A Shadow at the Window
267 Words
That night, Marisol lay in bed with the red notebook beside her, the cipher wheel under her pillow like a talisman. She kept replaying the warnings in her mind, each one sharper than the last.
Not safe after dusk.
If she finds this—run.
Do not trust the watcher.
The house creaked as it cooled. The refrigerator hummed. A car passed outside, headlights sweeping across her ceiling.
She tried to sleep.
She couldn’t.
A soft tap hit her window.
She froze.
Another tap.
Light. Precise.
Like a fingernail.
She sat up slowly, heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.
Tap.
She forced herself to stand. Her legs felt like they belonged to someone else. She crossed the room and pulled the curtain back.
A figure stood across the street.
Not moving.
Not shifting weight.
Just watching.
The streetlamp flickered above them, casting their silhouette in a stuttering halo of light. She couldn’t see a face. Couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. Couldn’t tell if they were even human.
Her breath fogged the glass.
The figure tilted its head.
Marisol stumbled back from the window, hand clamped over her mouth to keep from screaming.
A car turned the corner, headlights sweeping across the street.
The figure vanished.
Not walked away.
Not ran.
Vanished.
She backed up until her legs hit the bed. She climbed onto it and pulled her knees to her chest, shaking.
Someone knew she had opened the archive.
Someone was watching.
And her mother’s warnings were no longer just ink on a page.
They were real.
- Writer
