A Particular Kind of Man

A kind smile and an even kinder set of eyes adorned the man's face. He was more than just polite, he was the very picture perfect example of the model human being. He was always willing to help; he always helped old man Henry carry in his groceries, he hand wrote everyone on the block cards for every holiday, birthday, and wedding, he even became the unofficial neighborhood repairman. He embodied the very role of an exceptional neighbor.

"There he goes again." One neighbor said as we watched our "beloved" neighbor carry his tool kit to the newest house that needed fixing. A small leak in the pipe only needed a short visit from our resident handyman and it was as good as new. But people admired him for a variety of reasons, too many reasons.

"He's always asking me how I'm doing."

"He's so helpful!"

"He brought over fresh baked meals when my husband was in the hospital!"

"He's just so kind!"

And that was the problem, he was just so kind, too kind. It wasn't a genuine kind, at least not to me. Every warm smile had a creeping murderous intent, it was a soothing signal that calmed his prey. It prepped them, it told them he was to be trusted, it told them he was safe, it told them he was kind. And indeed he was kind but not as an adjective rather as a noun. He was the kind of man who knew how to ensnare, how to lure, how to trap.

He was the kind of man who knew no sanity but fed off the illusion of kindness he had concocted. It's inevitable that everyone falls for such an act as least once. After all, it is so easy to fall into something that seems so harmless. But there was always something so defining about him, so different, and so utterly alarming. The first time I ever realized was when he had decided to take my garbage cans out. Admittedly, it was a service I needed for I had completely forgotten such a small task amidst a terribly busy week. However, if I had noticed his true nature sooner I would've preferred he stayed on his side of the street and even more preferably inside his house.

"Oh you don't have to do that!" I exclaimed as he finished dragging the trash can out to the sidewalk.

"Of course I do!" He adorned a beautiful smile, one of warmth, one of safety, and ultimately one of deception. His pale blue eyes were glossy almost seemingly translucent but they locked onto my own as if I were a lifeline.

"Thank you." I had to force the words out while battling the prickling sensation that crawled up my neck.

He held that meticulously painted smile on his face as he continued to stare straight at me. His gaze was intense but not full, there was no hatred, no malice, no anger, no violence. That was what was so terrifying. There was simply nothing there, no hint of emotion at all, no hint of humanity. I wanted to break eye contact but even looking away for a mere second seemed dangerous. His smile seemed to stretch impossibly wide as I took a single step back. His teeth were impossibly white, almost as if the moon itself had kissed them, and they seemed to glow brightly in the night.

"I should get to bed." I attempted a smile as I took yet another step backwards. He didn't move. His facial expression didn't change, he simply stood and stared. I tried to inhale a shaky breath. "Goodnight."

With that final word he held up one hand and waved it ever so slightly as if attempting to say goodbye like a young child. That wretched smile was still plastered on his face with the accompaniment of his soulless eyes. It took everything in me to keep myself from running to the door. The naturalistic instinct in me told me to run, to escape, but I knew I had to maintain composure. The worst possible thing is showing a predator you're scared.

After that night I became the observer. I watched everything he did, every movement, every action, every loudly spoken word as well as every whispered one. He spoke to himself quite often, I had never realized that before. It was always broken bits and pieces of sentences such as a location followed by a color or a new random food or restaurant. It never made much sense and none of it ever fit together but he was consistent in muttering to himself everyday. I would watch as he would stare. He would occasionally just cast quick glances but more often then not he would hold them for just a little too long. Just long enough to make your skin crawl and hairs stick straight up and that pit in your stomach to be filled with an unending dread. Then he would flash a smile, a perfectly white crafted smile, and everyone would smile back. Then they would go on about their days discussing how he was such a good neighbor and how he was so helpful and how he was so considerate, so understanding, so perfect.

"Oh isn't he just so kind?"

He certainly was kind but not the kind one would want.