The tv was on. Sounds of a boring reality show about beach bums poured out. And there I was, lazily draped on the couch, browsing the app store on my phone for something more entertaining. There were some decent games, though most of those looked like bullshots. Decent cg trailers, but the in-game graphics were probably god awful.
 
Just when my boredom was about to get the best of me, when I would shove my phone back in my pocket, I stumbled across something rather odd. It looked like some kind of dating app. Sort of. There wasn’t a developer, or even any reviews. No pictures, no videos, not even an icon for the app itself.
 
It read: ‘Mal0 ver1.0.0. FREE! Never settle for those awkward feelings of being alone ever again. Mal0 is an exciting and interactive experience that will keep you engaged and intrigued. The anxiety of social situations can be nerve-racking, but after just a few hours of Mal0 you will soon forget all about those painful emotions of disappointment. Be part of the new craze that is quickly becoming the next social substitute. Remember, the more you participate, the more Mal0 will engage you. Your experience is completely up to you. Absolutely NO ADS. Enjoy!’
 
Looked pretty sketchy. Searching this Mal0 thing online didn’t give any results. Not even a passing mention. It was like this thing just popped up seconds ago or something. But, considering its mention of ‘new craze,’ there had to be someone else who knew what this was. I just shrugged and decided to try it out. If it wasn’t anything special, I could always delete it.
 
After clicking the install link, I was shoved out the app store, with a notification that the store had crashed. Weird. I checked my downloads and app list, seeing if maybe the Mal0 thing had managed to go through. No dice. I checked the store again but came up empty. I typed out the name of the app, several times, in different ways each time. M4l0, MaLo, Ma10, MALO. Nothing worked. It was just gone from the store entirely.
 
Probably some kind of fluke. Like maybe the app creator took it down before I had the chance to download, making the store freak out since there wasn’t anything there anymore. Yea, that’s how these things work, right? Whatever, it wasn’t on my phone, so I figured I might as well just watch some dull tv again. Flipping through the channels, I found a marathon of Futurama episodes and settled myself in for some good comedy.
 
About three hours later, my phone buzzed. A text from some unknown number. Opening the message showed me it was a picture of my office building. Standing just outside the building was a ghastly figure. Black hair all over their body, razor sharp claws from long fingers, and a canine skull with milky white eyes glaring out. Whoever this was had gone to a lot of trouble to try to spook me. Nice costume, too. Almost fooled me into thinking it was real.
 
Three more hours pass by and I get another text from an unknown number again. Most likely this is one of my friends messing with me, I assumed. Like before, this one was a picture, this time showing off the park I like to run through on my occassional jogs. Peeking out from behind the children’s slide was that same skull faced thing. It was just standing there, staring right at the camera. The glazed over eyes began to unsettle me, so I trashed the picture and got ready for bed.
 
The obnoxious alarm woke me up in the morning, my eyes burned by the slight amount of sunlight peeking through the curtains. After doing all my business in the bathroom, I came out to see my phone had several messages. And all of them were pictures of places I tend to visit often. Fast food joints, the little movie store downtown, the book store, Jim’s bar. Outside ever place was that skull face costume, just staring dead eyed into the camera. This was quickly losing what little humor it had.
 
I texted the number, asking which one of my asshole friends was doing this and demanding they stop fucking around. Hopefully, that was enough to keep whichever idiot it was from messing with me today. My office attire was then placed on. A nice button up shirt, decent slacks and shoes, and lastly, a crappy plaid tie my sister bought me. With my uniform ready, I was prepared to tackle the work day.
 
Work, as most days, was uneventful and dull. Not a lot of excitement in the wonderful world of accounting. Except for that time I uncovered a certain higher up embezzling funds, but that’s neither here nor there, nor was did that come about from me using some sort of expert accounting skills or anything of the sort. I merely stumbled into some documents of his that didn’t add up with the reports we had on record.
 
Hours later, with my ass sore from the time at my desk and my eyes tired of scanning reports and documents for any inconsistencies, I was ready to head home. Noticeably, I hadn’t received any pictures of that costumed asshole during work. Maybe whichever of my friends it was had finally decided they’d had their fun.
 
One uneventful ride home filled with blaring car horns of impatient douchebags later, I was ready to plop myself on the couch and unwind. Buzzing filled the silence as I reached for the tv remote. My phone had come to life, notifying me of a new message. Another picture.
 
This picture showed a familiar scene. My office. Not the building itself, but my actual office, with all the little knick knacks and whatnots I had decorated it with. And there, placed on my chair, was none other than the skull faced animal. The clock on the wall beside the desk showed the time to be 2:15. But that’s not possible. I was still at work then. I would’ve noticed a weirdo in a costume like that.
 
