"I- Jesus Christ..."

  Was the only word my mouth could make. The muscles on my face froze as if I had just seen the coming of the apocalypse.

  My eyes were fixated on nothing, I couldn't think of anything, all that I could think of was nothing. Not school, not the teachers...

  Fear hung in the air, uneasiness was the perfume. Cold sweat pools on my temple. Words cannot describe the very thing that I'm experiencing.

  "I'm uneasy, but because of what? The bugs inside that game?"

  "What the heck was that?"

  My voice echoes silently inside my room, to nothing but only a deaf ear.

  My hands were sweating, I told myself over and over again that it was just a glitch, a bug, that's it—it's a game that was filled with them.

  I looked at the dish my mother made, why wasn't it—

  This doesn't make sense. I don't know what's happening to me, I was sure that my mother was making omelette rice.

  "it should have been that, it should have BEEN that. Not... THIS!"

  A headache struck me, a sudden one. It wasn't severe, but it was enough to make this entire thing all the way worse.

  I sat still, contemplating, trying to make sense the things that doesn't.

  And then it hit me. When I thanked my mother, she didn't even respond. She didn't even notice my presence, I was too lost in my excitement to take the food, let alone to take note of her expressions.

  Excitement blinded me.

  "This day doesn't feel right, I should've known from the start. Everything went too well, everything felt off—"

  I paused. As my mind cleared up, making room for reason to enter... I can't help but to realize how off-putting this day was, it was a good day, sure. But it felt to strange to be a good day, everything fell in place too perfectly, it's unsettling.

  "What was I thinking? It's just... my mind playing tricks on me, it's all just a coincidence. My mother didn't hear me thanking her. That's why she didn't respond, as for the pancake and mac & cheese? She must have used a diffrent seasoning for it, that's why when she made it, the air reeks of omelette."

  I took a closer look at the dish. Where's the fork? Spoon?

  ...

  With reluctance I held the pancake with my right hand. It was cold...

  Cold? As if it was left at room temperature for four hours, or even more.

  "This can't be right, not even an hour has passed."

  I paid close attention, and realized that the pancake, was stale.

  "How?"

  I said in confusion. My brain tried to gather all the scenarios on how this might've happened. None made sense.

  My hands unconciously lets go, the pancake fell on the desk's surface with a thud. It's not a food anymore, it was as solid as a rock.

  I shifted my gaze to the mac & cheese, my eyes widened in disbelief. The cheese was gooey, clumpy, and almost just as solid as the pancake. It wasn't even cheese anymore. It was a thick slime pudding. Something that would even make the strongest stomach churn.

  Instictively, I stood up and jumped away from the desk. Everything doesn't make sense, what is going on?

  "MOM!" I yelled.

  Nothing.

  "M-MOM?!" This time, I couldn't hold back the fear. I stuttered.

  As minutes passed, I couldn't wait any longer. I decided to leave my room.

  I walked towards the door, each step was laced with alertness.

  I reached for the door handle and pulled on it.

  The door wouldn't budge.

  "What?"

  Tried turning the handle again, the door rattles. It refused to open.

  "I don't even have a lock, are the hinges STUCK?!"

  I tried again, this time, pulling even harder.

  And yet, it wouldn't open, the force shaked my door, but not even an inch of it is budging.

  "GOD!" I screamed in frustration.

  I tried to kick the door down, each kick was hard. Kicks that made even myself surprised that I could go this far, but it still stood its place. Not even a dent.

  "Why isn't my mother here yet! The kicks should have alerted HER! I'M TRYING TO KICK THE DAMN DOOR DOWN." I yelled, after a while of silence. I stopped trying to kick the door down realizing that it was no use.

  I paced back and forth, holding my head in frustration. I could swear a tear dripped onto my cheeks.

  And it was at that moment, I noticed the Weker clock again.

  7:33 a.m.

  ...

  "I know that—I KNOW that homework might drive someone crazy, but I'm sure, I AM sure that's not the time the clock's hand was pointed at BEFORE!" My words were caught inside my throat, choking on air was the sentence to describe it.

  With a swift swoop, I grabbed the wecker clock. Trying to see if it was malfunctioning, which was a hope I held on.

  But nothing seems to be off, it was just how I imaged it to be. The batteries were in place, and I've changed it yesterday. It couldn't have ran out.

  I placed the wecker clock back, next to a three-pronged gadget with a bearing in the middle and quickly went towards the window, at least to see what's going on outside. Maybe my mother is outside, maybe she is. She didn't heard me because she was outside, that's it!

  As I looked out, the color was drained from my face. It felt almost like I was observing my own body from a third person perspective.

  "The neighborhood, it's... dear God..."

