THE STRANGER

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥

You gasp, trying to swallow in as much oxygen as your lungs can contain. You can still hear the sinister cackle echoing through the trees. Your heart pounds ferociously till your ribs hurt alongside your kidney from all the running.

Lightning flashes, scarring the inky black sky. The sound of thunder rumbles from a distance. A storm is coming fast.

You wonder if Patrick will soon wake up and notice you are gone. You wonder if he will even care. Not after what you tried to do tonight.

Wispy hands of thorny bushes and low-hanging tree branches slap your face and arms as you plod forward. You know you have completely lost the trail now. Gooseflesh crawls up your arms at the realization that you are completely lost. Your knees buckle as you hit your leg on a rock and pain shoots up your leg.
A cuss word flies out of your mouth as you continue forward, limping.

You internally chide yourself. Why did the idea ever cross your mind to play a hero by trying to debunk an age-long legend of The Stranger who always visits this village every new moon, leaving a blood trail in his wake?

When the locals shared the tale of The Stranger, also known as the Soul Strangler, as a warning to you and Patrick the day you arrived, you scoffed.
You were bounty hunters. On the surface, you made documentaries of your crazy adventures to dangerous places all across the globe—the Amazon Jungle, the Kalahari Desert, the West Coast of India where some cannibals captured you both.
You’d both narrowly escaped unscathed each time—the universe was on your side, you surmised.

But things have gone mellow ever since your partner, Patrick, suddenly became a Christian fanatic. He opted out of the whole friends with benefits arrangement with you and annoyingly began to talk more and more about God and all that jazz. You suspect the reason he agreed to come along with you is because he’ll have a chance to proselytize the villagers here.

You also once believed in a God, when you were a child and your family was together. But after the divorce of your parents in your late teens, you became rebellious and discarded your single mom’s attempts to raise you right. You mingled with the wrong crowd and got involved in orgies, alcohol and drugs. Putting your life on the edge of the cliff was the only way you ever felt alive. But, they never satisfied you.

Tonight, after a meal by the camp fire, you tried to seduce him again. You missed old times when you both enjoyed each other to the fullest with no strings attached. When your fingers slid up his thigh, he jumped like he’d sat on embers and practically ran into his personal tent. After almost an hour of sitting in stunned silence, you heard his snores. You were appalled, angry and dejected. Were you that repulsive to him now?

You left the camp to find a place to mourn your bleak life. At the little creek you found, you suddenly had the prickly sensation that someone was watching you. And when you slowly turned to the trees, you were greeted with the sight of a ragged hooded figure. You knew immediately that this was The Stranger. And he wasn’t here for a friendly visit. He was here to strangle your soul and feast on it. Out of fear, you let out a shrill scream and ran blindly into the forest.

Now, as you finally stumble out to a clearing, you see a ramshackle building sitting like a sore thumb under the moonlight. Relieved that at least you have found a place for refuge, you stagger up the porch steps and knock hard on the wooden door. There is no response but you hastily try the knob and find that the door is open.

Everywhere inside is dark. You glance over your shoulders. Although The Stranger is nowhere in sight, you know it’s only a matter of time before he catches up. Quietly you slip into the dark house and cautiously grope your way till you find the nearest wall. You need light but you cannot feel any light switch nearby.

With shaking hands you fish out your phone from your pocket. Low battery. You switch on the dim flashlight.

The house bore telltale signs of desertion—creaking wooden floor boards, dusty worn-out sofas and peeling whitewash on the walls. You have no choice but to lay low here. Hopefully, The Stranger would have lost you and turned back from pursuit. Hopefully.

But you can’t take chances. You find the deepest closet in the largest room in this house. You squeeze yourself in, swatting away the blanket of cobwebs that cover you. All for survival.

You consider the irony of your situation. Hiding. You’ve always been hiding. Doing dangerous stuff was only a bluff to appear strong on the surface. You are broken and you know it—the perfect prey for this marauding Stranger.

Shivering, you whimper, your heart drumming, and squeeze your eyes shut. You’re done for. Perhaps this is the payback for how carelessly you’d lived your life. But you are so afraid, so scared of dying, because you now realise you’ve wasted your life chasing hollow and fleeting gratifications and you don’t know what awaits you on the other side of death.

You type out a message on your phone, knowing you might not survive this night, highlighting all your regrets, all the moments you wish you could reverse, all the warnings you discarded. You warn whoever reads the message that the legend of The Stranger is real and that he is the devil’s spawn.

Just as you consider sending it to Patrick, your phone battery dies.

In that moment, you hear the sound of the front door being flung open. Your entire body freezes and every drop of saliva in your mouth dries up. It can’t be the wind. It must be The Stranger.

The heavy sound of boots on the wooden floor and the rummaging sounds confirm your suspicion. Soon the sounds draw nearer. The door of the closet you’re cooped up in swings open.
You open your mouth to let out your final ear-splitting scream, but the alarmed voice of Patrick is what greets your ears.

“Mia? What are you doing here? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

You’ve never heard a sweeter sound all your life. Utterly relieved, you crumble forward into his arms, sobbing loudly.

Moments later, Patrick gently leads you out of the house back to the camp, despite your frantic protests that The Stranger might be lurking in wait outside.

As you walk, calm slowly seeps into your bones thanks to Patrick’s nearness. These days, he exudes an uncharacteristic aura of confidence and peace, something you crave but have never enjoyed.

At the camp, you explain all that happened. Patrick soaks in your account and, instead of incredulous dismissal, you can see understanding written on his expression. He reveals the actual reason he agreed to come on this final adventure with you — because God instructed him to.
As your eyes widen in shock, he pulls out his Bible and shows you a verse in Psalms: “The strangers shall fade away, and be afraid out of their close places.”

He explains that he’s been praying against the strongholds in this territory. He says you can have this same power over fear and dark forces if you surrender to Jesus. You soak in every syllable he utters with rapt attention.

Exhausted, you retire to your tent. To make you feel safe, Patrick offers to stay up and keep watch by the fire.

Under your tent, you weep silently and give your life to the One who gave you a second chance, delivering you from the claws of The Stranger.