The Midnight Game

I feel the need to tell someone this story, as it still remains possibly the
strangest experience in my life so far. Needless to say, not much has
been the same since I went through these events.
A bit of background. I used to live in a sizeable house just outside of
Seattle in Washington State. The house was located up in a wooded
suburb and was within a short driving distance of the town I worked in at
the time. I was a high school English teacher and thoroughly pleased with
the job I had. At the time, I had been working in the school for more than
two years and little of note had happened during that time. That was,
until I set my sophomore group their creative writing exercise.
The date was close to Halloween, and I therefore decided to set them an
exercise which involved writing something spooky. I wanted to do
something that interested them while also allowing them to explore their
imagination and work on writing prose. The exercise was simple; write me
something between 200 1000 words. The only rules were that it had to
be original, and that it had to frighten me. I deliberately failed to specify
that this needed to be a story, because I wanted to see what the kids
could come up with if they could write outside of a normal narrative.
I could never have expected the results that came back.
Mostly the pieces I received were bland and uninspired. Most sounded like
rehashings of other horror stories and pretty much none tried to be
anything other than a spooky story. However, there were two that stood
out; the pieces written by Brandon and Sabrina.
Brandon was a perfectly average kid. He had friends but was not one of
the big shots in the school, got average grades, and otherwise seemed
exceptional only in how forgettable he really was. Sabrina was something
a bit different. First of all, she didnt look like all the rest of the class. She
was of Chinese descent which immediately let her stand out in a crowd,
but it was also her extremely pale complexion and long, untied hair that
spilled around her face. She was extremely quiet and I can barely recall a
single instance of her talking to other students, let along contributing in
class. As far as the rest of the class was aware, she didnt appear to exist
at all.
Their pieces are what stood out in this creative writing exercise, not only
because they were both so good, but because of how closely they seemed
to mirror one another.
Brandons piece was the first one I read that wasnt a short story, but
something very different. It was titled How to Play the Midnight Game
and I have copied it here for you to read:

The Midnight Game is a game of survival that must be played in your own
home. The game has several rules that must be followed, but the overall
objective of the game is to avoid the Midnight Man until the time of his
departure. First of all, any players must gather the necessary objects to
begin:
A candle
A lighter or box of matches
Paper
A pen
A jar of salt
A drop of your own blood
The first step of the game is to turn off all the lights in your house, both
artificial and natural. The house needs to be in total blackness for the
game to take place.
Next, the player must invite the Midnight Man into their house. The ritual
is as follows.
The player must write their full name, first, middle, and last on the sheet
of paper and place a small drop of his/ her own blood on it as well. This
sheet of paper must then be laid on the ground just outside the front door
and the candle placed on top. Light the candle and knock on the door 22
times. While knocking you must also whisper the night is cold and
unforgiving, but I am a welcoming host and the 22nd knock must happen
when the clock strikes midnight. When this happens, blow out the candle,
open the door, and step through. If done correctly, you will have allowed
the Midnight Man to enter your house.
Now is when the game begins, and you must start by immediately
relighting the candle. Once the candle is lit, your job is to avoid the
Midnight Man until the clock reaches 3:33. The Midnight Man cannot
touch you so long as the candle is lit, so ensure that it does not go out. If
the flame is lost, you must relight it within 10 seconds to keep the
Midnight Man away. So long as you relight the candle in time, the game
continues and you will be safe.
If you fail to relight the candle, this is when you must use the salt. After
10 seconds passes you must take the salt and create a circle of it on the
ground around your feet. This circle will also keep the Midnight Man at
bay, but from here on you will not be able to move. Any steps taken
outside the ring of salt will allow the Midnight Man to reach you. The
other important thing is that you must not relight the candle once hiding
in the ring of salt; doing so will bring him within the circle, and not even
the candle light will stop him.
Also remember to stay awake. If, at any point during the game, you fall
asleep, the Midnight Man will catch you immediately.

What happens if the Midnight Man catches you is unknown. They say it is
different for different people, but it is not something you will want to
experience.
Some tips for the game are as follows:
The Midnight Man cannot reach you if the candle is lit, but he will try to
extinguish the candle if he gets too close. Strange breezes moving within
the house are a definite sign that the Midnight Man is closing in. Stay
moving if you can. The Midnight Man is not fast but he is patient. If you
can keep moving from room to room as the hours tick by, you will be
much more likely to avoid him. You can only hide for so long, because he
will always find you eventually. Keep moving.
Also look out for other signs that he is close. Sometimes objects will
move slightly as he brushes past them, and other people have said that
the temperature of the room can change if he enters. Although the
Midnight Man has no clear visible form, sometimes you may see a shape
that appears as if seen in the corner of your eye. Look out for these signs,
and keep moving to prevent him from getting close enough to extinguish
your candle.
When the clock reaches 3:33 the Midnight Man will leave on his own and
you can turn on any lights you wish in the house. He will not return
unless invited in again by the proper ritual.
If you choose to play this game, remember my advice and I wish you the
best of luck.

