Ten Steps Closer

By PK

Some nights in Surrey are so still, they feel unnatural — like the city has been drained of life, leaving only shadows to wander the streets.

It was one of those nights.

I had just finished a late shift, the kind that leaves you too tired to think straight. The buses were running less frequently, and instead of waiting in the cold, I decided to walk home. It wasn’t far. Normally, the walk felt safe enough, but that night… the silence had weight.

The road was long and empty, the shops closed with their blinds pulled down tight. Porch lights flickered in the distance, but most houses were swallowed by darkness. The only sound was the faint, uneven hum of a streetlight struggling to stay alive.

That’s when I first saw him.

He sat on the curb, back hunched, his arms resting on his knees. His head hung forward so low that his face was lost in shadow. His clothes were filthy — the kind of grime that looked baked in over weeks, maybe months. His hair was long, stringy, and matted to his skin.

I didn’t slow down. I didn’t even look twice. People like him weren’t uncommon in the area, especially this late. My brain filed him away instantly — probably drunk, high, or asleep. Nothing to worry about.

I kept walking.

Ten steps later, I glanced ahead.

He was there again.

Same slouched posture. Same shadowed face.
Only closer.

I froze. The stretch of road I had just walked was empty — no one had passed me, and I hadn’t heard a single footstep behind me.

My heart rate picked up. I turned my eyes forward and forced myself to keep moving.

One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight… nine… ten.

He was closer again.

This time, the dim light caught part of his face. Pale skin stretched far too tightly over sharp cheekbones, as if it was holding something inside that didn’t quite belong. His lips were cracked and dry, with what looked like a smear of tar dripping from the corner of his mouth. His head twitched ever so slightly.

I looked away, crossing to the other side of the road.

But it didn’t matter.

Every ten steps, no matter how fast I walked, he appeared again. Always closer. Always silent.

By the fifth time, he was no longer sitting. He was standing, body rigid, head tilted toward me. His mouth was open slightly, but inside there were no teeth. No tongue. Just a perfect, consuming blackness.

Panic took over. I started running, my sneakers pounding against the wet pavement. The slap of my shoes echoed in the air, but beneath it, I heard something else.

Footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate.
Exactly ten of them… every time I tried to pull away.

Up ahead, the glow of a bus stop bled through the darkness like a lifeline. A man in a hoodie was standing there, looking down at his phone. Relief washed over me, and I practically collapsed next to him.

“Hey—” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “Did you… see that guy following me?”

The man looked up from his phone, brows knitted together.
“What guy?”

I turned to point back down the road, but the street was completely empty.

A shaky laugh slipped out of me. Maybe I was losing my mind. Maybe it was exhaustion playing tricks.

Then I saw his expression change.

His eyes widened, and the color drained from his face. His lips parted slightly as his gaze moved from me… to just above my shoulder.

I didn’t want to turn. I didn’t want to know.

Cold, damp breath touched my ear.
“Ten more steps.”

The bus pulled up just then, brakes squealing and doors hissing open. I darted inside without a word, heading for the middle row of seats. My hands trembled as I tried to steady my breathing.

And then… I made the mistake of looking to my right.

He was sitting there.
Closer than ever.

I screamed.

The bus lurched to an immediate stop. The driver jumped from his seat and rushed over, the man from the bus stop following behind him.

“Hey! Are you okay?” the driver asked, eyes darting around as if looking for someone else.

I was shaking too hard to answer. My chest was tight, and my breaths came in sharp bursts. The seat next to me was empty.

They helped me calm down, waited until my breathing steadied, then the driver started the bus again.

At the very next stop, I got off — and I ran the rest of the way home without stopping, without looking back.

Because I was terrified I’d hear it again.
Those same ten footsteps.