It was four o’clock at Fostering High School, the school grounds were vacant except for the students who decided to stay after school for their multiple extracurricular activities. Of these students there was Evan Smith, a tall lean young man, who decided to stay and try out for the chess team, but soon realized he knew nothing about chess. After losing multiple competitions, he decided to leave. He hurried out of the hallowing school grounds, a maze of separate buildings. It was easy to get lost at this huge school, but Evan, having been going here for three years, knew his way around. He walked at a quick pace noting how there was no sound except for his footsteps. Stomp, stomp, stomp. The sound echoed off the buildings and ran throughout the hallways dissipating at the farthest reaches of the school. Evan kept his head down, it was such an unnerving situation. He knew there were other students and teachers in the classrooms, but that made it even more eery.
He had finally reached the school gate and decided to pull out his phone and call for his mother to pick him up. Beep, beep, beep, he dialed in her number. After two seconds of ringing his mother finally answered.
“Mom,” he whispered.
“Yea Evan,” she quickly asked, “what is it?”
“Can you come and pick me up from school?”
“Oh Evan, I’m still working I can’t leave. I thought you’d be out later. I don’t know what to do!”she nagged.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he disappointingly assured her, “I’ll just walk.”
“Are you sure, Evan? It’s dangerous.” .
“It’s okay, mom, I’m old, I’ve got this.”
“Well, okay Evan. Remember, I love you.”
“I love you too, mom. Goodbye.”
He hung up the phone and nervously slid it back into his side pocket, missing a few attempts. Despite how confident Evan sounded on the phone, he was terrified; but, he didn’t want to worry his mother who was already working three jobs just to support them.  Evan looked around, there were no people except for the quick cars driving by the school. He began walking home, it was about a thirty minute walk from school to his house.
Now the city he lived in, South Foster, was a torn down poverty stricken city. It’s sidewalks were littered in trash and it’s poorest residents lived in torn down apartment complexes. The wealthiest residents barely lived in their own houses, and their houses were usually old rustic shacks with broken fences and brown dead lawns. In between Evan’s house and his school, was a huge field along the road that had a wild amount of grass due to the heavy rain that had been in the city the previous days. He walked along it, avoiding puddles and shivering in his T-shirt. He looked out, seeing the ripped up couches,holey mattresses, and the piles of garbage. The field was also covered with concrete ruins and halves of fences buried in the tall flowing grass. It looked like the remnants of a city destroyed centuries ago, like some fantasy city and some fantasy war that left ruins that are now left in this beautiful green wild field; a field that is now left in this pale ugly shattered city.
He quickly darted his head over his shoulder. He heard something, a faint crumple like someone was walking over the piles of trash. He stopped walking and stared into the field, like he was a soldier scouting for the hidden enemy. He squinted at the nothing, there was nothing. 
His mind started to flood with questions and his heart began pacing. Images started popping up in his head, a huge beastly menacing eye surrounded by mangled fur. He tried to shake it out, but it stayed over his eyes like a stain. The disgusting sharp emerald scowl. The South Foster Monster they called it. Everyone knew it, but no one spoke of it. It was such a banal evil, that you knew happened, but let happen, like corruption in politics.
He started to remember stories he heard of, one of an eight year old boy who was playing in his front yard. The boy was jumping around and slipped on the driveway concrete. He scraped his knee, and before he could cry or shout, he was gone. Taken by the beast. There was also a five year old girl and her two year old brother who stayed at home while their mom went across the street to the market. When she arrived they were both gone, no signs of a break in, nothing. That’s how the monster gets them, young and vulnerable. If your kid so happened to get a cut or be alone, you were likely to never see them again.
Evan shook his head trying to shake these pictures out of his skull. They stayed in his head. A dead little boy, bloody and mutilated, chewed up, laying in some cave next to a little girl’s severed head and a blood stained torn baby’s blanket. Such gruesome disgusting ideas. Evan wasn’t as afraid as he used to be as he was almost seventeen, he would soon not be prey to the monster. He started walking again, relieved that no monster bit at his legs and pulled him off into some unseen ditch to be mauled. He took a look at the sky, it was beautiful, the sun was fighting the clouds and the gray sky was nearly blue again. Swoosh! He jumped, startled by a car that zoomed past him. He stood in place, breathing heavy and holding his chest. He started chuckling and his breathing died out.
