It was almost eleven thirty at night when Aron finished cleaning up at the diner and was able to start heading home; everyone else had already left. He grabbed his backpack, put on his coat, and briefly checked his reflection in the mirror. He was so tired, his shoulders sagged and his brown eyes seemed to be sunken. This was the last time that he would ever agree to both opening and closing the diner on the same day.

   He rolled his shoulders back and then called out, “Lights, off!” in a commanding voice.

   The air around him shuddered and the lights shut off. Aron left the building and turned back to face the front doors.

   “Admit no one except for the opener!” Again he used his commanding voice and again there was the shuddering in the surrounding air.

   Though he was still very commanding, the waver in his voice betrayed the fatigue he felt. Aron checked the doors briefly and then set off at a quick pace.

   A block down from the diner the hairs on the back of his head stood on end and an odd pressure weighed suddenly against his back.

   He was being watched.

   All he needed to do was to call out and he could make the person show him or her self to him, but it was probably nothing to worry about. It wasn’t such an unusual thing, even at this time of night and he continued walking. The watcher, though, did not lose sight of him and half way down the second block he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

   “Show yourself!” Aron commanded.

   “no” a voice whispered back from just behind him.

   Aron stopped dead in his tracks, turning on the spot, but there was nothing but a dark street behind him. If the speaker had used magic to keep themselves hidden, they would have at least needed to raise their voice. No one was powerful enough to simply whisper a command.

   “What do you want?” Aron asked as he tried to keep his fear under control.

   “a scream” the voice whispered back, their hot breath tickling his cheek.

   Aron gave a short cry, not intentionally, but because something had forced him to, as if the whisperer did indeed have the power to command without raising their voice.

   “Who are you?” he asked, turning around to face his assailant, though again all he saw was empty darkness.

   Aron steadied his breathing, waiting for a response. None came.

   “Show yourself!” He ordered the faceless voice again.

   Laughter.

   Then, from a darkened alleyway on his right, the shadows began to pull away. Just as smoothly as they had blended into the wall, they blended back into the form of a tall figure shrouded in a long cloak. Their head was bowed and long, scraggly hair hid their face from Aron’s view. They drew closer, and as they stepped, the black material of their cloak flowed back as though it wanted to melt back into the shadows and only the whisperer’s will was strong enough to draw them onward. With every step of their heavy boots on the pavement, Aron’s fear rose higher and higher.

   They spread their arms out wide in a mock greeting; only now raising their head. It was too dark to see any detail, and yet his assailant’s eyes stood out quite clearly. Their eyes were made of a blackness so deep that they stood out plainly against the dark night, as obvious as .

   Aron turned to run, but a whispered command made him stay, rooted to the ground. The figure walked right up to Aron’s face until there was barely half an inch between them. A demoniacal smile widened as they circled around Aron like a stalking beast. A hand shot out and grasped the back of Aron’s neck and pulled him in close.

   “scream for the whisperer,” was the only response to Aron’s struggling, hot breath playing on his ears.

   There was a shuddering in the air surrounding them and Aron lost all control as he let out a blood curdling scream.

   There came a sigh after a moment. “thank you,” the whisperer said with contentment and pushed Aron away from them.

   For a brief moment Aron thought that he would somehow survive after all but then he heard one last whisper.

   “now die”