Chapter 1: The Deadly Game Begins
The faint patter of rain against my window mixed with the cold, greasy taste of leftover pizza in my mouth. I was sprawled on my bed, half-watching YouTube with the volume low, when my phone buzzed, jolting me out of my daze.
A chill crept up my spine as the screen lit up with a message from an unknown number:
'Okay, which one’s fake? 1. Power’s going out. 2. It’s gonna rain. 3. Earthquake.'
April Fool’s. Someone was trying way too hard. I rolled my eyes and shot back, '1.'
I smirked, thinking it was just some bored kid from school, maybe even Derek up to his usual antics. I didn’t even hesitate, my answer flying off without a second thought.
But barely two seconds after I hit send, every light in my room flickered out. My heart did a somersault. I sat up, the hair on my arms standing straight up. This wasn’t funny anymore.
Sudden darkness swallowed the room, the air feeling sucked out of my lungs. My phone’s blue glow was the only thing left. The ceiling fan stilled, its gentle hum replaced by a heavy, unnatural silence. My heart thudded in my chest.
I glanced out the window. The streetlights outside still glowed. Only my house was blacked out.
I squinted through the curtains at the neighbor’s porch, their lamp shining a soft yellow. The Wilsons’ dog barked at some shadow. Just my place, cut off and shrouded in darkness. It made me feel tiny, isolated from the world.
My phone buzzed again. Another text from the unknown number:
'Okay, which one’s fake? 1. Your mom will die. 2. Your best friend will die. 3. You yourself will die.'
My phone nearly slipped from my hand as I jolted upright, terror spiking through me.
A cold, icy dread prickled down my arms. Was this some twisted prank? The first text had come true—the lights had actually gone out. My stomach twisted with a sick realization.
Just now, I’d picked 'Power’s going out,' and it really had. The timing was too perfect. My hands grew clammy.
That meant whatever answer I picked would actually happen.
My mind spun, scrambling for explanations. April Fool’s or not, this was way beyond a joke. I stared at my phone, barely breathing.
But this new question was a nightmare.
All three options meant someone would die.
But I couldn’t let myself die. And I couldn’t let my mom die either…
I squeezed my eyes shut, heartbeat pounding in my ears. I pictured my mom, bustling in the kitchen, nagging about my grades. I couldn’t imagine a world without her. But me—I didn’t want to die, obviously.
I remembered Derek letting me copy his homework last week, laughing when I panicked about failing math. Could I really pick him?
So…
I could only pick 2.
My finger hovered over the screen, the choice feeling like betrayal. I tried to convince myself none of this was real. Derek—always joking, always alive, the guy who made me laugh even when I was at my worst. But what choice did I have?
Besides, answering a text couldn’t actually kill someone… could it?
It all seemed absurd. Text messages that decided fate? It had to be a coincidence, or maybe some elaborate prank with smart home gadgets. Derek would be the first to laugh if I confronted him tomorrow.
I even tried to tell myself the power outage was just a fluke.
I thought about the old wiring in our house. Stuff like this happened before, right? Maybe my brain was just getting worked up from being alone in the dark.
So, after a few seconds’ hesitation, I sent my answer.
My thumb hovered, then pressed send. My breath caught in my throat.
Right then, my phone flashed with a weird blue-green glow.
For a moment, the colors on the screen swirled and warped, like an old tube TV on the fritz. The phone buzzed, then everything snapped back to normal. My heart hammered even harder.
I sat there, staring at the phone, unsure if I’d imagined it. Silence pressed in, thick and heavy, my shaky breaths the only sound.
Then the worry hit me.
Would my best friend really die?
My mind ran through every horror movie I’d ever seen, all the times people ignored the warning signs. Was this one of those moments? I started biting my thumbnail—a nervous habit I hadn’t had since middle school.
He was my childhood buddy, Derek. We’d grown up on the same block, now classmates at the same high school.
I could picture him: tall, always in a hoodie, joking with the lunch lady, always pulling pranks. We played basketball at the cracked court two blocks over, got in trouble together, shared secrets over greasy takeout fries. He was more like a brother than a friend.
It was just past midnight, but I figured Derek was still up—he was always gaming late. If I called now, he wouldn’t care.
I FaceTimed Derek. We did this all the time.
As the call rang, I glanced around my darkened room, trying to steady my breathing. I needed to see his face, to make sure everything was okay.
Luckily, he picked up right away. His room was lit with blue LED strips, posters of bands peeling from the walls. I heard the click of his headset being tossed aside.
Before he appeared, I remembered his last prank—swapping our sodas for hot sauce at lunch. Derek lived for this stuff, always trying to get a laugh. That made the stakes feel even higher.
But as soon as his video came up, I froze—
Derek’s eyes were wide, his face twitching, lips trembling uncontrollably.
He looked nothing like himself. His skin was pale, sweat dotting his temples. He shuddered, mouth working as if he wanted to scream but couldn’t. The sight was so wrong, it made my breath catch.
'Dude, there’s some freaky lady in here—long hair, total horror movie vibes. Get me out!' he gasped, voice cracking with fake terror.
I was so scared I couldn’t speak, paralyzed by the screen.
My jaw clenched. Was this for real? Was someone in his room?
But then he burst out laughing—'Hahaha!'