  As I looked outside, left and right. The road infront of my house stretched for miles, I couldn't even see an end to it, I looked down, expecting to see the ground. But what I saw, made any optimism that I had left, dissapear. I don't know how to describe it, there was no ground but there was one. Almost like the background, a skybox.

  "What is thi—Where am I?! This isn't... this isn't real, IT CAN'T BE-"

  My words were cut short when I heard a grinding sound, similar to a statue being dragged on the ground. I was familiar with this noise, ever since I helped my grandfather move a concrete block to be used as a seat when we were fishing.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  I couldn't pinpoint the origin of the noise, but it was somewhere. Somewhere that wasn't in my room

  It grew louder, louder, and louder. The noise was gut-wretching.

  The atmosphere was tense, the air filled with an unexplainable sense of dread. I could practically feel the tension.

  My eyes darted around, trying to locate the noise, until my search pointed toward my bedroom's door.

  The grinding grew louder, and louder, until whatever's outside stopped infront of my bedroom's door.

  From the cracks under my door, I could see a shadow.

  My heart dropped.

  The door swung open, it hits the wall with a force that could've easily broken the door, but it wasn't even in the slightest bit dented.

  In the doorway, was my mother, standing there. Something wasn't right, she was holding the same tray with the same food on it. Pancakes and mac & cheese.

  "M-Mom?." I said, gaining nothing but silence in return.

  My mother—No, the thing moved, it unnaturally moved. It approached me. She wasn't even walking, it's almost like she's being pushed forward by something. Her legs were stationary, yet... IT moved.

  I stood up from my bed and backed away, to put as much distance as I could possibly can, trying to get away from it. But my heart sank as I felt the concrete wall behind me, I had nowhere to go.

  With time running out, and IT getting ever closer, inching bit by bit. I grabbed the wecker clock on my desk and threw it with all my might towards its direction.

  [Clank]

  I heard the clock making contact, first what sounded like bone, then the clock hits the floor. The thing, was unharmed. It was like throwing something at a concrete wall, the clock just...

  "Wh-"

  All of the sudden, what seems to be paper stacked ontop of eachother slithered out of the doorway, every movement that it does made a rustling, crumpling noise.

  Whatever new addition to this insanity was, it grabbed my moth—No, IT. I couldn't even believe my eyes, I can't even trust them at this point. But I knew, this was real.

  IT looked at me, smilling as always. While the stack of papers wrapped around IT. Playing a game of tug-O-war, but—IT didn't even pay attention to the paper that's wrapped around IT, its gaze was focused on me.

  God forbid whatever happens next.

  I couldn't get this image out of my mind.

  If I didn't believe in miracles back then, I do now. The thing, that was like an iron statue, who's dragging itself forward, lost friction with the ground and was pulled back to the doorway. It didn't even acknowledge it was being violently pulled back into the hallway, its head was still focused on me.

  The door slammed shut, the noise of the contact rang loudly, I instinctively covered my ears. Andrenaline was coursing through my body, something that I never felt before. I quickly tried to find anything that could barricade the door or atleast keep whatever that was, whatver IT was, outside. My gaze fell onto the mini-bookshelf that I had.

  If there's anything that had potential of being a makeshift barricade, this wss it. I attempted to lift it up, it was heavy. My legs almost buckling under its weight, and the fate of my arms was no more worse.

  But the andrenaline, was unmatched.

  I set the mini-bookshelf down infront of the door, setting it up in a position so that the it prevents anything from opening my bedroom's door.

  To be safe than sorry, I piled up more of my belongings infront of that door, ANYTHING. To keep that door shut. After I was finished barricading my door, I felt a small sense of relief.

  I was on full alertness, my fight or flight response kicking in. I tried making sense on what that was, but even excuses couldn't form any reasons.

  "Chr—Christ sake, I... What..."

  My mind couldn't make any coherent thoughts.

  At that moment, I remembered that I had a phone. My first thought was to call help services, mainly, the police.

  I went to the nightstand and reached for my phone, turning it on. The battery was at 32%

  "I don't even know what to say anymore, the battery was—Just perfect... add more yeah? Just go ahead and add more unexplainable occurences here. Why am I even surprised? It should've been at 83%!"

  I laughed, a laughter that was heavy with sarcasm. And a laughter that beared the weight of my frustration.

  "At—Atleast the wifi is still working."

  Despite the current state that I find myself in, I sighed in relief.

  I knew that everything was going against me. I never believed in ghosts and paranormal activities, but considering on what just happened.

  I'm leaning towards the fact that whatever's going on isn't normal.

  I dialed 911 on my mobile device, set the phone on my ear and waited.

  ...

