If You See Him Once, He Follows You (Part 1)

I saw the Gooweny-Ein yesterday. I was coming home from work on my usual route – the one that goes under the old rail bridge near 9th street – and there he was, sitting up on the track. At first, I didn’t know it was him. He just looked like a regular guy; his bowler hat and brown suit seemed a bit dated, sure, but he didn’t seem especially strange. He could easily have been an elderly man still clinging to the fashion of his glory days, or a young man into vintage fashion. Of course, I couldn’t see his face. If I had, I would have known he wasn’t human – though if the legends are true, I guess it wouldn’t have done me any good anyway. At any rate, the sight of a man on the bridge didn’t set off any alarm bells. It was still broad daylight, and people were always up there. Those tracks hadn’t been used in decades, making them the perfect place for sightseers, teens, fishermen, and people in search of solitude. It wasn’t till I was under the bridge that I started to feel on edge, as if something was watching me. More accurately, it felt like everything was watching me. The bushes, the river and even the steel support beams themselves seemed to monitor my every move. Goosebumps covered my arms, and the hair on my neck stood on end. Yet, after looking around me, I breathed a sigh of relief to find nothing unusual. The river calmly flowed, the bushes lightly rustled in the wind, and the beams were solid around me. Nothing was amiss.

Then, I made the mistake of looking up.

There he was, standing upside down, his back bent like he was craning his neck to look up at the sky, only he was actually looking down at me. I could see his pale, awful face now. Most of it was blank; his only features were two goat-like eyes on either side of his long chin and a horrid mouth that stretched from ear to ear. His thin red lips curled into a ghastly smile that looked like the grin of a cartoon villain, just twisting and widening until it spiralled at the ends. He nodded and tipped his hat to me, as if this were a polite meeting, to which I shrieked higher and louder than I knew myself capable of. Jumping back, I lost my footing and fell onto the gravel path. It hit the ground hard but was too shaken to feel the pain yet. As soon as I got back to my feet, I ran like hell. By the time I got to my apartment and locked the door behind me, I was panting hard and so sweaty that I must have looked like I’d just come out of a pool. I was surprised I didn’t die right then and there from either a heart attack or dehydration.

Initially, I didn’t know what to make of the whole experience. I mean, I hadn’t thought about the Gooweny-Ein since I was twelve. He was just one of those tales that kids tell to pass the time and freak each other out; a campfire story, a school bus urban legend. At forty-three years old, you assume the strange occurrences in your life are due to illness, illusion, or technology, not the freaking Boogeyman or the Gooweny-Ein! But the stories came to my mind all the same. It’s like the preschool version of me recognized the monster instantly for what it was; it just took the adult me a while to accept it. And accept it I had to. At first, I told myself that I was just being crazy, or that it had been a trick of the light, but it wouldn’t be long until I’d catch glimpses of his hat or suit everywhere I went. It was enough to make me start to question my mature sensibilities, to say the least.

Then, last night, I heard him scratching at my window. You have to understand, my bedroom is on the 11th floor of an apartment building, and the balcony is off the living room on the other side of the unit. There’s only bricks below that window ledge - nothing to climb up or stand on – yet there he was from dusk till dawn, calling my name. I could see his shadow through the tightly closed blinds. Any remaining doubts I had about what he vanished like it was Jimmy Hoffa.

I found myself desperately trying to recall the details about this monster. It’d been so many years since I’d heard them, and like with any urban legend, the story changes a little with each retelling. The consistent thing was that they say that after the first time you see him, he follows you. He can’t hurt you until you see him twice, though. Based on my prior experiences, it didn’t seem like glimpsing his hat or suit counted, which was good for me. If glimpsing his outfit did count as a second look, then I guess I'd be dead or worse by now. I gathered you either needed to see more of him or needed to see his face, though I wasn’t sure which it was. As to what he does when you see him twice, well, there’s lots of theories about that – all horrifying.

Some say he drains the life from you and leaves your body dried out like an ancient mummy, your eyes burnt and melted out of your skulls, your face still fixed in expressions of pure terror. Some say he compels you to let him inside and then eats you up. I’ve heard versions where he devours you like a wild animal, and others where he’s more sophisticated and uses his long nails like straws to suck you dry. Having seen him, he does seem like the type of demon to show some manners, so I’m more personally inclined to believe that, if he does eat you, he uses the finger-straw method. Honestly, I hope one of these versions of the story is true, because it’s the last version of the story that scares me most.

In the last version of the tale, he paralyzes you with his smile, then he lets himself into wherever you're hiding. You can still feel everything, but you can’t move or speak as he moves closer. You’re just left helpless as he uses his nails as a scalpel to split you open like he’s performing an autopsy. Then, while you’re still alive, he climbs inside. Supposedly, he then uses you like a hand puppet to go on a killing spree, targeting anyone he comes across. You’re conscious and aware of all of it, feeling your bones break and your ligaments snap as he moves you, watching him murder innocent people with your own hands, but you can’t stop it – even if he attacks someone you love.

Truth is, I never want to find out what really happens, yet I fear it’s only a matter of time until I do. I thought about offing myself or gouging out my eyes; I figure I can’t see him again if I’m dead or lose my vision. Hell, I even got out a drill to try and blind myself, but I couldn’t go through with it. I tell myself I can stay inside and avoid him, but deep down, I know, eventually, I will see him again.