Cause of Death

The room was almost entirely dark, apart from the glow of the laptop, which sat on the table. It was completely silent, except for the sound of the rhythmic clicking of the computer’s keyboard. It had been going like that for hours, non-stop. The man, who stared vacantly at the computer as he typed on, had been sitting there for a very long time, so immersed in the story that he was writing that he did not notice the time go by, just as he hadn’t noticed the sun go down and the light go out from the room.

To him, there was no more reality, and the only life he was living was that of his character. He was no longer an author, he was a completely different man, whose story he was creating. There was no more distinction between the two of them; they had merged into one.

He was striding through a dark alley, the fog around him making visibility difficult. A light rain was pattering against his face, and he walked with hurried footsteps, looking behind him as if making sure that he wasn’t being followed. There didn’t seem to be anyone behind him, but he continued nonetheless, turning into some twists and small alleys that not many people knew. And yet, he kept looking behind him, as if expecting to see something.

There was a rustle behind him, and he turned around, freezing momentarily. The noise continued. It was as if something were moving inside the public trash can. He braced himself, sensing trouble. Suddenly, a figure erupted from the bin, landing on the ground only a few feet in front of him and quickly moving to the side of the alley, disappearing into the shadows. It had been only a cat.

The man observed his surroundings once more, and kept going. He picked up the pace, knowing with his gut that he was being followed. He noticed something new, something that had been nudging the edge of his mind. The rain had stopped, and with it, a deep silence had come. No longer did he hear the distant wheels of cars passing over the wet concrete. No longer did he hear any sounds of movement from around him. The only noise was that of his rhythmic steps, echoing on the walls around him.

He started running, almost in a trance. He didn’t notice where he was going, he just let fate decide and kept moving forward, without looking back. It was as if he were in a tunnel, seeing only a little slice of the direction he was going, the rest of it being darkened by his senses.

Suddenly, something seemed to call him back to reality as he stopped. It was a wall. On three of his sides, tall brick walls surrounded him. It was a dead end. That’s when it hit him. He didn’t know how it had happened, but whatever was chasing him had gotten him trapped in a corner, making him think all along that he was just getting away from it, weaving into the network of alleys that he knew so well. And yet, there he was, stuck in a dead end.

Right before he could start running towards another intersecting street, a silhouette seemed to appear near the beginning of the alley where he had come from. It was blocking the way. He couldn’t make it out perfectly, but it looked like a hooded humanoid figure, larger than the average human, seeming to be enveloped in mist, its features barely visible.

The man turned around, looking for a way out of there that didn’t involve walking past the mist man. In the brick wall to his right, somewhere out of his reach, a ladder leading to the roof was extended. He couldn’t jump that high to take it, but he looked for solutions around him. A huge metal bin for the whole building’s garbage sat next to the opposite wall. He tried tugging it. Miraculously, the bin was empty, and he was able to move it. It moved slowly at first, but every new pull, powered by the figure getting closer every second, finally got the trash can to a convenient place. The mysterious stalker was only a few steps away, and the man stepped up onto the bin and jumped. He almost failed to catch the ladder, but when he did, he hung on to dear life. He pulled himself up, at first only being able to use his arms to pull himself with the rungs. When he got his legs to the first rung of the ladder, it went a lot more quickly.

The hooded follower was right at his heels, advancing slowly but surely, moving so swiftly that the man wondered if he used his legs or if he merely floated around. The man finally got to the top and hoisted himself up, falling on the roof, face first. He quickly got up and started running. He didn’t get very far. The building that he had decided to climb was an individual building, with the neighbouring constructions too far to jump to. He stood at the edge and stared as the silhouette climbed gracefully onto the roof and kept advancing towards him, without ever stopping.

Fear took hold of him once more, not letting him move, freezing his blood and making the hair in the back of his head stand up. His hands started shaking, and he felt a drop of cold sweat run down the side of his face. The figure was approaching, and he no longer knew what to do. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The misty silhouette raised one of its arms, getting to a distance where it would be able to hit the man. Time seemed to stretch on forever in that moment for the man, for he was certain that he was about to die. And yet, he knew he could do something, anything, that would buy him some more time. The arm came down to strike him and-

The clicking sound of the keyboard had gone silent in the dark room. The sentence displayed on the computer screen was unfinished halfway through for no apparent reason. The man still sat on his chair, but he was having some sort of spasms, thrashing in his chair, moving his head from one side to the other violently. His eyes were rolled back into his head, the whites showing. He continued moving for a few seconds, and then stopped all of a sudden. His body slumped heavily back into the chair and moved no more. His chest didn’t heave with breaths. His tongue stuck out of his mouth slightly, and it was bloody from an unintentional bite. The room lay in perfect peace.

On the table, next to the computer, there was a note, from the author’s doctor. It read: 

You have an unexpected cardiac problem that we have failed to identify. However, while we try to analyze your test results further, we’d suggest you to try to stay calm, to prevent your heart from beating too fast. I personally suggest to lay off the horror movies or stories for a while. We wouldn’t want the suspense to literally kill you, now, would we? We will call you when we have something, but until then, take care of yourself.

The dead man's telephone rang.