There is this old house across the street from the bus stop. Every weekday morning the kids gather at the bus stop to wait for the school bus. I remember going to that bus stop when I was a kid, now I live down the street some distance from where I grew up.

Driving past I noticed all the kids were staring at this old house. I always thought it was empty, unsold. The yard is overgrown and the fence boards have fallen down. I looked at the place, wondering what they were staring at. I had slowed down so much, driving, that the school bus had come around the corner and put out its stop sign. I stopped, thinking 'I am supposed to stop now until the sign retracts, even on this side of the street'. I had to anyway, two girls were dashing with their backpacks loaded with stuff, across my path, to get to the bus.

I took another look at the house. It was kinda dark out, overcast and inside the place it was very dark. I still didn't notice anything. I looked back at the bus, waiting to go. The kids were chatting, pointing, staring. Many of them looked surprised or scared. I looked back at the house and then I saw it.

In the window was a figure, pale as white. The figure was human-shaped, but it wasn't human. It had no face, no hair, no features. I watched in mortified fascination as it lifted a three fingered hand and placed it against the glass of the window.

I was shocked and appalled at the dreadful thing in the window. Although it had no eyes, I knew it could see me. I stared at it, my skin felt cold and I realized I was holding my breath.

Suddenly the blare of an annoyed car horn behind me signaled. I blinked and breathed and looked again at the window of the old house. The thing in the window was gone. So was the bus; I had sat there with my eyes wide, unable to look away.

The horn of the car behind me honked again and I took my foot off the brake and on some absurd impulse I pulled into the driveway of the old house, instead of leaving. The cars behind me drove on and left me there on the quiet residential street, all alone.

Silence. I had turned off my engine. I wasn't sure what compelled me to investigate, normally I am scared of my own shadow. I fear the dark and sleep with a nightlight and a flashlight.

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I decided to leave, not knowing what else to do. I had rolled down my driver's side window and stared at the overgrown lawn, the fallen fence board. The ancient realtor's sign had replaced the one that replaced another. Nobody would buy the place. I leaned out my window a little bit and timorously looked at the window where this strange apparition had appeared. There was nothing there. I got out of my car at that point and started walking up the mossy steps. I stopped my own hand, about to knock on the front door.

I looked up and down the street and a chill breeze blew some leaves calmly. Every driveway was empty, people had gone to work. No cars were coming and I felt alone there, under gray clouds. A crow called to another of its kind in the backyard of the old house.

I went to look into one of the downstairs windows, wading through the tall grass and weeds. It was very dark inside and the skies were reflecting on the glass, gray and darkness. I cupped my hands over the glass to see inside. Nothing, no movement or anything. Relieved and proud of myself for having a little courage, I went back to my car.

I crossed the yard and went past the front door and then dropped my car keys, which I already had pulled from my pocket as I returned to my vehicle. My keys clattered onto the pavement between two patches of moss. I felt a scream of terror in my throat catch and choke me.

The front door of the old house had opened.

There in the doorway stood the stranger with the white-as-bone flesh. It was vaguely human shaped, but had no face. Yet even without eyes it was looking at me, angry at my trespassing. I could sense that I was in danger, that I had disturbed something cruel and evil. I reached down, fumbling for my keys, unable to look away from the horror in the darkened doorway.

When I had my prize I dashed for my car and lost my balance from the awkward start, hunched over and looking up and then trying to run. I fell and skinned the palm of my hand. Then I got to my car and collided with my driver's side door, flinging my keys inside to the floor through the open window. The door was locked, I'd locked it!

I reached in and found the lock and opened my door. I heard soft footsteps approaching me from behind. I got into my car without looking back and then retrieved my dropped key again. I ignited the engine and put my car into reverse. As I escaped the driveway I saw it there at the bottom of the steps.

From its blank face an opening had formed and a pink tongue slithered out to taste the bloody palm print I had left.

My hand was bleeding from the fall and I'd left some blood there on the pavement for it. It looked up at me as I drove away, the front door still open. I realized I was speeding and yelling inarticulately. My hand hurt.

I still don't know what that thing was and I haven't seen it since.