Park Bench

You are sitting on a park bench, when someone shouts your name. You look up, startled, but you're alone just as you are every night you come to the park. Dismissing the sound, you go back to looking up at the stars, letting your mind and imagination churn freely as a slight breeze whisks through the trees and cools the air.  A sudden snap of a twig and an intake of breath from behind you wrenches you from your deep thought and isolation. You are not alone.

Turning around, you try to peer into the trees behind you, but the blackness of night consumes your vision. A pinnacle of yellow light appears, small at first but extending vertically until it forms a complete circle. Another circle of light forms mere inches from the other. They blink.

Realization hits you; the lights must be the eyes of some mysterious creature, and they’re looking right at you. You hear your name again, and this time its source is obvious. You sit aghast, unable to move or say anything. Meanwhile your eyes begin to adjust to the sudden light, and you can just make out the head of the being, but it is unlike any you have seen before.

A gray, skeleton-like hand reaches out and beckons towards you. “Come,” the voice says.

You find yourself on your feet, inching around your favorite bench, and walking into the darkness.