With hurried fingers, I typed a response, demanding answers. Who this person was, why were they doing this, and how did they get into my office.  Minutes passed with no response. Steeling myself, I called the unknown number. After tense seconds of hearing the tinny ring, the call was answered. I yelled at whoever picked up to stop fucking with me. I didn’t even care who it was at that point, the joke had gone too far. Showing up at my work, during office hours, and somehow barging into my room when I wasn’t there? This person was insane, and they needed to stop.
 
Silence filled the vacuum after my outburst. I heard nothing. Not even breathing. Then the call ended.
 
What if this wasn’t one of my friends and some random asshole? Yelling at them like that might not have been such a good idea, especially since they clearly know where I work and the general area around my home.
 
I did not sleep well that night, thoughts of an intruder not allowing me to calm down. All night my mind was plagued with the various ways I could be killed in my sleep. Every sound, no matter how small, no matter how usual it was, would drive my anxiety up further, and would further kick away the prospect of sleep.
 
As the first rays of sunlight streamed into my bedroom, I was flipping through my contacts, finally fed up with this whole nonsense. I was texting all my friends, asking which one of them had been messing with me, and why. Thankfully, it was the weekend, so there was not much for me to do that day but wait for whoever it was to fess up.
 
Around noon, everyone had gotten back in touch. Nobody admitted to being my costumed menace. I was just about ready to throw the phone at the wall in frustration when I got a new text. It was from that same unknown number. Like before, it had a photo attached.
 
The picture showed my kitchen, with the skull faced thing sitting at the dining table. For the first time, the picture had an accompanying message: “good morning.”
 
There was a lump in my throat. Whoever this was had somehow managed to get into my home without my knowledge. I was awake all night, I would’ve been able to hear someone breaking in. No one but my parents had a spare key to the place, and I highly doubt either of them would be messing with me like this.
 
I carefully and quietly got out of bed and tiptoed to my closet, pulling out my pistol. I argued with myself over whether or not this was necessary, but after a second picture was sent, this time of the thing in my living room, I steeled myself for what was to come. My breath came out uneven and nervous. Never before had I ever actually used my gun in self defense. I hoped the time at the range had properly prepared me for this.
 
Leaving my bedroom, I decided to take after all those police shows I used to watch and began to sweep the entire house room by room. Every time I came to a door, I double checked behind me and then barged in the room, my gun at the ready. Every room was empty. Every closet, every nook and cranny, every possible dark shadow anyone could hide in, empty. I was alone.
 
But this is impossible. Just seconds before, this person was in my living room. There was no logical way they could have left without making a single sound. Then again, they somehow got in without making noise, so who am I to know?
 
I checked every entrance and window. Locked, no sign of forced entry, nothing out of place. It was as if the person just teleported in and out of my home. But, the entire time I was checking around, I could feel the unmistakable feeling of eyes on the back of my head. Yet, I was by myself. I knew that for certain.
 
With not much else to go on, I decided to finally call the police. Maybe they could find something I couldn’t. Marching back to my room, I grabbed my phone and began to dial the non emergency number for the local station. I wasn’t in any immediate danger, after all. I explained the situation to the woman who answered, and she said she could send an officer out in a few minutes. She advised me not to leave my house and to not answer that unknown number again, saying if it was some kind of stalker, any direct contact could possibly aggravate the situation.
 
With the call ended, silence returned. But now, it was a silence I wasn’t so nervous about. Surely, the cops would be able to find the truth of this mess and stop this insanity. Nerves calmed, and my shaky breath regained its composure.
 
A knock on the door half an hour later announced the presence of the officer. I showed him the pictures, explained the whole ordeal as calmly as possibly, and even told him about how I checked the house myself and found nothing. He took this all in with a somber mood before asking if he could be allowed to check my home himself. After his own sweep of the area, he reached the same conclusion I did, that of absolutely nothing.
 
Like the lady of the phone, the officer advised to not answer the number and to remain vigilant. He even told me about a locksmith friend of his who could change the locks if I felt it necessary. I almost took the offer, but reminded myself no one but my parents had a key. Since there was no evidence to be found, the cop said his goodbyes and went on his way.
 
As I closed the door, my phone buzzed once more. Another text. The picture this time showed...me. Right where I was, in front of the door. And standing just behind me, close enough to touch, was that black furred thing. With it so close to the camera, which I now knew just could not exist, I realized it was no costume. The skull was wholly real, with blank white eyes poking through the sockets. The fur was too real, too matted with mud and dirt to be just a fancy suit.
 
The picture had a message, “Now we’re all alone.”