  It was picked up.

  My hopes were rekindled as I heard the all-to-familiar,

  "911, what's your emergency?"

  My heart was beating faster and faster for every second that passes, I can't believe I got through.

  "My name's M-x---l! I NEED HELP, please I beg of you. My mother tried to attack me—I can't even leave my room, PLEASE. SEND THE POLICE."

  My voice trembled with fear, stuttering over a word or two.

  And I heard it again.

  "911, what's your emergency?"

  ...

  "DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME? MY OWN MOTHER TRIED TO ATTACK ME, SHE-SHE WAS NOT THE PERSON THAT I KNEW! IT WASN'T MY MOTHER."

  And again

  "911, what's your emergency? "

  "WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT'S MY EMERGENCY?! I'VE TOLD YOU IT, LET... Let me rephrase it. My OWN mother tried to ATTACK me. There is SOMETHING in my house with ME and I'm SCARED for my LIFE."

  And... again

  "911, what's your emergency?"

  ...

  "Oh God, you—"

  I interrupted myself, and hanged up.

  I couldn't even convince myself that this is happening.

  "What should I do? everything that I tried to do ended up doing nothing." A feeling of dread, and hopelesness washed over me.

  The hope that I had, vanished in an instant, I was left in my bedroom, alone, with my own thoughts.

  Out of frustration I grabbed my pillow and threw it at the wall to at least help me calm down a little, but to no avail.

  As I stood there, holding my tears. I realized that I had the contacts of my parents saved in my phone, I knew at this point that I shouldn't be hoping for anything, because, I know. It's just a false sense of hope.

  I started scrolling through my contact, the first one to appear was my mother. Knowing... what just transpired, I shouldn't call her, if it is even her.

  Next on the list was my grandpa, someone who I trusted and knew for a lifetime, I decided that it's worth a shot.

  I pressed his number and called him. I waited and waited, at first, I thought that he wasn't going to pick up which wasn't surprising at all. Because after all of this, why would that be the case?

  But to my surprise, this time, my call-it was heard.

  "Hello? Who's this? I'm not paying for any car warranties, and I'm sure am not interested in ANY of your sales."

  It was him, it was my grandpa. I recognized his voice, how could I even forget? Without hesitating, I said to him.

  "GRANDPA! IT'S ME, I DON'T HAVE TIME TO EXPLAIN, BUT PLEASE. HELP. ME."

  Silence was heard for a moment.

  "Kid? Kid, that's you? Ain't... ain't no way. This a sick joke? Are you one of them prank-sters? "

  Pranksters? Jokes? what was grandpa on about? We just met a few days ago, now he's acting like we haven't seen each others in years!

  "Grandpa?! What do you mean—It's ME! Who else could it be? Please grandpa, I need help! My mom tried to attack me. I don't even feel safe being in my own house. Pick me up, PLEASE. I can't even leave my room, I'm scared!"

  I said, my voice had an air of urgency. Without me even realizing it, I was practically holding the phone as if I was holding off a ledge to not fall to my death.

  "I don't know who this is! You're sick for making this up. Don't want to hear anything from you, darn pranksters. Go get a job!"

  Grandpa's voice was firm, as if he believed I'm... one of... whatever grandpa said I was.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  And just like that, he hung up the call. Disbelief filled my mind.

  "Why was grandpa like this? I've never seen him like this before.

  But then, at least it felt human. Unlike the 911 operator, which was just... saying the same word on repeat.

  Al—Alright, there's still some contacts left." I said, trying to assure to myself that one of them would pick me up.

  One by one, I tried calling them all. My friends? My... relatives? It was met with the same reaction as grandpa had. Some called me sick, And some? Just... repeated their word, over, and over again. Just... like the operator.

  At this point, I felt what it feels to be truly hopeless. I've tried every contact that was saved in my phone.

  I sat down on my bed, contemplating my fate. Why am I trapped here? And I said, for the millionth time.

  "What is even going on?"

  I looked around, the door was still firmly barricaded. My room stripped of furnitures that's not nailed down or was light enough for me to carry.

  And then I remembered the note. Curiousity got the better of me, I haven't even thought of opening the note that came with that game.

  What do I have to lose? might as well just read it.

  I walked back to my chair and sat back on it, my computer was off. As usual, I reached down for my computer's case and powered it on. But this time, I didn't see the loading symbol.

  I saw a black void on my monitor's screen, not the typical black screen. It felt... empty, as if I was staring back at an endless space. Sure, there was the occasional "Loading" Screen, and for a while. It seems like my computer was flickering and changing between the loading screen and the black abyss.

