The air felt charged with tension as Sarah Reid checked her watch for the third time that night. 11:55 PM. She stood by the window of her modest Melbourne apartment, staring down at the dimly lit street. The flickering streetlamp cast eerie shadows, making everything look distorted and strange. It was the sort of night when every creak and whisper seemed amplified, when shadows stretched a little too long, and the silence was unnervingly loud.
Then, her phone buzzed softly in the silence. An unknown number flashed on the screen. Heart racing, she hesitated, staring at the caller ID. Something about it felt… wrong. But against her better judgment, she answered.
“Hello?” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
“Are you ready to play?” a low, gravelly voice asked. It was distorted, almost mechanical, yet strangely familiar.
Sarah’s pulse quickened, her heart thudding in her chest like a warning drum. She knew she should hang up, but a morbid curiosity—one she couldn’t quite explain—kept her hand steady.
“Who are you?” she whispered again, this time softer, almost as if afraid of the answer.
The voice chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. “Your choices will decide. The rules are simple: Find me, or someone you love disappears.”
The line went dead. Sarah looked around her empty apartment, feeling the walls closing in. She was alone… wasn’t she?
Sarah’s life had always been ordinary. A steady job as a marketing professional, a small but comfortable apartment, and a circle of close friends—nothing about her life seemed out of the ordinary. She had her routines, her habits, and she enjoyed the predictable nature of her days. But everything changed that night.
Over the next few days, more calls came in. Each one was unsettlingly precise, revealing intimate details about her life. The stranger knew her daily routine, the names of her friends, even the book she’d been reading at the local café. But what scared her the most was when he mentioned something no one could possibly know—something she hadn’t shared with a single soul.
“Tell me, Sarah,” the voice drawled during one of the calls, “do you still think about that night? Do you still wonder if things could’ve been different?”
Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. “What… what do you mean?”
The voice hummed thoughtfully. “You know what I mean. But don’t worry… I’m not here to judge. I’m here to see if you’re ready to face the truth.”
Before she could respond, the line went dead again. Panic flared in her chest as she scanned her surroundings, convinced that someone was watching. She tried to brush it off as paranoia, but a creeping feeling of unease settled into her bones.
The next day, she found a note stuck to her bathroom mirror. The words were scrawled in neat handwriting: Meet me at 342 Brackett Street. Midnight. Alone.
At exactly midnight, Sarah found herself standing in front of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The building loomed over her, its silhouette etched against the dark sky like the outline of a beast waiting to devour. A cold breeze swept past, making her shiver.
With a deep breath, she pushed the creaking door open. The air inside was thick, suffocating. Dust particles floated through the dim light, shimmering like ghostly orbs. As she ventured further in, the sound of her footsteps echoed ominously. Then, somewhere deep within the warehouse, she heard it—the faint hum of electricity.
“Hello?” she called out, her voice sounding small and fragile in the vast, empty space.
A sudden movement caught her eye. A shadow darted between the shelves. She took a step back, fear tightening her throat.
“Over here,” the same voice called out, but this time it wasn’t through her phone. It came from somewhere inside the warehouse, reverberating off the walls.
She moved cautiously towards the source of the sound, only to find an old television screen flickering on a rickety table. It showed a live feed of her best friend, Lucas, tied to a chair in a dark room, his head slumped forward.
Sarah’s heart stopped. “Lucas!” she screamed, rushing forward, but the screen stayed the same.
“If you want to save him,” the voice said through the speakers, “you’ll have to play my game.”
Riddles began to appear on the screen, one after another, each more complex than the last. She knew Lucas’s life depended on her solving them. But as she worked through the puzzles, Sarah began to realize something terrifying: these riddles were all connected to her past. The places she’d visited, the choices she’d made—everything seemed to lead back to a single moment she’d tried so hard to forget.
With each riddle solved, Sarah discovered more about herself. She was being forced to confront the guilt she carried from a tragic event years ago—an event that involved Lucas. It was an accident, a choice made in a split second, but the consequences had haunted her ever since.
The final clue led her to an isolated cabin deep in the woods. The night was pitch black, and the only sound was the crunch of leaves under her feet. She hesitated at the door, heart pounding. Slowly, she turned the handle and stepped inside.
The cabin’s interior was dimly lit, and the smell of damp wood filled her nostrils. Lucas was there—alive, but barely conscious, tied to a chair in the center of the room. And standing beside him was a figure cloaked in shadows.
“Let him go,” Sarah demanded, stepping forward, her voice strong despite the terror clawing at her insides.
The figure stepped into the light, revealing a face she thought she’d never see again—Jake, Lucas’s older brother. He had been presumed dead years ago in a car accident… the accident Sarah was involved in.
“You should have been the one to pay,” Jake spat, his eyes blazing with a mixture of grief and rage. “But instead, you ran. You built a new life while we were left with nothing.”
Sarah’s world tilted. The realization crashed over her like a tidal wave. Jake hadn’t died. He had survived and had been watching her, waiting, planning his revenge. The game had never been about winning or losing—it was about making her confront her guilt, to destroy her from the inside.
“I’m sorry, Jake… I… I didn’t know,” she whispered, voice breaking.
But Jake only shook his head. “It’s too late for apologies.”
Suddenly, the cabin’s lights went out. There was a struggle—a blur of shadows and violence. And then, silence. When the lights flickered back on, Jake was gone. Lucas lay slumped on the floor, breathing shallowly but alive. Beside him was a note, written in Jake’s handwriting:
“Game Over. This time.”
Months passed, but the events of that night never left Sarah’s mind. Jake had vanished, but his presence lingered in every shadow, every unexpected sound. She knew he wasn’t done. He was out there, watching, waiting for the next move.
And so, Sarah lived in constant fear, knowing that one day, the phone would ring again.
And the game would begin anew.
