September 18th, 10:32 AM
Ash woke up with a strange heaviness in his chest, like he had forgotten something important. His alarm had gone off at the usual time, the morning light spilled through his curtains just like it always did, but something was… missing. Not an object, not a specific memory just a feeling, like the ghost of a thought that had slipped away before he could grasp it.
Shaking it off, he went about his morning routine. But the little things felt wrong. His toothbrush wasn't where he usually kept it. His coffee tasted bitter, even though he made it the same way every morning. And his phone? No messages, no missed calls.Why did that bother him? Who was he expecting to hear from?
The city had its usual chaos traffic, hurried footsteps, the occasional street vendor shouting about fresh pastries. Everything looked normal, yet there was a quiet hum beneath it all, an underlying wrongness that gnawed at him. The buildings along his usual route seemed slightly taller, the shadows stretching just a little too far. He shook his head.Lack of sleep. Overthinking.
At the university, the feeling only got worse. Conversations felt… rehearsed. The barista at the campus café greeted him like she always did, but there was a hesitation, just for a fraction of a second, before she spoke. Like she was making sure she got it right.
The worst part came in his lecture. Halfway through, the professor stopped speaking, eyes scanning the room with a furrowed brow.
"Strange," the professor muttered. "I could've sworn… Never mind."
Ash sat up a little straighter. What did he see? Or what did he think he saw?
Nobody else reacted, just continued taking notes. Ash tried to ignore the unease settling in his gut, but it lingered, like a whisper at the back of his mind.
Later, walking past the campus library, he caught his reflection in the glass doors.He almost didn't recognize himself. It was his face same sharp features, same tired eyes but something about the way his reflection moved felt off. Just slightly delayed, like a bad video feed buffering for a second too long.
His heart kicked up, and he turned away. Coincidence. Imagination. Just a trick of the light.
But then the distortions started stacking up. A classmate asked him how his morning had been, referencing a conversation they had never had. A street performer played a melody that sounded like it was playing backward. He checked his watch at 11:12 AM,walked a few blocks lost in thought, and when he checked again, it was 11:27 AM. The walk should have taken five minutes. Where did those ten minutes go?
Symbols started showing up in places he had never noticed before patterns in the way posters were layered on bulletin boards, the way cracks in the pavement seemed to form shapes when he wasn't looking directly at them.
By evening, the air felt heavier, like the city itself was pressing against him. As he walked home, the sensation of being watched became unbearable. He turned a corner and stopped.
Faint chalk marks were scrawled across the sidewalk.
"You were warned."
Ash's breath caught in his throat. The words looked rushed, almost frantic. His pulse hammered against his ribs. He swallowed hard and forced himself to keep moving.This was paranoia. Just paranoia.
But when he reached his apartment, something was waiting for him.
The door was locked, just as he had left it. Nothing was out of place. And yet, the second he stepped inside, he knew something was wrong.
Then he saw them.
Framed photos lined his wall. Pictures of himself. But not ones he remembered taking. In some, he stood with people he didn't recognize. In another, he was in front of a building that didn't exist. And in the last one, he was staring directly into the camera. Not smiling. Just watching.
A chill ran down his spine.
He turned away from the photos, his breath unsteady, and walked to the kitchen. His hands shook slightly as he reached for a glass of water. The faucet sputtered before the water ran clear, but for a second just a second it looked darker, thicker. Like ink. He blinked, and it was gone.
Setting the glass down, he ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady his thoughts. Think, Ash. Think. He had spent his life observing people, understanding their behaviors. But what if he was the one being observed?
Something cold slithered down his spine at the thought.
The silence in his apartment felt unnatural, like the air itself was listening. He turned on the TV just to fill the space, but the screen flickered, static breaking through the channels before settling on a news broadcast. The anchor was mid-sentence when she suddenly stopped talking.
She looked straight into the camera.
Straight at him.
Ash's stomach twisted. He fumbled for the remote, but her lips parted, and she spoke a single phrase, too soft for him to hear.
Then the screen cut to black.
A heavy, suffocating stillness filled the room.
Ash had always believed he was in control. That he understood the game better than anyone else.
But for the first time in his life, he had the sinking feeling that he wasn't the one playing it.