A few days after dissecting the buzzard, you decided to venture out into the nearest town, which was only a ten minute walk down the road. You were—literally and idiomatically—a bag of nerves, praying that the streets weren't too busy.

Busy streets were your worst nightmare. After what happened when you were young, a busy street could lead to seeing more people then you needed.

As much as you tried to repress it (and believe me, you tried), the incident of your encounter with the dreaded No-Face left you on the verge of death. You awoke at the hospital, staring up into a face of nightmares.

The face was normal if you looked past the stitches that went across his face and neck, running down to under a striped scarf. There were scars, too, but you liked scars, so you made no comment on them. The head was covered by a mop of medium brown hair, and a pair of bright green eyes stared down at you.

You didn't do much in the way of reacting. You stared up at the face with a blank gaze, somewhat confused. The more you stared at the face the more 'normal' it became. The skin slowly lost the stitches and scars and smoothed out, becoming its natural colour. The hair tidied itself up, and the clothes cleaned themselves of dirt and grime.

He just looks like a normal guy. Did I hit my head or something?

'Who...are you?' you croaked out,

The man tutted, shaking his head. 'Great. You can see.'

'Of course I can see,' you said, frowning as the man's previous appearance began to clash with his current one. 'Why are you changing?'

'What do you—? Oh, I get it.' The man gingerly poked your forehead. 'Great,' he said again. 'Just fuckin' great.'

Your seven year old self had never heard someone swear before, so you were completely unfazed by the use of the vulgarity (much to the amusement of the man). You forced yourself to sit up, and he scurried away as though he didn't expect you to move.

'Wait,' you said, 'please don't leave.' I don't want that...thing to come back.

'Someone will come and see you to explain things,' was all the man said, leaving the room through the window.

From that day on, you could see...people. People no one else could see. After doing an extensive amount of research, you realised that the people you saw were 'Creepypastas'—the henchpeople of No-Face—both in their 'corrupt' form and their 'original' form. It could be quite startling to see a monochrome clown suddenly gain colours so bright it hurt. After a while, though, it became second nature to pass people in the streets and watch their eye turn into a pocket watch.

The people weren't the issue; it was the number. The more you saw in one day, the higher your chances of encountering No-Face again. You didn't want that happen.

But, since I don't live in town, maybe I'll be safer? you thought to yourself as you turned onto the high street. That's a possibility.

You shrugged to yourself, putting in your headphones. No point in worrying about the future just yet.

(Keyword: yet.)

There weren't many shops that piqued your interest, yet you made a mental note of what shops there were in case you ever needed them. Things like clothing, food, stationary, antiques—

You stopped walking and stared at the antique shop. It was small, but looked to be filled with old things no one wanted. It had a cozy vibe to it, so you pushed open the door and slipped inside.

An elderly woman was sat on a comfortable looking armchair, a book in hand. When she noticed you come in, she gave you a friendly wave.

'Hello, dear,' she said, 'are you the one you bought that old cottage?'

'Hello,' you replied, smiling, 'yes, that's me. How did you know?'

'My granddaughter showed you around the house. I used to live there, you know. Lovely place, isn't it?'

'It really is,' you said, feeling every so slightly awkward, 'I only came here to live temporarily for work, but the place is so nice I might end up staying.'

'Take your time with those decisions, dear. Never be hasty.' The old woman turned back to her book, deeming the conversation over. You understood the signal and began to browse through the shop.

It was mainly old jewellery and toys that were definitely bad news. You gave one particular teddy bear a wide berth, not liking the look in its eyes. Freaky little thing.

You went down in the back of the shop, where it was darker and more cramped. Trying not to break anything, you squeezed past a ceramic lamp and made your way to what looked like a pocket knife.

Yeah, that's a pocket knife.

It was a very, very pretty knife. The blade itself was plain and sharp looking, but that in itself was pretty to you. The handle was engraved with an ornate pattern that you ran your finger against, the cold metal giving your system a small shock.

You glanced at the price tag. £35.

Not too bad, you reasoned, I can just take it out of my bank and then limit what I buy until payday.

You picked up the knife and took it over to the old woman, showing it to her.

'Is it okay if I buy this?' you inquired, feeling like a child asking for a toy.

The old woman looked up at you in mild surprise. 'Of course, dear.' She took the knife in her bony hands, turning it around. 'Ah, I remember this one well. It was brought in about two years ago by a charming young man. Oh dear me, what was his name? Oh well, it doesn't matter. He claimed it belonged to his best friend who disappeared.'

'Did they ever find him?' I asked.

'That's the thing. No one remembers him ever existing—except the young man, of course.'

You frowned. Such a small thing had such a large story behind it. The way of life, I suppose.

The money was exchanged and the knife was wrapped in tissue paper and placed in a small bag. You thanked the old woman profusely, to which she replied, 'Do not thank me, dear. I am merely doing my job. Come back if you need anything, and I mean anything at all.'

You nodded, thanked her again and went out into the street. It was colder then you remembered. You pulled your coat closer to you, shivering slightly.

The street was empty. In the distance, you could hear the sound of people and cars, but you couldn't see them. You walked a bit faster, nerves biting at you with every step.

You suddenly stopped. There was a flash of black and blue to your left. You narrowed your eyes and kept walking.