A Cryptic Message
870 Words
Zara stared at the message, her pulse pounding in her ears. The words glowed on the screen like an accusation, pulling her breath short.
Her fingers trembled as she hovered over the keyboard. She didn’t recognize the number, but something about the message felt deeply personal - too personal.
Who is this? she typed and hit send before she could second-guess herself.
She waited, the seconds stretching into an eternity. Nothing.
Her eyes flicked to the clock. 3:20 p.m. The silence was maddening. She almost convinced herself it was a prank when her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: Someone who understands what you’re going through. Someone who knows you’re not crazy.
Her breath hitched. She hadn’t told anyone outside of Dr. Peters about the visions. Not even her mother or Micah.
Her heart thudded in her chest as she typed: How do you know about me? What do you mean, “gift”?
The reply came almost instantly.
Unknown Number: You’ve seen things, haven’t you? Events that happen before they happen. You’re not alone, Zara. There are others like us.
She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. Others? Her thoughts raced. She wanted to dismiss it as a coincidence, some scam, but the messages felt too direct, too specific.
Prove it, she typed.
The response chilled her to the bone.
Unknown Number: The crash wasn’t your first vision. Remember the fire?
Zara’s stomach twisted. She dropped the phone, her hands clenching into fists.
The fire.
Her mind dragged her back to that night six months ago. She’d been walking home from the grocery store when the vision hit her like a freight train - a blaze consuming an apartment building, people screaming for help, the acrid smell of smoke filling her lungs.
She’d quickly snapped back to reality, standing frozen in the middle of the sidewalk. Hours later, she’d seen the news: an apartment fire across town, eerily identical to what she’d seen.
She hadn’t told a soul.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: Meet me tomorrow. Noon. The fountain at Regal Square.
Zara stared at the message, her pulse roaring in her ears. She should ignore it, delete the texts, and block the number. But a part of her - the part that still clung to the possibility that she wasn’t losing her mind - kept her rooted to the spot.
Her hand hovered over the phone as she debated what to do. Finally, she typed: How do I know I can trust you?
The reply came quickly.
Unknown Number: You don’t. But if you want answers, you’ll come.
The Next Morning
Zara sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the journal in her lap. Her entry from the night before ended with a single question:
Do I go?
She hadn’t slept. She’d spent the night pacing, replaying the cryptic messages in her mind. Her rational side screamed that it was dangerous, that meeting a stranger who somehow knew her secrets was a terrible idea.
But the pull was undeniable.
She dressed quickly, throwing on jeans and a coat, and grabbed her bag. As she walked to Regal Square, the city buzzed around her with the usual morning rush. Commuters hurried to work, coffee cups in hand, their faces blank with routine.
When she reached the fountain, she paused, scanning the crowd. The square was bustling, the cold winter air sharp against her cheeks.
“Zara Bennett.”
The voice came from behind her.
She turned, her heart leaping into her throat.
A man stood there, mid-thirties, tall and lean with piercing gray eyes. He wore a black coat, his hands tucked into the pockets, and an air of calm confidence that sent shivers down her spine.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “My name is Elias. I’ve been watching you, Zara. You have a gift, and it’s time you learned to use it.”
The world seemed to tilt beneath her feet. “What are you talking about? What do you know about me?”
Elias gave her a small, knowing smile. “More than you realize. You’ve been having visions - premonitions of events before they happen. I’m here to help you understand why.”
Zara shook her head, backing away. “This is insane. You’re insane. I shouldn’t have come.”
“You can leave,” Elias said calmly. “But the visions won’t stop. They’ll get stronger, more frequent. And if you don’t learn to control them, they’ll consume you.”
Her breath caught. “Control them? You mean I can stop them?”
“Not stop,” Elias corrected. “Focus. Direct. Your gift is rare, Zara. But it’s also dangerous if left unchecked.”
She stared at him, the skepticism warring with the desperate hope inside her. “Why should I trust you?”
Elias held her gaze, his voice low and firm. “Because I’ve been where you are. And because I know what’s coming.”
“What’s coming?” she whispered.
His expression darkened. “Something bigger than either of us. And if you don’t learn to harness your gift, you won’t survive it.”
- Writer
