Chapter 1: The Game
398 Words
“Ready or not… here I come.”
The voice echoed through the quiet village, breaking the stillness of a lazy summer afternoon. The air was heavy with heat, the kind that made everything feel slow and distant.
There were six of us when the game started.
We gathered near the old banyan tree at the edge of the village—the place adults always warned us to stay away from. They said strange things had happened there long ago. But warnings meant nothing when you were young, bored, and desperate for something to do.
“Count to twenty and don’t peek!” Linh shouted, already running off with a laugh.
The others followed, their footsteps fading quickly into the tall grass and narrow paths between old houses.
I leaned against the rough bark of the tree and covered my eyes.
“One… two… three…”
Their laughter echoed around me, mixed with the rustling of leaves and the sound of hurried footsteps. Someone nearly slipped and cursed under their breath. Another whispered, “Hide here!” before everything slowly faded away.
“…sixteen… seventeen… eighteen…”
The village grew quieter.
“…nineteen… twenty.”
I opened my eyes.
Silence.
Not the normal kind—the kind where you could still hear someone trying to hold their breath or stifle a laugh.
This was different.
Heavy.
Still.
Unnatural.
“Guys?” I called out, forcing a small laugh.
No answer.
I stepped away from the tree, my heartbeat suddenly louder than it should be. The shadows seemed longer now, stretching across the ground like they didn’t belong to anything.
“They’re just messing with me,” I muttered.
I looked down.
Footprints marked the dirt path in front of me—fresh, clear, easy to follow.
One set. Two. Three.
I counted slowly.
Four.
Five.
Six.
I froze.
There was another set.
Seven.
My throat went dry.
That didn’t make sense.
There were only six of us.
I was the one counting.
A cold feeling crept up my spine.
Then I noticed something worse.
The seventh set of footprints…
didn’t look like ours.
They were longer.
Deeper.
And slightly… wrong.
Like something had tried to copy the way we walked—but failed.
A soft sound came from behind me.
A whisper.
Faint.
Almost playful.
“Found you.”
My body went cold.
Because the voice…
was mine.
- Writer
