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The Place Where Skeletons Dance
Chapter 1: Disappearance #5, Henry Becker, August 19, 2007

Chapter 1: Disappearance #5, Henry Becker, August 19, 2007

Henry Becker was lonely on the day he would die. In truth, it would be fairer to say he was lonely every day. Even still, something about the gray clouds and dark skies that circled above him today made him feel especially dreary. He sat alone in his small glass booth, watching over an empty parking lot outside a mall in Kinsville, Texas. It was about as dull a task as could be given. He longed for something better.

As a boy, he had dreamed of being a scientist or a doctor and attending school as far away from Kinsville as he could get. The problem was that Henry was remarkably ordinary in every way. He had done well enough in high school to graduate with an incredibly average 2.6 GPA. He had played on his school's football team, but never started. He had even tried acting in a school play once. Admittedly, he only had two lines. The real nail in the coffin of his hopes and dreams was that Henry's family had no money.

His older brothers had not gone to college, and neither had his parents. So he gave up on his dream; what else could he do? Life, as it often does, had dealt him a bad hand. Now, Henry had to play it. He had worked for some time as a cashier in a gas station but had wound up as a low-rent security guard for a mall. He had no girlfriend or really any friends at all. All this to say, Henry Becker was not what you would call happy. In fact, he was about as far from it as a man could be.

His work day had been slow. He did his rounds as he always did, checking for any would-be trespassers. As always, there were none. So he spent most of his time inside the small glass booth he called his office. The only thing that kept him going was knowing he had the weekend off.

***

When Henry's shift was up, his replacement met him at the booth. Today, it was Jerry who relieved him. Henry actually liked Jerry, which was a rare thing for him. Jerry was basically the opposite of Henry in every way. He was friendly, outgoing and seemed to genuinely enjoy the job. That was something Henry would never understand.

"Hey, Henry, how are you?" Jerry asked with a jovial smile as he approached.

"Can't complain," Henry lied.

In truth, he had a great deal he could complain about.

"Good to hear."

Jerry ran a hand through his blonde hair. His eyes shifted over the darkness beyond the booth. He seemed to be looking for something.

"Hey… Have you seen anything off tonight?" He asked.

That was an odd question. There was never anything "off" in the mall outside of teens trying to sneak in after closing.

"No, quiet night so far... Why?"

"Oh, no reason; I just thought I saw something, is all. I guess it was nothing, just my eyes playing tricks on me."

"They do that in the dark sometimes," Henry said with a forced smile.

"Ya, I guess they do. It's just a strange night, I think. Something in the air, I guess."

"Well, I'm gonna head out. Good luck on the shift, Jerry," Henry said as he vacated the small glass booth.

"Alright, have a good night," Jerry said as he traded places.

Henry left the mall on foot. Last month, the transmission in his car had gone out, and he didn't have the money to fix it. So, he walked. It was actually one of the few things he enjoyed about his job. At the late hour, he often left work; the walk was time entirely to himself. Only tonight was different. Tonight, instead of feeling comfortable, he felt uneasy. It was almost like he was being watched.

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The streets of Kinsville were always eerily empty in the late hours. Shadows fought the sparse streetlights for control of the alleys and roads that Henry passed. A few lights even flickered, adding to the unsettling aura of the evening. Kinsville was not a very wealthy town and did not have the resources to fix broken lights. So much of his walk home was spent in darkness.

That feeling of being watched still followed him. He couldn't shake it. Henry peered over his shoulder frequently, hoping to spot whatever was following. Only the dark, empty streets were behind him.

"I'm letting the dark get to me," he mumbled to himself.

He was acting like a boy scared of the dark. He knew there was nothing out there. That was one of the few nice things about Kinsville; there was almost no crime here. Most of the people who lived in the town were old. Henry was never one for jumping at shadows, so he kept telling himself that it was just his imagination. Right up until he saw it.

It stood beneath a flickering street lamp across the road from him. At first glance, Henry thought it was just a man. In a way, it was. What hair peeked out from beneath a wide-brimmed hat was coal black. The man's skin was unnaturally pale. It wore a nice black suit with a blood-red tie that matched its eyes. They glowed an almost neon red. In the flickering light, Henry could see its shadow, or, as he supposed, shadows. Three dark reflections of the man split off under a single light. They each undulated and shifted, even though the man stood still.

Henry felt his breath catch as the man met his gaze. The red color in its eyes almost seemed to swirl like a vast, unknowable sea. In them, Henry could see something dark. What you might call madness Even looking into them for a second made Henry feel sick. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. He was drawn to those eyes.

The man smiled. There was something so sinister about that smile. A threatening look to the way it pulled back its lips. It raised a hand and pointed a finger towards Henry. All three of its shadows shifted, moving to follow the pointing finger. The street lights flickered off one by one until they plunged the man into darkness. When the lights returned only moments later, the man with red eyes was gone.

That man had not been right. He had set off some primal fear in the back of Henry's mind. What you might call the uncanny valley; Looking at something that seems human but isn't. As odd as it sounded, Henry thought that the man was evil to it's core. It was a hard thing to justify to himself, but he felt it deep in his guts.

Henry began to run. He was only a block away from his apartment. He could make it. As he sprinted down the dark sidewalk, he peered over his shoulder. Each time, he expected to see that thing that looked like a man chasing behind him. He didn't see it again, but that sense of being watched never left him.

When he reached his apartment building, Henry sped up the concrete side stairs that led to the second story. By the time he reached his door, dread had built up inside him to a boiling point. His heart hammered in his chest. He fished his keyring from his pocket and pulled out the silver key that unlocked the door. He struggled to get the key into the lock in his panic. He took a deep breath and, at last, managed to unlock the door.

As he shut the door behind him, Henry felt a relief wash over him. He was exhausted. He moved into his bedroom as his eyes drooped. Henry slid into his warm bed and let that sense of wrongness slip from his mind. A good night's sleep—that's what he needed. He pulled the covers tight and shut his eyes. Even as he drifted away to sleep, he couldn't get the image of the man with red eyes out of his mind. What had it been? Had it really just been a trick of the light or mind fooling him? It didn't matter now; he was safe in his apartment. He felt the warm embrace of sleep take him.

As he slept, Henry didn't hear his closet door squeak open. Neither did he hear what left it as it crept towards his bed.

***

The next evening he was scheduled, Henry Becker didn't come to work. Nor did he the next night. Eventually, his brothers went to check on him. When they couldn't find him, they reported him missing. The police never found Henry. His name went on a long list of missing people who would also never be found. Most assumed he'd just run off to try and make a better life for himself somewhere else. Henry had talked a lot about his lofty ambitions. The people who knew him were content with that answer. All except for his mother, who never accepted that explanation. She knew the truth; her son wasn't the type. He wouldn't just run off without telling her.

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