Jesse

Beyond the light, the tree line was a wall of black.

Something was standing in the yard.

It was at the edge of the security light's reach, where the yellow faded into dark.

It was facing the house.

Facing the door.

Facing me.

I could see it clearly enough to know it wasn't a person, and I could see it poorly enough that my brain kept trying to make it into one.

It was tall.

The height was the first wrong thing.

It was well over six feet, probably closer to seven, and the proportions confirm that this wasn't a matter of a tall person standing in my grandmother's yard.

The torso was too long.

The arms hung to mid thigh.

The legs were oddly angled at the knee, bent slightly forward in a way that made the whole body look like it was about to pitch onto its face.

The second wrong thing was the stillness.

It stood the way a fence post stands, fixed.

The third wrong thing was that it was wearing something.

I couldn't tell what.

The shape of the body was obscured from the shoulders down by something draped over it, something dark and irregular in outline.

It could have been clothing.

It could have been a hide.