His whole vibe flipped. He flopped onto his bed, grinning like he’d just pulled off the ultimate prank. His eyes sparkled with mischief.
He relaxed, voice lazy: 'Calling me this late, what do you want?'
My heart pounded for nothing. This was classic Derek—dramatics worthy of an Oscar.
That’s when it hit me—
He was lying, pulling an April Fool’s prank.
Of course. He was the king of pranks, and this was his night. I wanted to be mad, but mostly I was relieved.
His acting was just too good.
He’d always had a knack for it—crying on cue, stealing the spotlight in the school play. I remembered the time he convinced our sub he was allergic to chalk just for a laugh.
'You… you scared me half to death!' I let out a shaky breath, trying to scold him. 'Are you nuts, doing this in the middle of the night?'
My voice wobbled, relief and anger tangled up. I tried to sound annoyed, but really I was just grateful he was okay.
He waved me off. 'You know it’s late, and it’s April Fool’s Day. So, what’s up?'
He raised an eyebrow, smirking. Typical Derek.
I knew he’d never believe me about the weird texts.
How would that even sound? 'Hey, I got these haunted messages and you might die?' He’d just think I was pranking him.
So I made up an excuse: 'Nothing, just wanted to see if you wanted to grab some late-night pizza.'
It was a lame but believable cover. Pizza was our go-to, and there was always a 24-hour spot with slices as big as your face.
He grumbled, 'You think I’d fall for that? You just want to get me outside and leave me standing in the cold? That’s why I pranked you first!'
He tugged his hoodie strings tight, pretending to shiver, shooting me a mock glare. I could almost smell his cheap cologne, feel our old camaraderie like a warm blanket.
I was about to end the call, since I’d confirmed he was safe.
Relief settled over me. My hand hovered over the red End button, ready to say goodnight and try to forget the weirdness.
'Alright, if you don’t want to eat, then let’s just—'
But then I froze.
My voice cut off as something in his video feed caught my eye. A shadow. Movement that didn’t belong.
Because on the balcony behind Derek—
A blurry figure stood there.
The outline was faint, but human—unmoving, hair falling forward. My heart leaped into my throat.
I asked, trying to sound casual, 'Is someone else at your place? There’s someone on your balcony.'
My voice was high and tight, hoping it was just his sister or a coat, anything but what I thought I saw.
He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder, brow furrowing. For a split second, he actually looked scared.
But only for a moment.
Then he laughed again: 'Trying to scare me? I’m not falling for that!'
He spun his phone to show the empty hallway—just textbooks and a dying houseplant.
He really was home alone. His mom was working late, his dad out of town. No one else was supposed to be there.
I pressed, 'Turn around and look! There really is someone, and…'
I stared at the background, dumbfounded. Every muscle in my body was tense. The figure shimmered, stepping closer to the window glass.
'And that figure is getting closer… It’s a woman, with long hair.'
My voice barely made it out. I could see strands of hair hanging like a curtain, the faint outline of a dress.
Derek just laughed harder: 'Your acting isn’t as good as mine. My performance just now was real surprise, real fear. What was that you just did? Hahaha…'
He wiped away a fake tear, clutching his chest like he’d heard the best joke of the year. My warning just made him more smug.
I broke out in goosebumps.
My skin prickled, the air in my room suddenly freezing. I glanced over my shoulder, every shadow now menacing. My mind raced.
For a moment, I didn’t know how to make him believe me.
I thought about screenshotting the video, sending it to him, anything. But the figure kept moving, and I was paralyzed.
But more importantly, I was genuinely terrified.
This was no prank anymore. The fear was real, sharp as a blade. I swallowed, wishing my mom was home, wishing I could wake up and have this all be a bad dream.
Because as she got closer, I could see more clearly…
Her movements were unnatural, jerky, like every step took effort. My breath caught. The phone shook in my hand.
Her hair was loose, covering her face, showing only half a rotting cheek.
The strands clung to her skin like spiderwebs, and something squirmed in her hair—tiny, pale worms. I pressed a fist to my mouth, fighting the urge to gag.
That half-rotted face—both cheeks sunken, lips cracked and curled, black and yellow teeth exposed—
It was a nightmare, the kind whispered about at sleepovers.
With dried blood caked between them.
The blood was nearly brown, crusted along her gums. I couldn’t look away. Terror rooted me in place.
Before I could react, she seemed to perform a magic trick and lunged at Derek.
She moved faster than humanly possible, her image blurring. I screamed—my voice echoing in the empty house.
Yes, several feet away, but she ignored the distance and pounced right onto Derek. There was no sound, just her shadow covering his, the video flickering with static.
In that instant, our FaceTime call went completely black…
My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the phone. I thought about calling 911 but couldn’t remember how to breathe, let alone dial.
My lips trembled. I couldn’t get a word out. The silence was deafening. My mind went blank, the image of Derek’s face—then hers—burned into my memory. I felt like I was falling.
That was a ghost. A real ghost.
I was truly scared out of my mind. I wanted to scream for help, but I was alone. I pressed my back against the wall, gripping my phone like a lifeline.
Before I could even think, my phone vibrated again—loud in the quiet. I hesitated, afraid of what I’d see. My thumb hovered over the notification, breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.
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