Mars
We found a human footprint in Martian dust three kilometers from the lander.
It was fresh and pointed toward us.
Fear of being followed, hunted or approached.
We found a human footprint in Martian dust three kilometers from the lander.
It was fresh and pointed toward us.
I scattered my wife’s ashes in the garden exactly as she requested.
Every morning since, there have been gray footprints leading back into the house.
My GPS kept rerouting me onto a road that did not exist on the map.
When I ignored it, the voice stopped giving directions and said, “He can see you now.”
My grandfather taught me never to whistle in the woods after dark because something might answer.
Tonight I heard my own whistle coming closer through the trees.
At low tide I found a line of barefoot tracks leading from the ocean to my beach house.
The tracks stopped beside my bed.
Every trail marker in the forest suddenly pointed back the way I had come.
The footprints behind me were not mine.
I carved my initials into a tree so I could find the trail back before dark.
An hour later every tree in the forest had the same initials.
From the fire tower I saw someone moving through the trees below with my flashlight.
Mine was still in my hand.
The detective showed me a security still of the person who had been following me.
The timestamp was tonight, and the picture was taken from my bedroom.
A car followed me home with a red clown nose hanging from the rearview mirror.
When I parked in my locked garage, the same nose was hanging from mine.
A red balloon appeared tied to my mailbox every morning for a week.
On the eighth day it was tied to my bedroom doorknob.