‘As I was going up the stair,

I met a man who wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there again today.

I wish, I wish he’d go away.

Emily Dickenson’

There was a storm. Thunder rumbled and rain poured on the night that I stole the formula. Little did I then know that those would be the jest of my life from the point that I drank of the serum…an act I have ever regretted. My name is Skinner. I may be better known to you as the so-called invisible man. It is true, I cannot be seen— not in a mirror, or in a reflective pool of water crystal clear— not even if I stood directly in front of you, waving my arms would you take notice, save for the sudden and brief surplus of a breeze.

It all began a year ago, in (year), when I took my first step (though it may actually be considered to have been more of a leap) towards becoming a thief.There were rumors circulating around London, telling of a scientist who had concocted a cause for invisibility. I was not a wealthy man; I therefore committed to steal it.

It was not an easy task to get my hands on that formula, that one-way ticket to the rest of my life. To succeed I had to manipulate. To manipulate, I had to lie. To lie, I needed first to know exactly how to word my mistruths; and for that, I needed an ally.

And so, my search for one began—I needed someone I could trust to fulfill my mission, needed someone who had nothing, and yet everything, to lose…just as I did.

One day, not a week after composing my scheme, I was walking through the market, looking for anyone that had the look of a pawn I might use while playing out this work-in-progress. It was there that I first met Edmund Thomason, a commoner, a deliverer for one of the merchants in the market. When I say ‘met’ him that is not entirely accurate. I more precisely ran into him, or rather walked. As I rounded a corner, not paying much attention to where I was going, it was both my mistake and my fortune to brush shoulders with Mr. Thomason, shoving him slightly—but enough—into a salesman’s stand. A finely-crafted glass vase, tinted to reach a rich golden hue was knocked out of place to meet a new one in pieces on the dirt ground. I’d seen an opportunity to catch it, but passed up the chance to assess the man I had collided with. He was young, like me, probably in his early twenties. He had medium-length light brown hair and deep blue eyes. In height, I had a couple of inches on him; he was exactly what I was looking for. He was an average young man—still very much impressionable.

“Forgive me.” He required, searching for acceptance of his plea in my emotionless eyes.

First clearing my throat, I replied in a careless fashion. “Think nothing of it. It was as much my fault as yours, after all.” I took in a deep breath. “But…” I began to enter a territory that would either assist or condemn me that moment. If he agreed to my request, I would be victorious in my initial quest. If not, he could have reported my plan to authorities. Oh, how I now wish he’d done the latter.

“I wonder, mister, uh…?” I lead to the matter of his name, waiting patiently—like a certain type of fish I once read about, that sits on the bottom of the ocean floor, waiting for its prey to come to it. When the prey approaches, it remains still. When the prey begins to take little bites of it, taking it for dead, again, it remains still. Then, when its quarry is completely unaware, it takes action and claims its prize. At that time, in that very minute, I was the fish; and Mr. Thomason was my game.

I remember the time now nearly as well as if it were yesterday, rather than a year past. I was not afraid that I would be revealed by this boy—he did not have the looks of a traitor. In fact, he looked very much as if he might follow my orders explicitly down to the very…last…detail…That is what made him the perfect candidate for my aide.

The blue eyes of my new-found associate met my own of near-black. “…Thomason, sir, at your service.”

This intrigued me. How willing was he to stick to that pledge? It could prove interesting to find out, I decided. “Mr. Thomason, I wonder if I might persuade you to do me a favor.” A long grin took over my face when he said ‘I think that would be very possible, sir.’

A week passed, then two weeks, and before I knew it, three. Edmund had been in my service in that duration, and had secured himself a new position as the creator’s assistant—that is, the creator of my goal. He went every day to the laboratory, and throughout the day ran errands for and cleaned and observed various experiments for the old man. Finally, at the conclusion of a month, he had all the knowledge I needed to succeed.

The night of the first of July, I broke into the quarters of our good doctor and obtained what I had yearned sine first hearing mention of it: the liquor for invisibility. As I raised the vial to my lips, an alarm sounded, not far, not far at all. I cursed Edmund with my last breath as a man to be seen, then gulped down the fluid and darted out of the building. I began to run—not caring where I ended up, just fleeing from the scene. While I did so, it happened that I caught a glimpse of my hand, or the lack of it. Where there was no arm connecting to it, there was a sleeve. And to that was connected an entire jacket, which floated over a pair of pants and two seemingly empty shoes. You see, I may be invisible, but clothing certainly isn’t. And so I disposed of mine, stripping off my jacket, untying my shoes, and so forth until there was nothing between my bare skin and the night air. This certainly wasn’t what I’d had in mind…and most definitely was no boon—but I had no choice. I had sought after invisibility and this came in the package along with not being able to talk to anyone unless they were blind, and having to steal all my food and drink without suspicion. It was all packed up for me, gift-wrapped, if you will, and I couldn’t do anything about that.

I had nowhere to stay; I couldn’t pay rent to a proprietor when they would never see me, and eventually grow suspicious that I was doing some illegal sort of cult-act that required them to throw me out, but couldn’t because they could not see me! I was lost, in a sense, with no where to turn. Yet…there was one epiphany that rose in my mind. Edmund. He surely was the person that had alerted someone of my plot! For that, I would make him pay.

It was five days after the robbery of the laboratory that the body of one Edmund Thomason was discovered in an alleyway not a block from the scientist’s residence, gripping the vial that had once contained a formula of…invisible proportions. Cause of death: unknown to the authorities. As known to me: asphyxiation.

You know, I hadn’t really considered it before the entire ordeal, but after it, I discovered that once a person’s become invisible, it’s bloody hopeless tryin’ to get ‘em back. I tried getting back to normal, I really did. I researched a range of experimenters, seeking anyone who had done similar studies…anyone that might be able to help. My efforts were without compensation, but through them I did learn one thing—one more, terrible mistake I had made: Edmund had not betrayed me; he couldn’t have. Working for the inventor of my downfall had made Edmund so interested in science; he had gotten positions with other scientists in attempt to discover the one he felt most comfortable with. He was going to try his own hand at inventing. He had a bright future before him. And I took it away, shot it into the dark...

I am the Invisible Man.

‘As I was going up the stair,

I met a man who wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there again today.

I wish, I wish he’d go away.’