Chapter 2!!!!!
sorry I took so long to post this gang ✌️🥹
I read the letter over and over again, praying that it would make sense the next time. There was no signature. No explanation. Just a perfect description of my day, my routine, my exact movements, and my thoughts. Down to the smallest details. Brewing my coffee. My morning run. My trip to buy a bagel. Everything was right. Everything aligned. Even the things I didn’t say aloud. Things only I knew.
This had to be a prank.
But how could anyone ever guess these things so precisely? How did someone get inside my brain?It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t have been. No human could have put pen to paper and described something with such eerie accuracy. As if there was an unseen eye, looking at me, observing my every move, reading my thoughts.
At least, that was what it was for the most part. All that was different was the first line, written in a brown ink… a reddish brown. And instead of talking about me, it was talking directly to me.
What did this mean? I always do? Believe what?
It made no sense. There were no other words to describe it. It made no sense.
The rest of the letter was written in neat, controlled handwriting. It seemed familiar in a way that made my skin crawl.
My thoughts were so scattered. It was 8:56, but I couldn’t put down the letter and drive to work.
6:30 A.M.
You wake up before your alarm actually finishes ringing, and lie there for 12 seconds before turning it off.
You consider skipping your morning run today, because your knee aches slightly. You decide the discomfort is irrelevant.
I never told anyone about my knee.
You pass Mrs. Holloway on the sidewalk. She smiles sweetly, and you return it. You wonder briefly how she’s been after her husband passed away last month.
My stomach began to twist.
You prefer the coffee shop on the corner because you can see both exits. Not because you’re paranoid, just because you like options. It doesn’t matter, because you always use the same exit anyway.
The letter continued, word after word, line after line, in precise detail, everything up until… now.
You’re standing in your kitchen. The overhead light has been flickering, but you pretended not to notice. You’ve read this letter 4 times already. You’re about to read it a fifth.
My head snapped upward. The light flickered once. Twice. Slow. Mockingly.
My heart was pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears. How did the letter predict what I was about to do? Ink can’t rearrange itself. Paper can’t guess.
I got up to change the light bulb. I was already scared enough, and sitting in the dark wouldn’t help. Then something caught my eye.
There were new words appearing on the page.
You get up to change the light.
Those words weren’t there before.
Slowly, carefully, I picked up the paper, my fingers trembling.
The overhead light went out completely. Darkness swallowed the kitchen. And for the first time in years, my routine shattered.