Brandons piece was certainly inspired and incredibly creepy. I could not
think of any other piece of media from which he might have gotten his
ideas, and I was most impressed by the notion that he had constructed an
entire game for his creative writing exercise. Although Brandons piece
left me creeped out but impressed, Sabrinas piece left me feeling deeply
unsettled. It went as follows.

Keep moving. Keep moving. Thats the trick, they always say. Keep
moving and he cant catch you. One room to another, one room to
another, but dont walk too fast.
He waits, and he is patient. One mistake. One mistake is all he needs.
He wants a mistake and then then too late.
Out, out and then darkness. I fumble to find it but I bring back the light.
Safe. Only 6. I am safe. Must move. Keep moving, keep moving. Can
he see? Does he know? Hide here and wait. Time passes.

Cold. So cold. He must be here. Keep moving. Not too close or he will
reach. Long reach. Invisible reach. Stay away, stay moving, stay hidden.
Cold.
Nowhere to hide. Cant hide anyway. He is patient and he is persistent.
Hide for a while but he will find you. Find me. Must keep moving. Slowly.
Mustnt let it go out again. Lucky once, not again.
Ripples. Down the curtains. Stayed too long. Coming. So close. So cold.
Out. Too late. 11. Make a ring and make it fast. Done.
Waiting. No light now. All black, all sides. Safe. They call this safe. Just
waiting. 45 to go. Wait and hope.
Face. Blackness hides a face. I cannot see but it sees me. It is there.
Feel it. So cold. Safe. Waiting. Cannot reach through the ring. Closer.
Closer. Closer.
More. More black eyes looking on. How? How can there be more? This is
safe? No. Closer and closer. So many. Watching and I cannot see.
Reaching and I cannot see.
Red. They never said it needed to be red. Why? No! Red, red, red! Too
late! Rules are made to be broken. Not these rules. Didnt know.
Couldnt know. Too late now. All blackness.
Keep moving. Its what he does.

As far as I could tell, Sabrinas piece was some kind of emotional

monologue going through the mind of someone in an unmistakably
traumatic experience. What struck me more than the horrifying depiction
of a persons thoughts during a moment of pure terror, was how closely
this mirrored the game described in Brandons piece. It was uncanny.
Every detail, however sporadic and cryptic seemed to perfectly mirror
some element of the Midnight Game. And yet these two students had, as
far as I could tell, never spoken to one another. Let alone conspire to
write some parallel pieces to screw with my head. I resolved to figure out
exactly what was going on between them.
I approached Brandon and asked him exactly what had inspired him to
write the piece. His answers were general and he sounded uninterested
but, as far as I could gather, he had found out about the game from
another person. Brandon said that his friend had only given him a few
details, and he had filled in the rest. I went on to ask him if he had ever
played the game himself and he shrugged. He said that he had tried it
once and nothing had really happened. Altogether, the game and its
creation did not sound as terrifying or as otherworldly as it had sounded
on paper.

Talking to Sabrina, was a different matter.

