I double checked the number, no one I knew. Googled the area code, from out of state. Another freaking spam text? I was getting sick of these, but this was a new one.

“Why not?” I texted back. Sometimes my partner would mess around with whoever was spamming them. I had never done it, but maybe it would be fun?

“You won’t like what you find.”

“And what will I find?”

“You won’t believe me. Just stay away.”

“Vague/unhelpful/are you serious?”

…

I waited.

“Yes. This isnt a joke.”

“Who are you? Why are you messing with me? Is this Eric?”

“No. Do not go home tonight.”

“And how exactly does this scam benefit you?”

“This is not a scam.”

I guess I couldve been more creative, but I get annoyed easily.

“And where do you suggest I go?”

“Anywhere you like.”

“Without any of my stuff?”

…

…

“That’s not my concern.”

“Im tired of this. Im blocking this number and reporting it. Good luck on your next scam!”

But before I have a chance to delete the number. A picture comes through.

Its my house.

“What the hell?! Where did you get that picture?”

“I told you. Its not a scam.”

“How do you know where I live and how did you get this number? If this is a joke its gone far enough!”

Not funny. Not funny at all. Should I call the cops? Does this warrant a call?

Oh shit! Michael. He must be at home by now.

I call him.

No answer.

I text him.

No answer. No answer.

Then …

Then nothing.

What do I do? What do I do? I need to know he’s ok. I pick up my speed and head to my train stop.

I keep trying to call. Dammit. I bounce and fidget on the train. The unknown number is silent.

Im about to explode out of my skin when the train door opens at my stop. I run. Nearly knocking people over to get up the station stairs.

It takes me too long to get home. The windows are dark.

I go up to the door. Its cracked open. No noise. No lights.

“Michael?”

I take a step in.

My phone dings.

“What did I tell you? Dont go in the house!”

I whip around. No one. I furiously text back.

“Are you watching me?”

“Get out before you regret it.”

I walk further into the hall.

“Babe? Michael?” I weakly call out. Still nothing but silence. I turn to look in the living room. And there is someone sitting on the couch facing away from me.

“Michael?” The figure stirs and turns slowly toward me.

“Lisa? Is that you?” It sounds like Michael. I’m so relieved it takes me a minute to register that his voice is, off, somehow.

I flip on the hall light. It’s him! “You scared the crap put me! What kind of prank are you playing? Texting me like that and sitting in the dark? This is not one of your better thought out jokes I can tell you.” I rambling, I’m nervous and I don’t know why.

Michael staggers up still turning toward me. He’s moving oddly, like he’s not quite coordinated . As he turns to me, it looks like something is wrong with his face, but it’s so dark in the living room.

“Are you ok?” I ask as I flip on the living room light, I scream. His eyes are gone! Just…gone. Black pits where they should be. I stumble back into the hall slamming against the side board where we keep our keys.

He turns all the way and reaches for me tripping over the back of the couch, falling to the floor with a crash. “Where are you?” he asks. As he does thick black sludge bubbles out of his mouth and over his chin. He voice sounds thick as though there is more sludge lodged in his throat.

This is wrong. I scramble away from him, not sure why but my every instinct is telling me to run. To get away. I listen. I run out the door and slam it and tear wildly down the sidewalk. I don’t know where to go other than away.

My phone pings, I’m still holding it. I slow to read the message.

“I told you not to go home tonight. I warned you. And now it has seen you too. That’s not Michael anymore. Meet me here at 11pm.”

An address comes through. I stop running and try to catch my breath. My reaction puzzles me, but I can barely think right now. Why did I run instead of calling for help? Who is this person? Why would I meet them? What is it?

I throw up into the bushes.