The Last Notification

It started with a single notification at 3:17 a.m.

Emily groggily blinked at the screen. “We see you reading”? She hadn’t subscribed to anything new. Her room was still, shadows thick in the corners, moonlight slicing across her floor like pale blades.

She clicked the notification.

The screen went black for a second, then a message appeared:

“You’ve been chosen to read between the lines.”

A chill settled over her skin. The next moment, the article loaded. It wasn’t an article. It was a transcription.

Of her bedroom.
Right now.

Line by line, it described her every movement.
“Emily shifts uneasily. She looks to the door. She doesn’t see it yet.”

Her breath caught.

“She turns slowly. Now she sees the figure in the corner.”

Her phone dropped. She didn’t want to turn, but her body betrayed her. She turned.

There was something in the corner. Something tall. Something with no face—just a mouth stitched where eyes should be.

And then her phone buzzed once more.