  Honestly, I was beyond scared, sure, all the events that just transpired was just beyond the ability of reality... but I can't shake off the feeling that this computer might have something valuable. And for it to be corrupted..?

  I shudder at that thought.

  Then, the screen displayed a message that was small to see, barely visible, but not impossible to read.

  "A yo-n- -o- w-s -eclared --is-ing i- ----7

  I squinted at the text, it was hard to make out what it said. It sounded important. But—was my computer even coded to spit out random sentences like that? I know not to question anything. The more I ask the more lost I becomed.

  After a long while, the computer finally loaded the homescreen. The pixels were all off, the colors was misplaced, not enough to affect the whole screen, but enough to see bits that doesn't match.

  Quickly, I entered my password and logged in. I clicked on the recycling bin, and to my relief, the note was there. I dragged the note out of there and opened it.

  "-a-we--, I am the one who watched you.

  The one who knew you.

  The one you feel but not see.

  I know more of who you are than you do.

  You are scared.

  Frustrated.

  In denial.

  I see you.

  All that you felt.

  Is nothing.

  It was not your time yet.

  It was a mistake.

  It is time to go b-"

  The rest of the note was corrupted, letters tangled with each other. Some was even merged. But whatever this was, it wasn't normal. None of this was.

  I stared at my screen for what seems to be minutes, until I came to my senses and tried to comprehend what I just read.

  "What does this even mean? Just spit it out, Christ! What's the need to even be cryptic?!"

  I tried to decipher the message, over and over again, skimmed it, analyzed it. And-there was nothing. Nothing that I could figure out right now.

  Out of anger, I slammed my fist on the desk. Immediately, I felt regret, holding my wrist in pain. I cursed at whoever is doing this to me.

  ...

  The wooden desk cracks, almost as if the inside of it is hollow.

  Strange...

  I pryed the wooden splinters, one by one. I began to form a hole in my desk.

  And not long, my suspicions were confirmed. The inside of my desk was indeed, hollow.

  "Was my desk hollow all along?"

  "Why?" Why, was the only word I could think of.

  Without a second thought, I reached my hand inside and felt blindly around the wooden space, it was mostly empty. Until I could feel what seems to be paper... No, a polaroid photo.

  I grabbed whatever was there and extracted my hand, and to my surprise. It was a polaroid photo of me and my grandpa, along with my relatives posing infront of the Apple Park headquarters, California.

  I reminisce the fond memory I had with my grandpa at that time, if only I could relive it again.

  The more I looked at the polaroid photo, the more I began to feel unsettled. Something is out of place, but everything looked normal in the photo.

  My mind was racing at full speed, trying to figure out what made the picture unsettling. But again, nothing formed up.

  I set down the photo down, trying to think of something. trying to rationalize, but I couldn't, I was in a full-on survival mode.

  And then it struck again, headache. With intensity unlike before, Like if my mind was being slowly freezed in a walk-in freezer. I hold the temple of my head as I stumbled backward and sat slumped on the floor, my back hitting the frame of my bed.

  It grew in intensity, with every beat of my heart, I felt a horrifying pain inside my head. My vision was blurring, my ears were ringing. I grunted in pain, my legs were kicking at nothing.

  My Legs Were Kicking at Nothing

  I enjoyed the breeze. My friend pushed the swing harder and harder. I always dreamt of being a pilot, and this felt like if I was truly flying. I used my legs to gain momentum, and ultimately, speed.

  We had fun together. As time went by, we're talking with the parents near the playground. I had no idea how much time passed, I couldn't wait to play Minecraft when we get back home. And maybe check up with them and my buddies in Discord if they're up for a session.

  The sun sets on the horizon, and I decided that it's the time to go home, and so we did. After a long walk, I arrived at my house. I walked on the all-too-familiar brick pattern path leading towards my house's front door.

  I heard my myse-f insrt-d th- k-ys, -nd.

  [Click]

  .....

  I laid there, the pain that was unbearable started to cease and fade away, where all that I could see was only white. Now, color returns to my vision.

  Still gasping for air, the memories hits me like a sledgehammer.

  "Discord? What was that—What's even is that?!" I had no memory of using that software, let alone do I have any idea it existed.

  I paused for a moment. I knew that this felt like a memory I had, then again some things still doesn't make sense. It's as if this memory wasn't even mine, but I know, I know that it belonged to me.

  I sat there, still slumped. Looking at anything, anything that could distract me, the barricaded door? The broken clock? The calendar...?

  ...

  "Since when did I have a calendar?" I looked at it, analyzing it, trying to recall anything that points to me buying it or setting it up. But as always, nothing.

  I stared at it.

  The year on the calendar was 2010. I blinked—and watched in horror as the last number flickered, twisted... and became a 7.