EPISODE 3:
The house was quiet, but not safe. Every corner seemed heavier, every shadow stretched too far. Ava and Noah sat on the floor of his room, backs against the wall, the notebook between them.
The clock read 1:43 AM.
Ava
4 minutes.
Noah, I can’t—my chest feels like it’s closing.
Noah
Don’t look at the clock.
Noah
Then look at me instead.
Ava forced herself to meet his eyes. He looked exhausted, but steady—like he had rehearsed this a thousand times before. Maybe he had.
The clock ticked louder.
1:44.
Her phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN
3 minutes. Smile for me, Ava.
Ava
I wasn’t going to.
Noah, what if—
Noah
Don’t finish that sentence.
Her throat was dry, her fingers trembling against the notebook’s cover. She flipped it open without thinking, scanning the last few lines Noah had written:
“At 1:47, everything changes. Time bends. Hours disappear. The shadow chooses.”
Her heart dropped.
1:45.
Ava
Noah… what if it chooses me?
Ava
You can’t fight a shadow!
Noah
Maybe not.
But maybe I can distract it.
The words made her blood run cold. Distract it? Did he mean… sacrifice himself?
Before she could answer, her phone lit up again.
UNKNOWN
2 minutes. Don’t blink.
Noah
we’re together in this.
The lamp in the corner flickered once. Twice. Then went out.
1:46.
The room plunged into a suffocating dark, broken only by the cold glow of their phone screens.
A sound crept through the air. Not footsteps, not breathing—something worse. A scraping, like nails dragging across glass, circling the room.
Ava froze.
Noah
Don’t move.
Don’t breathe too loud.
The air grew heavier, colder, pressing against their chests. Ava’s vision blurred at the edges. Her phone slipped in her sweaty grip, nearly falling.
And then—
1:47.
The scraping stopped.
A shadow uncoiled itself from the corner, taller than the ceiling, darker than the night. Its head tilted, as though curious.
A voice—soft, crawling, inside their heads—spoke without sound.
Noah
Ava—look down! Don’t make eye contact!
She squeezed her eyes shut, tears spilling. Her whole body shook as the air around them turned ice-cold. She couldn’t feel her fingers, her toes.
The shadow moved. Closer.
Her phone vibrated violently in her lap.
UNKNOWN
Hours are mine now.
Her chest heaved. The sound around her distorted—like water rushing into her ears.
The world tilted.
Spun.
Stopped.
And then—nothing.
Dark.
When Ava’s eyes fluttered open, morning sunlight spilled across Noah’s floor. Birds chirped outside, like nothing had happened.
The clock read 8:12 AM.
Her phone was on her chest. New messages filled the group chat.
UNKNOWN
You slept well, didn’t you?
UNKNOWN
Hours vanish. But yours… yours are precious.
UNKNOWN
Don’t forget: next time, one of you will vanish
Ava
Noah…
Do you remember anything?
Noah
No.
Just—darkness.
Then morning.
Noah
Or it means it’s just playing with us.
Ava clutched the notebook against her chest, her eyes on the word scrawled over and over again.
Smile.
The shadow hadn’t taken her. Not yet.
But it would come back.
It always came back.
And next time… someone might not escape.
Comments