The events of yesterday refuse to leave my mind.

  That man—the one who spoke about the message I received—his warning felt sincere, but could I really trust him?

  I tried to convince myself he wasn’t real, that I had imagined the whole encounter. But no matter how much I willed it away, the feeling in my chest remained. A shift was coming, something inevitable, something that would upend everything I knew.

  I checked my emails, hoping for a follow-up. Nothing. Just schoolwork reminders, mundane and meaningless—like a written confirmation of how pointless everything had become.

  Going through the motions, I grabbed a hoodie and stepped outside for a walk. That’s when I noticed it—something was off.

  It was raining again.

  I hadn’t registered it before, assuming it was normal. But was it?

  Every single day, for as long as I’ve been trapped in this cycle, the ground has always been wet. The sky, always gray. Rain falls every night, without fail.

  That’s not probable.

  So what the hell is going on?

  I keep walking, head down, hood up, trying not to stand out. But my mind is stuck in loops.

  How long has it been since I moved out? What year of college am I in?

  I don’t know.

  I should know.

  My heart pounds in my chest, a deep, suffocating pressure that won’t go away. I try to piece it together, to force my mind into clarity, but the harder I think, the more it slips away—like sand through my fingers.

  I swallow hard and glance around. The rain falls in a steady, rhythmic patter, soaking the streets, the sidewalks, my shoes. It always rains. Always.

  But that’s not possible, is it?

  My stomach twists. I need to focus. Keep moving. Act normal. But what the fuck is happening?

  A flicker in the corner of my eye. I turn my head.

  A street sign.

  The words on it don’t make sense. They shift, distort, then settle into something that sends ice down my spine.

  "ERROR"

  I blink. Hard. But it’s still there. What the hell?

  A sharp vibration rattles in my pocket. My phone. I pull it out, my fingers damp and unsteady.

  [NO SENDER]

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  "Do not look up."

  I freeze.

  My breath catches in my throat. My pulse thunders in my ears.

  A chill seeps into my bones, a feeling I can’t explain—like something is just behind me, just beyond my line of sight.

  Then I see it.

  A shadow. Moving in my peripheral vision.

  Fast.

  Too fast.

  I don’t dare look up.

  But I can feel it. Watching me. Getting closer.

  Without hesitation, I bolt.

  My feet pound against the wet pavement, splashing through puddles as I sprint toward my apartment. I don’t look back. I won’t look back.

  The rain slams against me, cold and relentless, soaking through my hoodie, my jeans, my skin. The streetlights blur past as I push forward, lungs burning, every instinct screaming at me to run faster.

  I don’t know what I saw. I don’t know if it was real.

  But I felt it.

  That presence. That impossible, suffocating sense of something just out of sight.

  A sharp sound cuts through the rain—a footstep? No. A skittering.

  Like something moving wrong.

  Too many legs. Not enough weight.

  My stomach clenches. My body tries to freeze, but I force myself forward. I’m almost there. Just a few more blocks.

  My phone vibrates again.

  [NO SENDER]

  “Stop running.”

  No. No fucking way.

  I shove the phone back into my pocket and keep going.

  Then—

  The rain stops.

  Not gradually. Not naturally.

  All at once.

  The air goes thick and heavy, as if the world itself is holding its breath.

  And for the first time since I started running—

  I hear footsteps.

  Right behind me.

  Close.

  Too close.

  I freeze.

  The footsteps stop.

  My breath is ragged, my pulse hammering in my ears, but I force myself to turn around—slowly.

  There’s nothing.

  No one.

  Just the empty street, slick with rain, glistening under the dull glow of the streetlights.

  Then I see it.

  The footprints.

  Clear indentations forming in the water, one after another, moving toward me.

  Something is there.

  Something I can’t see.

  A fresh chill lances through my spine. My mouth goes dry.

  The footprints halt just a few feet away, the puddles rippling around them.

  It’s watching me.

  I want to move, to run, to do anything—but my body won’t listen.

  Then—pain.

  A sharp, searing pulse tears through my right eye, like a white-hot needle stabbing into my skull. The world warps. My vision blurs.

  I clutch my face, a strangled gasp escaping my throat—

  Darkness.

  Then—

  I wake up.

  Gasping. Drenched in sweat.

  My sheets are tangled around me. My heart pounds like I just ran a marathon. My room is dark, save for the dim glow of my laptop screen across the room.

  For a second, I think it was all a dream.

  Then I see the wet footprints leading from my bedroom door—

  to my bed.

  And my phone buzzes.

  [NO SENDER]

  "Have Fun."