“That was stupid,” he awkwardly told himself, looking around to make sure no one saw him.
He finally made it to his front porch. The cement porch was covered in dirt and a welcome mat that was so mud stained it was impossible to tell if it said ‘Welcome Home’ or just ‘Welcome.’ He went on and pushed the door open(it was never locked), he stepped inside. The house smelt of old wood, syrup, and mildew; it was a familiar smell. He flicked the light switch next to the door, and three of the lamp’s five bulbs flickered on to where the whole room was barely lit, the golden wood darkening at the end of the room. The house was empty and void of any life, except for the thousands of roaches crawling in the walls. He swung his backpack over his shoulder, tossing it onto the stained brown couch, and made his way to the kitchen. He opened the freezer and pulled out a microwavable dinner. Knock, knock. Evan jumped.
“Jesus!” He complained.
He placed the dinner on the counter and walked to the door. Knock, knock.
“Yes?” He asked, annoyed, while he opened the door, “What the heck, dude? Come on!”
The porch was empty. It was obviously a prank, but he started to get scared; the monster appeared over his eyes again. He could imagine it perched behind him, waiting for him to turn around so it can pounce at him and tear his neck open. He didn’t want to turn around. He took a deep breath and quickly turned his body revealing the empty living room. He sighed, relieved. He returned to the kitchen and put his dinner in the microwave. He was used to eating alone, his mother got off of work late night. He slouched into the living room and threw his body onto the couch using his backpack as a makeshift pillow. He lazily reached down to grab the remote off the floor and turned the T.V. on. Knock, knock. He jumped again. He lifted the curtain above him and sneakily peered out onto the porch. There was nothing. Knock, knock. He jumped again.
“Oh my God!” He exclaimed under his breath.
His face started to get red. This knocking was coming from the back door. Knock, knock, knock! The knocks rapidly changed into pounding and Evan’s heart started racing. He ran to the back door, grabbing a knife as he made his way through the kitchen. He lunged the door open. Beep, beep, beep, the microwave squealed. He nearly had a heart attack. The backyard was empty. He was getting too scared now; he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed in his mother’s number. He held the phone to his ear and waited for the answer, ring-ring, ring-ring.
“Hey! You’ve reached Jenny Smith,” her voicemail greeted him, “Sorry I can’t answer right now. Leave a message after the beep!”
      BEEP!
“Mom, there’s something going on,” Evan shrieked, “Come home, please!”
He put the phone down. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! The front door shook. Then the back door, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! Evan ran to his room and slammed the door behind him. He jumped on his bed and held is hands up to his ears to drain out the horrid pounding. He could imagine the beast, the monster creeping through his house, slowly making it’s way to Evan’s door. His bedroom door started shaking, and Evan’s heart was almost bursting out his chest, he could hear the muffled sound of claws scraping the wooden door. He ran to the door and pushed against it with his shoulder. The door shook and rattled against him, getting more violent with every long lasting second. He continued to push against it until he slid down to the floor. Evan shook his head and cried as the door violently swayed.
“No, no, no,” he whimpered, “stop!”
He wailed against the rattling of the door. He began sobbing, his face down between his arms. The crying and the shaking went on for around three minutes and then gradually stopped. There was no more sound, the entire area was dead. Evan, taking advantage of the silence, quickly sprinted through his house, bursting through his front door.
The outside was pitch dark, not even the moon seemed to be shining. The cold pierced his skin as he ran down the sidewalk, his breath forming a cloud in front of his face. He ran to his neighbor’s front door and started banging on it with his fist. There was no answer, but Evan could see the flickering light of a television through the window. He ran to the next house and started pounding on the front door, but still no one answered. He ran across the street, but,still, no one answered. The entire neighborhood was ignoring him. He pulled out his phone and dialed 9-1-1, but it rang on. He dialed in his mother’s number, and it rang on back to the voicemail. He dialed it again, then voicemail; again, voicemail; again. There was no one. Evan was alone, and he could hear knocking. Every house on the street rattled. Evan started to cry again.