Welcome, Lovely Readers!

I know it's been a while since my last update, but I'm excited to announce that the remaining chapters of "The Contracted" will be posted soon. Be sure to check back daily as we approach the thrilling climax—it’s going to be worth the wait, so stay tuned!

Now, let me introduce you to my latest project, "The Nightfall Chronicles." This anthology of short, eerie stories is crafted to keep you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. Each tale is shrouded in mystery with unfinished and unsettling endings that will linger long after you've turned the final page. If you revel in spine-chilling narratives and enigmatic conclusions, this book is tailor-made for you. Dive in, if you dare, and let the chilling tales begin!

...Eliza's P.O.V...

It was one of those ordinary afternoons where the sky was a crisp blue, and the school's chatter felt like background noise to my daydreams. Although the weather outside the window seemed splendid, I felt an overwhelming sense of melancholy. It was as if a veil of despondence had clouded my vision, casting everything in dismal, muted hue, and nothing seemed quite right.

I'm not typically one to be superstitious, but this unsettling feeling brings to mind something my late grandfather always believed: when something bad is about to happen, the world around you finds subtle ways to warn you. Could this be an ominous warning that something bad is on the horizon? Yet, I'm not a superstitious person, so it must be nothing more than an ordinary day. Surely, I'm just imagining things, letting my mind play tricks on me!

The bell rang, signalling the start of recess, mercifully ending my history teacher's monotonous lecture as she left us with a final blow - the announcement of an upcoming research paper. The classroom, already buzzing with quite grumbles, erupted into groans of frustration. But despite the collective annoyance, I couldn't shake off the uneasy knot forming in my stomach.

As the teacher departed, Tia, my best friend, approached my desk, jolting me out of my gloomy reverie. With her striking ivory eyes and golden blonde hair, she looked at me and said, "You seem totally lost, Eli. I suggest we take a stroll to the cafeteria and see if something delicious catches your eye. It might lift your spirits." It felt as though she could see right through me, reading my thoughts with uncanny precision. After all, there's a reason we're best friends!

Eager to escape my unsettling thoughts, I readily accepted her offer. Tia and I made our way to the cafeteria, where I spotted a stack of strawberry juice being sold at the counter. I had been waiting forever for this drink to return, and it was here again - truly the only strawberry juice on Earth that tastes like pure bliss. Perhaps today isn't so bad after all. Finally getting my hands on this coveted treat felt like a small victory, reminding me that sometimes, even on the gloomiest days, a little joy can be found.

Later that day, I was at home, sitting like a couch potato, scrolling through Gram and commenting to myself on people's absurd posts, which showcased their typical Gen Z cringe. As I flicked through stories, I stumbled upon the suggestions page and discovered an account named Grimshaw Guy. Its old-fashioned vibe caught my curiosity, so I opened the profile. The name was Nathaniel, so that made him Nathaniel Grimshaw, right? What struck me as particularly odd was his bio: instead of Born on 7th October, it read, Died on 7th October. It creeped me out a bit. "Who puts Died on for their birthday? Isn't that a bad omen? Or maybe it's just another attempt by Gen Z to stand out! Honestly, how much more can they push their boundaries?" I thought to myself as I skipped his page and rolled my eyes.

"Eliza, it's time for bed! You have school tomorrow, remember?" my mom called from the hallway. "Okay, mom. Good night!" I replied, setting my phone on the table beside the bed and pulling back the covers. Moments later, she entered the room, leaned in to kiss me, and whispered a soft Goodnight with a warm smile before turning off the lights and quietly closing the door behind her.

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...Hey, it's your author here. Kindly comment your thoughts on the episode, and let me know if you've found anything strange or any other errors. I'm open to constructive criticism, so I don't mind if you spot out my errors....

...Thanks for choosing to read the story!...

The next morning at school, I was a complete contrast to the day before - cheerful and full of energy, back to my usual self. I was chatting non-stop with Tia and a few other girls in class, my endless rambling nearly making their ears bleed from all the talking.

Moments later, our homeroom teacher entered the classroom, and the chatter died down instantly as all of us returned to our desks. I felt my interest slipping away as the teacher droned on about Algebra and its real-world applications. The entire lecture became a blur, and I found myself gazing out the window, admiring the weather instead. I've never been the type to pay attention in class, yet I still manage to score above average on every test. Maybe that's why most teachers never seem to mind my lack of focus, though a few probably resent me for it. For example, this one.

"Eliza!" my homeroom teacher, AKA, my math teacher, yelled, snapping me out of my daydreams. I jolted upright in my seat, startled, and quickly responded, "Yes, Miss Ava?" "What are you staring at? Is the view outside more entertaining than my lesson?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm, as if daring me to claim that Algebra was more captivating than an episode of Stranger Things!

"I need you to get out of my class, this instant!" she bellowed, her voice echoing through the room. I felt the heat rise to my face as 49 pairs of eyes turned toward me, the weight of their stares adding to my embarrassment. They'd probably forget this ever happened by the time they spoke to me again, but in that moment, it was mortifying!

I lowered my head in embarrassment, walked to the front of the room, and whispered an apology to Miss Ava, who glared at me with her piercing black eyes. Her stare was infuriating, but I quickly left the room, still feeling mortified by the public scolding.

Despite the humiliation, standing in the hallway felt like a blessing compared to enduring another 20 minutes of her dull lecture. I leaned against the wall, hands behind my back, shifting my weight from foot to foot as the muffled sound of Miss Ava's voice continued from the classroom.

"Hey!" a voice called out from my left, snapping me out of my thoughts.

...----------------...

The next hour was a complete disaster. Miss Ava summoned me to the teachers' office, where she unleashed a 30-minute rant about the importance of paying attention in class. She went on about how it's a matter of respect for the teacher standing at the front, shouting like a dinosaur, to help us grasp the material. I get her point, but still - just because I'm not focused doesn't mean I'm being disrespectful.

I felt completely drained after Miss Ava's lecture, my energy sapped from enduring her endless scolding. As I made my way back to class, surprisingly, all I could think about was the guy who called out to me in the hallway earlier - despite having just received an earful moments before. Something about that brief encounter lingered in my mind.