This isn't as creepy as the first one I showed, but it still has a weird factor. I got the idea from a song called Faust, Midas, and Myself by Switchfoot. Any of you who know the song, I hope you like this!
Peter was just walking down the sidewalk a few blocks from his house, casually, with a sort of ho-hum look on his face. Hands in his pockets, nothing was really going through his head. But then he heard soft footsteps behind him, and turning, he saw a man with bronze curly hair and a square jaw smiling at him. His eyes looked deep-set, and yet the pure, bright blue that the sun reflected made them almost pop out. He wore a dark blue business suit that even Jack would be jealous of, but he looked too friendly to have asked for it on his own. Still, the grandeur that emanated from him made Peter feel more nervous than he’d ever felt before. As the man approached, all the color around them drained away, and made Peter all the more spooked.
“Hi, Peter.” The man said. The grace and absoluteness in his voice had an eerie tone to it too, causing every molecule in Peter’s body to chill and attempt to crawl away. The perfection that surrounded this man just made him feel inferior, and meeting him must mean that he’d done something just as unsuitable. Through sheer amazement, Peter was unable to answer.
“Peter,” the man was looking at him.
“Yes?” Peter answered tentatively.
“How’ve you been lately?” The inquiry was nearly a psychiatrist type of question. Still, Peter shrugged as he thought of his answer.
“I guess I’ve been fine. I’m doing well in track and I’ve been getting better in school these past couple weeks. I made Jack happy for once, which would almost have never happened if he hadn’t finally gotten some common sense.” The last remark suddenly seemed to smack him on the mouth. The man didn’t seem to be disturbed by it. Peter found himself looking down at his feet in embarrassment at what he’d just said.
“I have something for you,” the man told him. He instantly turned around and began to walk away. Peter’s curiosity forced him to follow, his feet giving full trust to the other person. It occurred to him then that the man hadn’t introduced himself neither explained why he was there or how he knew Peter. But for the same reason, Peter no longer wished to learn his name or anything else about the man. They simply continued walking.
Coming to the end of a sidewalk some few blocks away before crossing the street to where the sidewalk resumed its path, the man stopped and turned back to Peter.
“You know,” he said as if he was saying a last statement. “It would be nice if you could simply take one step and be anywhere you wanted to be, wouldn’t it?” Peter nodded.
“Well, of course,” he answered. “It would be much faster and more efficient.” The man eyed him as if Peter had proven something. “Exactly,” he said, sounding like he knew he’d been disappointed.
“It would be nice,” he repeated. “But would it be better?” Peter was too distracted trying to decide what his answer would be to see the man turn and begin walking across the road. For a minute, he looked up to see the man was making his way off, and then he blinked. The man in the blue suit had vanished.
Standing dazed and caught off guard for the moment, Peter watched the color drift back into place, deprived of all wits. The man had simply disappeared like he hadn’t been there at all! And the conversation didn’t make sense, there didn’t seem to be a point in the walk at all, and now Peter was stuck alone in the middle of the neighborhood. He turned this way and that frantically, panic simply cracking like an egg and dropping onto him like it had been waiting above his head all along.
Which way had they gone from his apartment? How far? Peter didn’t remember. He hadn’t looked at the street signs. Surveying his surroundings, he found that there were no street signs. Wait a minute. How could there be no street signs? This was a neighborhood! Peter’s straw of fright came up short and he made no final attempt to calm himself but instead began to run back in the direction he had come.
He didn’t understand why he was so scared. Peter knew this road as well as seventeen years of experience could give. He was running right along the highway that surrounded the perimeter of the neighborhood, with the wall of hedges across the street following him. Looking back, Peter wondered if he had missed the turn onto his street. There was no one around to warn him to watch for the stop sign. The impact made everything go blank.
Peter stood up, still bewildered. There was no pain in his head or anywhere else. Looking around, he found that the street he was familiar with was no longer there. Everything was white—the ground, the sky, the air. And it was cold. Flurries of snow blew lightly around him, making it impossible to tell which direction was really up or down. A laughing sound came from somewhere, as if from a speaker hidden in the snow. Peter turned around, just to see if there was any landmark he could find. A hand grabbed his, and he started.
“It’s just me, Peter.” Lisa stood beside him, as if she belonged there. But something was wrong. She was made out of gold, solid gold. A yelp came from Peter’s throat. Her eyebrows furrowed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Peter stared.
“You—you—you’re—” He only managed that.
“What?” she said casually. “Made of gold? Why does that matter? I think I’m made of gold. I’m priceless. And look at your self, Peter.” She held up a mirror to his face and Peter saw something just as crazy. He not only was made of gold, but diamond. He had diamond blue eyes, pink diamond lips, yellow diamond hair, and everything else was encrusted in gold. “You’re worth all the world. And you’re mine.” Lisa said it as if she were simply claiming him just so no one else could touch him first. It didn’t sound happy or sweet. There was no heart in it at all. Peter pushed her away from him when she tried to embrace him.
“I’m not yours.” He said. The words sounded dead and defenseless, with no more life than Lisa’s voice. She simply stood and stared at him angrily. Strangely, Peter could see that she was angry, but he didn’t feel her anger. There was something else he didn’t feel. Putting a hand to his chest, he waited for something—a beat, a rhythm.
It didn’t come.
Peter then understood. Even though he and Lisa appeared to be made of riches, they were both heartless beings. Heartless. The word repeated in his ears over and over again. Heartless, heartless, heartless.
Looking in the mirror again, Peter scowled at his face. Then, before Lisa could say anything or try to stop him he threw the mirror as hard as he could away from him. The crashing sound came from somewhere in the distance, and then Peter finally woke up.
