THE MEMORY RESET

*Chapter One: The Warning* The doorbell rang. Once. Twice. Then silence. I blinked, glancing up from the book I wasn’t really reading. It was nearly 9 PM, and I wasn’t expecting anyone. The streets had been quiet all day — too quiet. A strange stillness had settled over the neighborhood since morning, like even the air was holding its breath. I walked to the door cautiously, my bare feet barely making a sound on the tiled floor. My fingers hesitated on the handle. Then, slowly, I opened the door. No one. The porch light flickered above me. The breeze was light, but it carried a coldness that made my arms prickle. I stepped out slightly, leaning over the railing and looking left, right — nothing. Not even the sound of crickets. That silence again. But then, I noticed it. Sticking slightly out of the mailbox — a *black envelope*. Strange. No name. No stamp. No return address. Just a cold, matte-black surface, sealed perfectly. I pulled it out slowly. The paper felt heavier than normal. Almost… wrong. Like it didn’t belong here. My heart beat faster as I opened it. Inside was a single piece of folded paper. Plain. Clean. And typed neatly in the center: **“At midnight tonight, your memory resets. Hide this letter. Trust no one. – From… you.”** My breath caught. From me? I read it again. Then again. My fingers tightened around the paper as I glanced around nervously. It was a prank. It had to be. Some twisted joke. But it didn’t feel like one. I stepped back inside and locked the door. Double-locked it. Back in my room, I sat on the bed, the note still in my hand. My fingers were trembling slightly. I stared at it for what felt like hours, trying to make sense of it. "Midnight." What happens at midnight? My eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. *11:42 PM.* I hadn’t even realized so much time had passed. My stomach twisted. I tried to shake the feeling off. It was just a note. Just paper. Nothing more. But the room suddenly felt colder. My thoughts wouldn't slow down. Then— *My phone rang.* I jumped. The caller ID read: *“ME.”* I stared at the screen in disbelief. Was this some new phone scam? My hand hovered over the screen. Should I answer? I did. “Hello?” I said cautiously. There was silence at first. Then— A voice. *My voice.* "You don’t have much time," it whispered. "Check under your bed. Hurry. "Before I could respond, the call ended. I froze. Was I dreaming? Was this some weird mental breakdown? But curiosity — and fear — drove me to move. I dropped to my knees and looked under the bed. At first, I saw nothing but dust and shadows. But then, in the far corner, something glinted. I reached out and pulled it toward me. A *flash drive*. No label. Just black and silver. My fingers felt numb as I plugged it into my laptop and waited. It loaded instantly. Only one file. *“PLAY-ME-BEFORE-MIDNIGHT.”* I clicked it. The screen went black for a second, then lit up. A video started to play. *It was me.* Same face. Same clothes. Same room. But in the video, I looked… terrified. I was crying. My voice was shaking. “If you’re watching this,” the video version of me said, “they found me. And they’ll find you too.” I froze, staring at the screen. My heart was pounding so hard, I could barely hear anything else. “They wiped your memory before. But you left this clue. You wanted to remember. You knew it would be dangerous. But you needed the truth.” The person — no, *I* — leaned closer to the camera. “There’s a red book on your shelf. Don’t open it unless you’re ready to remember everything.” The video cut off.I sat frozen for a moment. Then slowly turned my head toward the shelf. There it was. A red book. I had never seen it before. I was sure of it. I stood, slowly walking toward it. My hands were cold, my breath shallow. I reached out— The lights in my room *flickered*. A soft whisper brushed past my ear. “You’re not supposed to find that.” I spun around. No one. My chest rose and fell rapidly. “Hello?” I called out, my voice shaky. “Who’s there?” Nothing. Just silence. I turned back to the shelf. *The red book was gone.* My stomach dropped. In its place, a folded piece of paper. I picked it up with trembling hands. It read: *“To remember is to risk everything.”* What did that mean? Why was I warning myself? And what was I trying to remember? I backed away, note in hand, and sat heavily on the bed, staring blankly into space. Then— *My laptop screen flickered.* A message typed itself out in real time. *“It’s already begun. You just don’t remember.”* I slammed the laptop shut. My heart was racing now. I could hear the blood in my ears. I grabbed my phone instinctively, needing some kind of connection to reality. *A message popped up.* No number. No contact name. Just a line of text. *“You opened the wrong door.”* I stared at it, hands shaking.Suddenly—*the lights went out*. Total darkness. “Oh no…” I stood up quickly, fumbling for my phone. It buzzed again. *A photo.* Of me. Sleeping. But I was awake. And the photo was taken *just now.* I turned my phone’s flashlight on and scanned the room in every direction. Nothing. I looked at the photo again. Zoomed in. In the dark corner of the image… *A figure was standing behind me.* I turned around, heart in my throat. No one. Then— A whisper. Close. “You weren’t supposed to wake up.” I dropped the phone. And screamed. BELLAR-NNEJI MARYCLARICE CHIKA.