A Creepy Message

Ping… my mobile phone lit up with a message from Pn. Monica, my English teacher. The message came when I just finished a horror story about people receiving creepy messages from an unnamed psycho killer before they got killed. Exhausted, I was planning to only reply her message after I woke up from my afternoon nap. However, on second thought, it was rude to pretend I didn’t see the notification at all. And so, I unlocked my phone and checked the message.

“I’m almost there.”

I stared at the three words. What? Almost to where? The first thing that came in mind is– Pn. Monica must’ve sent the message to the wrong person. Knowing that if she figured out she delivered the information wrongly she would apologize, I decided to ignore it and proceed to close my eyes. But before I could do that, my phone vibrated again. I glanced at the conversation.

“I’m in front of your house.”

I was stunned for a few seconds. How does Pn. Monica knew where I live? I mean I didn’t even do something that made her super pissed until she wanted so talk with my parents. The more I look at the message, the more it gave me creeps. That horror story lingered in my mind. Something snapped in my head. I almost fell down from my bed when I rushed to get on my feet. I slammed my bedroom door open and fled the downstairs, lucky enough for not tripping when I do so. My parents and my sister who were watching dramas in the living room had confused expression plastered on their faces when I hurriedly opened the main door.

Funny was, I found no one standing at the gate, not even a stray cat. I almost laughed. I’m pretty sure Pn. Monica doesn’t know where I live and there is no reason she would be here. Even if there is, she should’ve informed me. I trudged back up the stairs and found my phone vibrating again. Now what?

“I’m in your room. Where are you? Reply ASAP.”

Chill ran down my spine. That is exactly what that unnamed psycho killer sent to his target after he said he was in front of his target’s house. It can’t be… I don’t believe in urban legends and most of the horror stories were made up by writers. I mustered courage and arrived at the last slab of the stairs. The moment I stood in front of my bedroom, my heart stops beating and I nearly screamed.

I saw a figure in my room.

And that was my brother playing his PSP on my bed.

The next thing I knew was– Pn Monica send another message saying that she was sorry for texting the wrong person.

🐯 Rawr 🐯