THE LAST MESSAGE

Chapter 4: It Stands in the Room

Kwame didn’t sleep that night, not even for a second, because every time he tried to close his eyes, the whisper echoed in his head and the memory of the dark shape behind him forced them open again, and by the time the house fell completely silent, the fear had settled deep inside his chest like something heavy that refused to move. He lay still on his bed, staring into the darkness, his phone resting beside him, and even though he didn’t want to look at it, he couldn’t ignore it either, because he knew exactly what time it would happen. When the screen finally lit up on its own, he didn’t need to check the clock to know—it was 2:13 AM. The phone buzzed once, then again, then again, each vibration louder than the last until it felt like it was echoing through the entire room, but Kwame didn’t reach for it this time, instead shaking his head slightly and whispering no under his breath, as if refusing to answer would somehow stop whatever was happening. The buzzing suddenly stopped. The silence that followed felt worse than the noise, stretching unnaturally long as if the entire room was holding its breath, and then a new sound broke through it—a slow, dragging scrape coming from the corner of the room. Kwame’s body went completely still, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes shifted slowly toward the sound, his heart beginning to pound harder with each passing second. At first, he saw nothing, just darkness filling the corner like it always did, but then the darkness moved. Not like a shadow caused by light, not something normal, but something shifting on its own, pulling itself together into a shape that didn’t belong. Something was standing there. Tall—too tall—its head almost touching the ceiling, its body thin and stretched in unnatural ways, arms hanging lower than they should, fingers long and uneven like they had been pulled apart, and its face… Kwame couldn’t fully see it, not because it was hidden, but because his mind refused to understand what he was looking at. His entire body locked in place, fear freezing him as his brain struggled to process the fact that it was real, that it wasn’t just in his phone or his imagination anymore. The thing tilted its head slowly, the movement unnatural and deliberate, exactly like Ama had done earlier, and that realization sent a sharp wave of panic through him. His phone lit up beside him without him touching it, the screen glowing in the darkness as a message appeared—Now you see me. Kwame’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came out, his voice completely gone as the thing took a step forward. There was no sound when it moved, no footsteps, no shift in the air, but the floor beneath it seemed to dip slightly, as if something heavy was pressing down on it, confirming what his mind didn’t want to accept—it wasn’t just a shadow, it had weight, presence, existence. Another step. Closer. Kwame’s body trembled as he tried to move, tried to push himself back, but his muscles refused to respond, trapped in fear as the thing leaned forward slightly, its head tilting again before its mouth slowly stretched into something that resembled a smile, though it was far too wide, far too unnatural, extending beyond what any human face should allow. Inside, there were shapes that looked like teeth, but not quite right, uneven and dark, shifting slightly as if they weren’t solid. Then it spoke. Not from its mouth, but from everywhere at once, the sound crawling through the room, through the walls, through his head. “You’re… too… slow…” Kwame finally broke, a scream tearing out of him as the lights suddenly flashed on, flooding the room with brightness so sudden it hurt his eyes. He shot upright, gasping for air, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked around in panic, but the room was empty. Completely empty. No shadow. No figure. Nothing in the corner. Just his room, exactly as it should be. Sweat covered his body as he shook his head repeatedly, whispering to himself that it wasn’t real, that it couldn’t be real, but deep down he knew better, because it had felt real in a way nothing else ever had. His phone buzzed again, drawing his attention back down as he slowly picked it up, his hands still shaking, and read the message on the screen—Tomorrow matters. Kwame stared at those words, his mind racing as a new fear settled in, heavier than anything before, because now he understood something he hadn’t fully accepted until this moment… whatever was messaging him wasn’t just predicting things anymore, and it wasn’t just appearing for no reason—it was getting closer, stronger, more real, and whatever was going to happen next… he wouldn’t be able to ignore it.