It was a quiet evening in late autumn. The wind outside whispered through the trees, and the soft rustling of leaves against the windowsill was the only sound that accompanied me as I curled up with a book. The gentle glow from the fireplace cast a warm ambiance throughout the room, and I was lost in the peaceful solitude of my home.
Then, the knock came. It was sharp, unsettling in its precision. I froze, the book in my lap forgotten as I listened, unsure if I had heard it correctly. My house was isolated—sitting at the end of a long dirt road, far from the bustle of town. Visitors were a rare occurrence, especially on a night like this.
Another knock, this time louder.
I pushed myself off the couch and made my way toward the door. My mind raced. Was it someone I knew? A neighbor? But the nearest neighbor was miles away, and I hadn’t expected anyone. I hesitated for a moment, my hand resting on the cool brass doorknob. Something in my gut told me it wasn’t good to open the door, but the strange sense of curiosity overpowered my caution.
I turned the knob.
The door swung open to reveal a man standing on the porch. He was tall, wearing a dark, weathered coat, and his face was shadowed by the brim of his wide-brimmed hat. His eyes, though, were piercing. He had an air of quiet intensity about him.
“Good evening,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
I blinked, taken aback by his presence. “Can I help you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glanced over his shoulder, as though ensuring no one was watching, before turning his gaze back to me. “I’m looking for someone,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes searching. “I was told I might find them here.”
My heart skipped a beat. The statement caught me off guard. “Who are you looking for?”
He didn’t answer right away. His gaze flickered over my face, as if weighing something in his mind. Then he spoke, but his words didn’t offer much clarity. “A person who’s been hiding. I’ve been following their trail, and it led me here.”
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I wasn’t sure if I should feel frightened or intrigued. “I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place,” I said, a nervous edge creeping into my voice. “I don’t know anyone like that.”
The stranger didn’t move. He stood there, unblinking, his expression unreadable. Then, in one swift motion, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. “This,” he said, holding it out toward me, “is what I’ve been given. I believe it belongs to you.”
I hesitated, unsure if I should take the paper. The last thing I wanted was to get involved in whatever strange business this man was speaking of. But there was something compelling about his presence, something that made it hard to turn away.
Reluctantly, I took the paper from his hand. Unfolding it, I read the single sentence scrawled across it:
"They are closer than you think."
My breath caught in my throat. The words sent a chill through me, and for the first time since the man had appeared, I felt a sense of urgency, like a thread was being pulled tight around my chest.
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to remain calm.
The man didn’t answer directly. Instead, he stepped back, his eyes scanning the house, the darkness of the night creeping in around us. “I’m someone who’s trying to make sure you’re safe,” he said quietly. “And I’m afraid that safety is about to be tested.”
Before I could respond, a movement caught my eye—a shadow shifting in the corner of the yard, barely visible in the dim light. I glanced toward it, but when I looked back, the stranger was gone.
I stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what had just transpired. My hand gripped the paper tightly as I backed into the house, my heart racing.
The door clicked shut behind me, and the silence returned, only this time it was thick with tension. I leaned against the door, staring at the paper in my hand, wondering what kind of game I had just been pulled into.
There was no turning back now. Something had changed. Something was coming for me, and I had no idea what it was, or why I was suddenly the target.
I glanced out the window, the shadow still lingering in the corner of the yard. But the night was eerily quiet again, as if the world had gone still, waiting.
I didn’t know what to do next. Should I call the police? Should I try to leave? But that man had said something that echoed in my mind: "They are closer than you think."
I looked back at the paper, my fingers trembling as I crumpled it in my hand. Whoever had sent it, and whoever the stranger had been, was right.
They were closer than I thought.
And I was already too deep in to run.
React
