I looked up, alarmed, when I heard the empty chair at my table move. She was beautiful, in the unique, runway model sort of way. She was beautiful in the way that made heads turned, either in envy or in interest.
I know this, because I have been described much in the same way.
Her expression looked troubled, almost furtive. She cleared her throat and pursed her lips in a weak, non-smile. I smiled politely at her in return. The cafe was crowded but not so much that she needed to take the empty chair at my table. I remember this, because at the time I was vaguely annoyed but maybe she needed help.
I remember her, because she was wearing far too much clothing for the warm fall day.
“Can I help you?” I asked her. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head slightly before nodding more vigorously. It didn’t escape me how her eyes darted about, looking beyond the other patrons, like she was scared of something.
The card she placed in front of me looked like a business card, but wasn’t. It was too thick, almost too luxurious, to be a standard one. The muted click of her nails almost masked the last words she whispered at me before leaving as suddenly as she had appeared.
I’m sorry.
That…. Was a few weeks ago. I can’t even really tell you what that whole situation was about but all I know is that it triggered something. Something hostile.
The card she had left didn’t even have a name on it. It only had a number - something in the triple digits - and a line that left the hair on the back of my neck standing up on end.
You’re it, it said in thick, block letters. It was too even to look handwritten but almost too rustic to look like typography. There was a phone number on the back, but I ignored it. I’ve tried throwing away that card several times but it kept reappearing in my purse, like I had just dropped it in there instead of the trash can.
Yeah, I know. The first time it happened it freaked the crap out of me. With more things happening, though, it became more of a nuisance than anything else.
The best way I could describe what was happening was like a demented game of tag, but instead of “it” finding the other players, the other players were finding it.
Except I don’t think the players are human.
It took me several days to realize what was happening.. And to be honest I’m still not even sure if my guess was right.
My best friend was the first one to notice the oddities, laughing it off because she thought it was that pareidolia phenomenon. She was the first one to point out how the wood grain in my hallway mirror looked like a little face. She thought it was charming because she had never noticed it, commenting on how once you noticed it, it was more apparent.
It was more apparent because it was getting clearer by the week. Once I noticed the face, I started seeing them everywhere.
Most of them were barely there, looking like some sort of blemish. But they weren’t blemishes, they were changes to my environment.
I touched one by accident, on my scarf. It was one of my favorites and the sudden cold startled me. It burned my skin, enough that I went to urgent care and they admonished me for the cold damage. That patch is still numb.
I kept seeing the faces. Most were ambiguous enough that I could barely call them faces, but some were getting clearer by the day. Most of them were in my apartment, since I spent the most time there.
I could ignore them, to a point, but that changed quickly. I couldn’t pretend they didn’t exist anymore.
Since there were so many of them, I was getting cold constantly being near them. I took to wearing long sleeves constantly around my apartment, and no matter how high I turned up the heat, my apartment was cold.
The one in the painting in my bedroom was the clearest. There were pupils in the dark, non-human eyes that showed up suddenly. I stopped sleeping in there when the outline of the eyes were clear, but I couldn’t even go in there anymore once I realized there were pupils. That was when I swallowed my pride and retrieved the business card.
I didn’t think they were linked, but it was too much of a coincidence that I started seeing faces in objects after getting that card from the random woman. It was like she cursed me, but reluctantly.
The phone rang twice before someone picked up. The silence on the other line was deafening, even after I asked if someone was there. I was about to hang up when the other side finally spoke.
“You have one week,” they said. The timbre sent another shudder down my spine. “Find one like you.”
I asked what they meant, but the voice just repeated the words before the line went silent.
I shuddered and looked around. Some of the eyes were clearer, the one in the plant pot especially so. When I caught a glance of the face in the frame, I saw that it also had eyes.
The mouth had shifted to a smile. An evil, eager smile.
I shuddered again as the temperature dropped despite everything on full blast.
That was when I made the decision.
I write this, sitting in a different cafe than the normal one I usually go to. There were too many faces there. No one seemed to notice how cold they were, but some other patrons had noticed the oddity and mentioned how charming they were.
It took several days but I found one. A man, this time. He wasn’t conventionally attractive but he was unique.
I could see the women near him sneaking covert glances much like the ones I would get. The more brazen ones giving him sly looks across the room. I had seen others before him, but they weren’t the right ones. They were too interested in other people, giving their admirers flirty glances in return.
But he was the right one, because he wouldn’t look at them in return. He was reading a book like I had been that day. There was an empty chair across from him.
I had the damned card in my pocket.
If I don’t do this now, I won’t have the chance again.
I’m sorry.