It was a normal afternoon.
Nothing unusual. No special plans. Just another quiet day where everything felt predictable.
He was sitting at home when the doorbell rang.
He wasnāt expecting anyone.
He got up slowly, a little confused, and walked toward the door.
When he opened it, there was no one there.
Just a package.
Placed neatly in front of his door.
He looked around.
Empty hallway.
No footsteps.
No voices.
āStrange,ā he muttered.
He picked it up.
It had his name on it.
His full name.
And his address.
Everything was correct.
But he didnāt order anything.
He was sure of that.
He stood there for a moment, holding the box, trying to remember if he had forgotten something.
Maybe it was a delivery from a friend.
Maybe someone sent him something.
That had to be it.
He closed the door and placed the box on the table.
It wasnāt big.
Not heavy.
Justā¦ normal.
But something about it didnāt feel normal.
He stared at it for a few seconds.
Then laughed quietly.
āYouāre overthinking,ā he said to himself.
He grabbed a knife and opened it.
Insideā¦
There was another box.
Smaller.
He frowned.
Opened that one too.
Insideā¦
There was a phone.
Old.
Not brand new.
Not completely broken.
Justā¦ used.
He picked it up.
Turned it on.
It worked.
No lock.
No password.
The screen lit up.
One app open.
Messages.
There was only one conversation.
With a contact saved as:
āYOUā
His heart slowed for a second.
āWhat is thisā¦?ā he whispered.
He opened the conversation.
One message.
āDonāt ignore this.ā
He froze.
That didnāt make sense.
Who would send this?
And why?
He looked around his apartment.
Silence.
Everything normal.
Too normal.
He looked back at the phone.
His fingers hovered over the screen.
Should he reply?
Should he just ignore it?
āThis is stupid,ā he said under his breath.
But he couldnāt shake the feeling.
He typed:
āWho is this?ā
Sent.
The message showed as delivered instantly.
Seconds passed.
Thenā¦
A reply.
āFinally.ā
His chest tightened.
āWhat do you want?ā he typed quickly.
The reply came faster this time.
āLook at the time.ā
He frowned.
Looked at the clock.
3:17 PM.
āOkay?ā he typed.
Another message:
āRemember it.ā
Now he was confused.
āWhat are you talking about?ā he wrote.
No reply.
Minutes passed.
Nothing.
He put the phone down.
Tried to ignore it.
But something about it stuck in his mind.
3:17 PM.
Why that time?
He went on with his day.
Tried to forget about the whole thing.
Hours passed.
Night came.
Everything felt quiet again.
Around midnightā¦
His phone buzzed.
Not the strange phone.
His real phone.
A notification.
News alert.
He opened it.
And what he sawā¦
Made his body go cold.
āA fire broke out earlier today at 3:17 PMā¦ā
He stared at the screen.
3:17 PM.
The same time.
The same exact time.
The article continued.
āAuthorities are still investigatingā¦ā
He didnāt read the rest.
His mind was somewhere else.
He slowly turned his headā¦
Toward the table.
The other phone.
Still there.
Silent.
Waiting.
He walked toward it.
Picked it up.
The screen turned on by itself.
New message.
āI told you not to ignore it.ā
His hands started shaking.
āThis isnāt funny,ā he typed quickly.
Reply:
āItās not a joke.ā
āWhat do you want from me?ā he wrote.
A pause.
Then the message came.
āNext timeā¦ answer faster.ā
Silence.
He stared at the screen.
His mind racing.
Next time?
What did that mean?
Before he could type anything elseā¦
Another message appeared.
āTomorrow. 11:42 AM.ā
His heart started pounding.
He looked at the time.
Then back at the message.
No explanation.
No details.
Just a time.
And suddenlyā¦
He understood something that made everything worse.
This wasnāt random.
This wasnāt a mistake.
This was a warning.
And the scariest part?
He didnāt know if ignoring itā¦
Was even an option.
