Jake was a bright, imaginative nine-year-old kid. On the outside he was just as mysterious as he was on the inside. He didn’t even understand a lot of things about himself. One thing no one ever suspected was that he was a killer.

A long time ago it seemed to Jake, he had been playing at his friend Zach’s house. Zach’s dad was reading a lot of psychology books, and Jake really came over to listen to him discuss them, not to play with Zach.

“Hey, my dad’s home,” Zach said.

“Then let’s go see him!” Jake said, getting up.

“I kinda wanted to play…”

“Come on!” Jake pulled Zach’s hand and dragged him out to where his dad was. “Hello!” Jake said. “Read anything good today?” He looked at Zach’s dad with eager, hungry eyes.

“Why, yes, I did,” he said, completely ignoring his own son’s greetings. “I read about the self-fulfilling prophecy today.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, supposedly, if you believe something enough, it will come true. Like, if you’re positive without a doubt that you’ll get fired, you will. Everybody has it. There’s no avoiding it.”

“What about dying?” Jake asked.

“Goodness, son, don’t think about such things!”

“Hey, Zach,” Jake said, “I gotta go home. I think I’m going to be late.”

“Bye, Jake,” Zach and his dad said together.

Jake’s mind began to race wildly as he walked home. This self-fulfilling prophecy sounded interesting. And it could even cause people to die. Kind of like murder except there were no signs of evidence. If he could only make people believe…

“A number of unexplained deaths and suicides have occurred in Mayton today, only adding to the number that’s been adding up for the past week. The police aren’t saying anything, but it doesn’t look like there’s anything we can do…”

Steven Williams turned off the television. The news was so depressing. Besides, he had heard every theory about what was going on, and he didn’t believe any of them. Some thought it was the end of the world, some thought it was a virus, and some thought it was aliens trying to take control. The only one plausible enough to Steven was the virus, but he was a skeptic and didn’t even believe that. He needed some fresh air.

Outside, the streets of Mayton were not the normal image of bustling activity, but instead cast an image of a ghost town. People were scared to come out, but not Steven. Nothing was going to keep him cooped up inside.

As he walked down the street, he saw a kid with blonde hair and sunglasses sitting in a chair. Probably some blind kid begging for money. He was just going to walk by.

When he tried to, though, the kid pulled up his sunglasses and smiled hugely, holding out his hand. “Hello, mister. Just want to wish you a fine day!”

Steven shook the kid’s hand and smiled politely. “Thanks.”

“My name’s Jake. Don’t forget it okay?” In this last note, the kid’s voice seemed to take on a sinister tone, causing Steven to look at him. “Don’t forget.”

“Sure thing, kid…uh, Jake.” With that, Jake let go of his hand, but Steven was suddenly sure he was going to die and that all the rumors were true. Then the feeling passed as he went on walking, but he didn’t forget it. Once he got home, he started denying it, out loud.

“No, no, it didn’t happen, I didn’t shake that kid’s…” Jake, his name was Jake. “No, it wasn’t Jake. He didn’t have a name. He didn’t exist!” But he did, and he couldn’t forget the look of the kid’s eyes. They had been completely black. No color whatsoever. That wasn’t possible though. He couldn’t believe, wouldn’t believe it. It was time to go to bed.

Jake remembered the man very well. He was a skeptic, but Jake wanted to change all that. He had killed all of these people, or more like made them kill themselves using the knowledge of human psychology. Humans were so weak. He decided he wanted to play around with this one. Jake wasn’t going to make him jump in front of a train or “accidentally” stab himself…no, he was going to mess with his mind, and this was going to be fun.

Steven dressed in his pajamas and reluctantly walked into his room. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that he was being silly, the more the feeling persisted. He stood in the doorway and looked around his room.

There was his bed, up against the far wall, and his big stereo system was on the wall to his right. On his bed was a quilt his grandmother had made him, and the poster right above it was of a skull and crossbones. Otherwise the room was bare, but he thought he saw things moving in the shadows. He stepped inside.

The very moment his body was completely in the room, the door slammed shut behind him. His speakers started blasting Marilyn Manson and NIN at the same time, the kind of music that gave him nightmares.

He tried the door, but it was locked. He stood with his back to the door and his hands over his ears, staring in wide eyes terror. This kind of thing wasn’t possible, yet it was happening.

The skull and crossbones of the poster above his bed seemed to come off and float in the air. The quilt spread out on the bed and the wavering image of the skull embedded itself upon it. The quilt wrapped itself around Steven, and he looked at the blank poster on the wall. A face was beginning to form in it. A kid’s face, with blond hair, but it looked like it had no eyes, almost like empty sockets but not quite. He began to speak.

“What is my name, Steven?”

Steven was paralyzed with fear, and he couldn’t have said the name even if he did remember it.

The blanket squeezed tighter. “What is my name?”

Steven opened his mouth as if to say it, but screamed instead. The blanket unraveled from around him. He melted to the floor, curling up in a ball with his hands over his ears, his eyes closed, and screamed.

There was a loud bang as someone broke down his door. Steven looked, and his room was back to normal, but one of his neighbors had come in. Was the nightmare over?

40 years later, Steven still remembered it well. He had tried to explain, but no one listened. Now he was here, looking through a glass window and listening to the news. “Another string of mysterious deaths has come up in the city of Mayton…”

Steven knocked on his door and a guard came. “What do you want?”

“It was him!” he cried frantically. “It was him! It was him!”

“We know, we know, old man, we’ll get him. Go to bed.” The guard shut the door in Steven’s face.

“It was him!” he screamed, pounding on the door. “It was him!” The guard shook his head and walked away.

Steven collapsed to the floor, whimpering helplessly, “It was him…it was him.”