When I asked her about the inspiration for her piece she responded only
with a few words at a time. Her first response was that it came from a
dream. I asked her if she can remember exactly what kind of events were
supposed to be taking place in the dream and she replied hiding and
moving. I then asked her if she had ever heard of the Midnight Game
and she turned to me with a look of stone cold fear. I was taken aback,
and all we could do was look at once another in silence until she finally
shook her head. I didnt believe that she didnt know about the game, so I
asked her if she had spoken to or worked with Brandon in any capacity.
She turned her head towards the ground and shook it again. Talking to
her had not revealed anything concrete, but it had stirred my interest in
the two stories to a whole new level. And at the same time, something
else was stirred in the pit of my stomach. I cant remember how to
describe it, but it felt like a sense of foreboding inevitability.
I redoubled my efforts to try and find out about this so-called Midnight
Game. Internet searches yielded similarly themed ideas of staying in a
room with all the lights out to see who would be the most scared, but
none of them mentioned something like a Midnight Man and none of them
held the same sense of careful, ritualistic order.
I branched out my search for similarly paranormal games and found many
hits on the Ouija board which allowed groups to speak with the dead. It all
sounded thoroughly nonsensical, but here I was searching for proof of
something equally impossible and unbelievable. Throughout all my
searches, I turned up nothing that made me understand the origins or the
purposes of the Midnight Game any better.
Things started getting stranger a few weeks later in school. Sabrina had
stopped coming to classes, in fact she had stopped turning up to the
school at all. I asked the office what her reason was and they said
something that made the colour drain from my face. They said there was
no record of a Sabrina in my class. In fact, there was no record of a
Sabrina ever coming to that school. There had been a Sabrina Merchant
who had attended the school the year before I arrived, but she had
dropped out in the spring term and never come back. No reason was
given for her apparent disappearance.
Sabrina had been there in my class, I knew it. There was no way someone
could convince me otherwise. Even so, I asked around within my class
and no one else, not even Brandon, could remember any girl there going
by the name of Sabrina. By this point, I was beginning to become
genuinely worried.
I went to talk to Brandon again about his piece and I asked about the
friend who had told him about it in the first place. He seemed to be
unable to remember, but he said that it had been a girl several years ago.

I asked if that girl had been called Sabrina and he could only say that it
might have been. As vague as he was, this new information was enough
to make me feel faint. I called in sick for work for the following couple of
days.
Everything about this was so surreal and so beyond a coincidence. I knew
that Sabrina had been sitting there for months in my class before she
seemingly vanished, and I still held her creative writing piece with the
emotional monologue.
The turning point which pushed me over the edge was a piece on the
news one evening.
It was a missing persons segment, and picture on the screen was none
other than Brandon. There were no known details of his disappearance,
other than the fact that a note had been left. It was not a suicide note or
a running away note, it was shown on the news footage and I could clearly
see what it was.
A piece of paper with his name on, and a single drop of blood in the
corner.
I felt like I might be sick.
I turned off the news and retreated into my room. Everything about this
was coming down around me and I had no idea how or why it was
happening and why it felt like I was somehow in the middle of it. All
possibility of rational thought and reasonable explanation was gone, and
the only thing left was a sense of dread and a clawing sense of
uncertainty that worked its way into my mind.
The days rolled by very slowly after that. I barely slept and barely ate.
There was no way I could work in this state, and I ignored all attempts
from the school to contact me. After possibly more than a week, I couldnt
tell, it was becoming too much.
Like a car slowly rolling towards the edge of a cliff, my mind was rotting
into what I can only describe as a kind of insanity. It felt like this whole
situation would kill me if I didnt do something.
All at once, I realised what I had to do. It was probably the most stupid
thing anyone in my situation could have done, but a broken mind does not
make sensible decisions. I gathered the materials, waited until it was
dark, and prepared myself for the ritual.
I wrote my name on the paper with a shaking hand and then looked at my
watch. It was 11:54. I then pulled out a pin and jabbed it into my left
thumb. A small bead of red grew on the end and I pressed it into the
page, forming a dot at the end of my name. The paper seemed to weigh a
ton, and as soon as I picked it up I the whole house groan quietly, almost
as if it were breathing in.

I flicked off all the lights and opened the front door. I already had all the
other pieces to hand including the candle. It was a thick white one like
the use in church and it was supposed to be able to burn for up to 24
hours. I only needed 3 and a half, but I wanted some sense of safety and
preparation. I used a lighter to ignite the candle and placed it on the
paper with shaking hands. I checked my watch. 11:59.
I began drumming my fist against my own closed door making every
strike deliberate and making sure to count them carefully. As I found my
slow rhythm I began to speak the words in a hoarse, trembling whisper.
The night is cold and unforgiving, and I am a welcoming host.
As my watch turned over to 00:00, I counted the 22nd strike against the
door. I paused just for a second, and then hurried to pick the candle up
and blow it out. I pushed the door open, stepped through, and slammed it
shut behind me. There I stood, in my own pitch black hallway. The game
had begun.
I reached for my lighter and found it where I had left it. It lit on the
second strike and I brought the candle back to life. It illuminated the
hallway enough that I could see the stairs leading down the left to the
basement and those turning right to go to the second floor. It was at this
point, I realised just how quiet it was.
Normally in this part of the area you would hear cicadas all around all
night long. The things were deafening and continuous, but now there was
no sound at all. The only thing I could hear was the vibrations of my own
breathing coming through my chest and into my head. Coupled with that
was the rapid throb of my heart, beating its way out of my chest. I truly
had no idea what I was waiting to see, or if anything was supposed to
happen, or if this was all just my own insanity and nothing was ever
coming. For what felt like a very long time, I could only stand in the
hallway.
And then something else drew breath.
Over to my left, I swear I could have heard someone inhale gently. There
was nothing to see in the dim light of my candle, but it was enough to
bring me out of my stupor and remember the rules of the game. I moved
over to the right and slowly walked through into my living room. The top
of the stairs to the basement were out of sight, and the space where the
noise had come from remained silent. I carefully sat down on the couch
and checked my watch.
00:04
I resolved to sit here for a while. As far as I could figure out, I could stay in
one place for a short while and then move every so often. I did not want
to continuously walk around the house for fear that I might walk into

