Gray

I've tried everything I can think of. Enough is enough. I first noticed the thing when I looked up at my window after taking a short nighttime walk. At first, I reasoned that it was just my mom, putting something in my room. But as I came closer and looked harder, I saw its shape was hardly feminine. Hardly even human. What stood in my window was a tall, skinny figure, completely nude and lanky like a teenager, its skin the color gray. It stood taller than I did, and it looked down from my window at me whenever I was outside of my house. Its face was more humanoid than the rest of it, as it had a mouth, a nose, and two eyes, the whites of which shone like dimmed car headlights. It had an expression that was hard to read; fear mixed with exuberation, and entirely psychotic. The first night I saw it, it just stared down at me. It didn't move at all. I didn't move at all. I couldn't. I was dumbfounded by its presence. I felt a sneaking dread climb up my spine, and it settled on my neck. My mother and sister were in the house with that monster. I ran for the door. When I burst through, nothing was amiss. My family members sat downstairs, watching television as they always did. Panting, I stood before the screen and looked at them, wondering how they couldn't have noticed someone breaking into our home. Looks of concern showed on both their faces. 'What's the matter?' my mom asked, frowning. 'There's someone upstairs!' I exclaimed. 'What?' she cried, her voice raised. 'How can that be?' 'I saw him in my window!' Without waiting for them to follow, I stormed up the stairs, determined to catch the criminal. I took a baseball bat from the closet on the way and, with a moment's hesitation, I exploded into my bedroom. The gray being had inexplicably vanished. Gone, without any trace. I checked my sister's room, my mother's room, every bathroom and closet and pantry I could. The thing had disappeared. Somehow, its vanishing disturbed me more than its being here. That night I barely slept, waiting for it to emerge from some excellent hiding spot. It never did. After then, I've looked up to my window when I was outside, and every time I saw the thing glaring down at me like I was the freak. Sometimes I locked eyes with it, making threatening gestures to try to stare it down and scare it off, but it never affects it. It just stood there, watching. Waiting. After a week of seeing it whenever I walked my dog late at night, and even during the day when I looked up from car as I parked it in the driveway, I resolved to do something. What a mistake. First, I tried shutting the blinds and turning off the light before I went out with my dog. Sure enough, when I glanced up at my window the thing stood as it had before, with the blinds completely up and the light juxtaposing its gray mass against the yellow-colored room. When I climbed back up to my bedroom, the shades were as I had put them. I started to feel crazy, and unsafe. I started sleeping downstairs. The second thing I tried worked as well as the first. I stacked chairs and heavy boxes full of reams of paper before the window to see how determined this spirit was. As I should have guessed, all of the things had been removed from sight when I peered up to the gleaming portal. It just stood alone, its expression constant, its body not feeling my desperate eyes upon the gray of its form. As a final attempt before resulting to setting actual traps to catch the beast, I told my sister to check my room after I'd gone. She was still sitting on the couch when I walked through the front door, loath to postpone her sedentary life for even a few minutes. When I returned, she reported that my room was empty, and asked if I felt okay. Feeling the concerned and fearful eyes of my family members made me fearful for myself. For some weeks, I managed to come to terms with the gray being's existence. I looked at it less and less, found its presence to be of decreasing importance to me. It seemed as if we could occupy the same space in comfort, staying out of each other's way. I had almost completely fo