I entered the house in a hurry, anticipating to just collapse on my bed and take a pleasant nap but the more I rushed to make it to my sanctuary, the clumsier I started to get. I dropped my keys twice and tripping over the doormat was the last straw. As I glanced over at the doormat that nearly caused me a potential concussion, a few mails caught my eye: a takeaway menu from the shop down the street, the same leaflet that is sent to my house every week and an envelope- an envelope that lay under the doormat quite conspicuously. I hastily reached for the envelope with curiosity and began examining it.
Strangely enough, my whole name, including my middle name that I never use, was written in red ink across the front in deliberate, almost spectral, handwriting; it sent a cold shiver down my spine. There was no return address.
I stood there for longer than necessary, eyes still focused on the envelope, too hesitant to reveal what’s inside. I felt the temperature inside the house decrease as time flowed- as if someone had glued me to the spot. Mustering up my remaining courage, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and my pulse that was hammering against my ribs.
I wedged my fingernail into the seam where the adhesive was weakest, working it slowly to avoid a loud tear. I slowly took out the single sheet, folded only once. While scrutinizing the now open letter, an epiphany strook me. The recognition of the handwriting sent my body into alert.
The handwriting was mine.
It wasn’t difficult to make this assumption because the slant in the writing was identical to my own- down to the way my t’s leaned forward and my l’s leaned back. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at this inane matter. Someone was messing with me; I was certain they were. This had to be some sick joke.
The letter was short- three sentences, straightforward:
-At 13:11 tomorrow, your phone will buzz twice and stop.
-Your teacher will repeat the same sentence three times without realising.
-You will hear them call your name and not answer.
//
I deciphered the letter repeatedly, slower each time. My smile faded uncontrollably.
The first two predictions were absurd because they were incredibly easy guesses. Phones buzz all the time. Teachers repeated themselves constantly. Reaching this logical conclusion, I tucked the letter inside my bag absentmindedly while comforting myself that this was a futile joke. But the last sentence of the letter lingered in my mind- no matter how hard I tried to distract myself.
At exactly 13:11 the next day, my phone buzzed twice and went silent.
I couldn’t help but stare at the screen until it dimmed. I couldn’t concentrate on the lesson anymore unlike others who were enjoying the moment without the fear of the unknown. That's what caused adrenaline to flood my body, swallowing it whole.
Midway through class, Miss William paused mid-sentence, frowned, and started again; it was completely uncharacteristic of her. She repeated herself once. Then again. On the third time, a group at the back snorted loudly. She looked away embarrassed and continued with the lesson.
I didn’t; more like couldn’t.
The words from the letter haunted me for the rest of the day. The last prediction was approaching. ‘You will hear them call your name and not answer.’ The line echoed through my mind as if someone was screaming at me in an empty hallway. Isolated. Helpless. Confused. I flinched at every sound. With each call of my name, I responded too quickly, heart racing, desperate to prove the letter wrong.
By the time the final bell rang, I was exhausted from constantly being alert.
I gathered my notes from class and packed my stationary in a hurry, but when I looked up everyone had already left- except Miss William, of course, who was busy wiping the board. As I approached the board to leave, my gaze caught on the pen on the floor right behind her. As I crouched down to reach for it, Miss William’s boots were facing me. I frowned. I stood up, but the view of her still wiping the board rather than facing me made me stumble back a few steps. My eyes snapped back to her feet and to my horror, I realised that her feet were reversed!
She must have heard me stumble since she snapped her neck in a freakishly fast manner to face my direction.
“Is everything alright?”, she asked in her usually comforting whisper but in this moment, the question itself was petrifying. I didn’t dare look down. Trying to conceal my frightened expression, I simply nodded at her with a forced smile. As her scaly hands reached out for the pen, I realised that I couldn’t control the shaking of my hand. Before she could utter another word, I rushed out of the classroom frantically and ran all the way home.
The envelope awaited on the kitchen table. I didn’t remember putting it there, but I pushed the thought aside.
Once again, I unfolded the letter with shaking hands. The three lines were still there, unchanged. So, it was real? The third prediction wasn’t going to happen. This was all a coincidence- a silly, absurd coincidence, I reaffirmed.
That was when I heard a sound - slow, deliberate footsteps echoed across the house. Upstairs. But I should have been home alone. I held my breath, but I knew my pacing heart gave me away. I froze to the spot, trying to register the slightest movement. It stopped at the top of the stairs.
Then, my name was spoken.
In a sibilant whisper like an inevitable curse.
I looked down at the letter one last time.
My name was spoken again, closer this time…
The letter hadn’t been warning me.
It had been waiting.