whatever was supposed to be in here with me. I waited in the darkness,

my vision fixed on the double doors into the room.
00:28
I wasnt dozing but I suddenly felt myself jolt awake when the hairs stood
up on the back of my neck and arms. It wasnt fear, but cold. A wet kind
of cold like someone had suddenly splashed a few drops of iced water
down my neck. As the sensation went trickling down, I got to my feet.
The candle remained lit, and the door remained clear. Or did it?
The door was definitely clear, but in the left hand side the air seemed
almost darker than the rest. The dim light from the candle seemed to
struggle to get through that air more than the other side. It had no shape,
and the effect was faint, but it had the appearance of a shadow on the air
itself. I stepped further back into the room.
The shadow did not move as though it was a cloud, but the darkening
effect seemed to seep round the corner towards the place where I had just
been sitting. I paused just long enough to make sure the door appeared
clear, and passed through. I had avoided the Midnight Man and made my
way upstairs.
01:12
I stayed some time in my own bedroom and then moved myself to the
guest bedroom. In neither room did I encounter any more wispy shadows,
but the house continued to feel more hostile. It almost felt like the house
itself was breathing. The total silence meant I could hear the groans of
wood expanding and contracting, but on this night the movements
seemed almost human. Alive.
The quiet was broken by the sound of something dropping. It came from
my own room; the room I had just left. I couldnt figure what it was, but
that was a mystery I would solve later. I got the impression I was staying
just ahead of the Midnight Man, and took my opportunity to move rooms
again. I walked slowly into the bathroom and sat down on the closed seat.
1:32
It was not long before I realised that I was not as far ahead as I thought.
This time I did not feel the cold as much as see it. The silver objects in the
room like the taps and mirrors began to form a thin, beady layer of
condensation. I waited for the shadow to appear at the door but it did not.
I stared, fixated on the door, not sure how I would react when and if the
Midnight Man did try to enter.
A scraping sound behind me caused me to turn around. Across the mirror
was a long, single, scratch. It started from top right and went down to
bottom left, and behind it was something that made my blood turn
freezing.

Reflected in the mirror, standing in the door of the bathroom was a shape.
In the dim light of the candle it remained nothing but a featureless
silhouette, but it was plainly in the shape of a tall, thin figure.
I couldnt move. I turned back to the door and still could see nothing.
Back to the mirror. The shape stayed where it was. The condensation
began to pool at the top of the mirror and run down it like finger of cold
water. I turned back to the door, my breath now coming out in short,
sharp stabs. Still nothing.
Another shriek of glass came from the mirror and I turned to face it once
again. Another crack, crossing the other to form an X had appeared, and
the shape had moved one or two steps into the room. As I stared, its head
began to move and, in faintest of voices, I heard two, raspy words.
Found you.
The bath curtains lifted up and a breeze rushed over my hands. The
candle flickered out in one motion and I was then left in total blackness. I
frantically fumbled for the lighter and found it in my pocket. In my head, I
counted out the seconds. 3 4 5
Mercifully, the lighter burst into flame on the first strike and the candle
was relit by the 6th second. I held it aloft and waved it around the room.
Nothing. The scratches on the mirror remained but the shape behind
them was gone. I wasted no time and practically sprinted for the door,
shielding the flame with my other hand.
2:05
I was crouched down in the basement, the last place I considered to hide.
I didnt know how, but it was as if I knew that I couldnt stay in one of the
rooms I had already been in. This was the last large space I could remain,
it after this I didnt know where to go.
The basement was full of miscellaneous items. A few bikes, tools, an old
fold away bed, and the washing machine. There was a long window along
the top of the wall which would normally let in light from the garden, but it
was covered by a short curtain that looked orange in the light. The candle
cast many shadows over the walls, but none of them seemed hostile. Yet.
My watch showed me that I still had an hour and a half to go. I wondered
why I had ever decided to go through with this madness and how I
thought this would ever fix what was wrong with me. The only thing
keeping me going was the thought that maybe, just maybe if I beat this
thing, my life would somehow return to normal.
I was brought out of my own mind when I saw the curtains lift and then
drop. It was steady, and a few seconds later they rose again and back
down, as if breathing. Another wave of cold washed over me and I
prepared myself to move. I stood up, and turned away from the curtains.

