The Note
Chapter 1 The Start
James had never been good at being alone. His parents were off on a weekend trip to visit him in another city, which was supposed to be a rare moment of peace—no homework, no socializing, just quiet.
The first night was easy. He made some popcorn, settled in, and watched some movies. He didn’t think much about the house being quiet, except for the occasional creaks of the old floorboards. He’d texted his friends a few times, told them he was just chilling at home, and turned in for the night early, knowing he’d have the whole place to himself for another few days.
The next morning, he woke up to something unexpected. A note…
It was lying on the porch when he stepped outside to grab the newspaper. At first, he thought it was a mistake maybe a lost flyer or something that had blown over from the neighbor’s yard. But then he saw the handwriting. The dark, looping script didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen before,
“I’ve been watching you. I know when you’re alone. Don’t be afraid. I’m closer than you think.”
His heart skipped a beat. He stood there, frozen on the front step, holding the note, His mind racing with confusion. Who would leave something like this? Was it a joke? Maybe a prank from one of his friends though, none of them would be this weird. His eyes darted across the quiet street. The houses around him sat in calm, perfect order, with no one in sight.
He told himself it was nothing. A joke, a wrong delivery. He crumpled the note in his hand and went back inside, locking the door behind him.
But even as he tried to brush it off, a creeping unease gnawed at him. He spent the day trying to distract himself. He cleaned the kitchen, flipped through a book, and watched an episode of his favorite show. But now and then, his eyes would drift to the windows, his mind replaying that message over and over.
By the evening, he was starting to feel stupid for even thinking there was anything to be afraid of. Still, the feeling of being watched wouldn’t leave him.
Later that night, around 10 p.m., the doorbell rang.
James’s heart jumped into his throat. He hadn’t expected anyone. He wasn’t expecting visitors; his friends weren’t supposed to drop by, and his parents wouldn’t be back for another day.
He hesitated for a moment before standing up to answer. But when he opened the door, no one was there.
Then he let out a gasp a bone covered in blood dripping slowly, drip, drip, drip, sitting on the porch.
No note this time. Just the bone, the dripping blood glowing faintly in the porch light.
His stomach twisted. This couldn’t be happening. He bent down to pick it up, glancing around the yard. Nothing. No footprints, no sign of anyone nearby.
James stepped back inside and slammed the door shut. He locked it, then checked the back door. Every window. The feeling of being watched was sharper now, more real. Someone was out there. Someone knew he was alone.
His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
He picked it up, hands trembling slightly as he unlocked it. The screen displayed a text from an unknown number,
“I see you.”
James’ breath caught in his throat. His fingers hovered over the screen, the chill of the phone suddenly seeping into his skin. He stared at the text, his mind racing. Who is this?
He quickly looked around the room again. His heart pounded in his chest. The house was silent, except for the sound of his breath and the faint hum of the refrigerator. He backed away from the door, his gaze fixed on the phone.
The unknown number had sent another text,
“You can try to ignore it, but you’re not alone. I’m watching. Waiting.”
James felt a wave of nausea rise in his throat. His fingers shook as he set the phone down on the counter. He tried to steady himself. This had to be a prank, right? Some sick joke from one of his friends. Someone was messing with him. It had to be.
But the bone. The note. The feeling… something about it didn’t feel like a joke.
He went to the window, pulling the curtains back just a little to peek outside. His street was dark, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows. There were no cars in the driveway. No figures in the yard. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the empty stillness of the neighborhood.
James turned away from the window and went into the kitchen to make himself some tea. He needed to calm down. He needed to stop overthinking. This wasn’t real.
As the kettle began to boil, he heard a faint creak, like a footstep, coming from upstairs.
His blood ran cold.
The house was silent. Too silent. The sound was unmistakable. Someone was upstairs.
He froze, holding his breath. The noise came again, closer this time as if someone was walking down the hall toward his room.
His heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Had someone broken in?
He grabbed his phone again, his fingers scrambling to unlock it. He tried to call his parents, but the call wouldn’t go through. The connection dropped.
Panic gripped him. He quickly texted his best friend, Max, but his messages didn’t send.
James looked around, trying to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t imagining things. The footsteps had been real. There was someone in the house.
A loud bang sounded from upstairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of something or someone scraping along the wooden floor.
James took a shaky step back. The door to the hallway was slightly creaked open, and he could see the shadow of a figure moving past it. His pulse pounded in his ears.
Oh God, no.