Surprise.
The black shadow of a face loomed right in front of me, and no sooner had
it said those words than it shot out one, short breath and blew the candle
right out.
Again, I reached for the lighter while counting the seconds in my head. I
could not find it! It was right there! This was the only picket it could be in!
4 5 6
I reached again and this time my fingers found it. I ripped it out and
began hammering the button. Sparks. Only sparks.
8 9
It would not light. There was nothing. Nothing!
10
I felt like something dropped in my stomach. Absolute terror gripped me
and I almost fell to the floor. It might only have been for a few moments,
but it felt like I was frozen in time and had already died. Almost
unconsciously, my other hand reached for the jar of salt.
I crouched down and popped the top. Sweeping my hand steadily around
me I painted a circle, listening to the grains gently rattling on the stone
floor. I could not see the shape, but as my hand returned to where it
started I felt sure that I had made the circle. I lightly tapped around me to
check, and sure enough there was a thin wall of salt around me. My last
line of defence.
2:50
I sat there, in the pitch blackness, with not but the sound of my own
breathing. There we no shadows because there was no light, and I felt like
the sensory deprivation itself was enough to make me collapse. All I could
do was wait. This was what the rules had said. So long as I stayed in the
circle of salt, I was safe until the Midnight Man left.
Until I felt something appear in front of me.
I could not see. There was no light - there was nothing to see - but I knew
it was there. A face. The same face that had blown out my candle, was
staring at me out of the darkness. I knew it was there and it knew I was
there. We were locked in a blind staring contest, just the two of us. 43
minutes to go, and this is how they would be spent.
Until I felt another one.
Right next to the first face I felt another one. This one I could hear the
breathing. It was steady and patient. Then I heard another sound, the
sound of dry, quiet laughter. And then another. And another. These

things kept appearing, still hidden in the blackness, and all of them were
fixated on me. I wished I could crawl into myself and hide, but there was
nothing but a wall of salt between me and them. The rules had never
explained the idea of there being more than one. The rules were so clear,
so comprehensive. This was not something they would leave out. Could
they have left something out? I felt the faces close in.
The breathing became louder, faster, closer. They were getting excited.
They knew I was right there, and they were so close they could almost
touch me if they wanted. I tried to will them back, thought about pushing
the presence away with my mind, but they only kept coming closer.
Eventually, I could feel their breath on my face, hear their whispers right
in my ear. There was no escape, and there was no protection. Between
their whispers, one word began to ring more clearly than the others.
Red red red should have been red
I couldnt think for a second, but then it dawned on me. The words were
the same as in Sabrinas story, the part where she also fell victim to the
Midnight Man. The candle remained clutched in my hand. The one rule of
the game that Brandon failed to mention, and the reason now why I
couldnt ever win the game from the start.
I lifted the candle and struck the lighter. It worked first time, and the room
burst into yellow light.
The face of Sabrina hovered right in front of me. The face of Brandon to
her left. Behind them, around a dozen other faces I did not recognise, all
of them staring at me and all of them smiling. The face of Sabrina came
forward so that it was just inches from my own.
Game over. And then nothing.
3:01
The next thing I knew, I was standing outside a door. My movements were
not my own; they happened as if on instinct. My body did not exist and all
memories of before were gone. I was a phantom, a phantom without a
conscious thought. As strange as it may seem, I did not mind. I felt calm.
I did not know where I was or what I was, but that didnt seem to matter. I
just was, and that was enough.
I could hear knocking, and someone whispering under their breath. Then
night is cold and unforgiving, but I am a welcoming host. I stepped past
the girl and in through the open door. I knew immediately what I was
supposed to do.
So remember, if you ever feel like playing the Midnight Game, gather your
paper, your candle, and your salt. Im always happy to find a welcoming
host, and all it takes it 22 knocks. Im not fast, but I am patient, and Ive

been playing this game for a very long time. If you keep your head and
luck is on your side, you still might be able to beat me.
So let me in. Light the candle. And spend a night with the Midnight Man.
Im waiting.