This morning I woke up and made my usual coffee and toast. It was hot and humid out, a typical July in the Midwest. I don’t usually go to the front door in the morning– no reason if I’m not going anywhere– but today I heard a thump by the door, so I went to check. I thought it might have been an animal or something, or maybe a package hitting the door. To my surprise, there wasn’t anything on the porch, no matter how hard I looked. When I looked down, though, I saw it. A note, folded on college-ruled notebook paper like a student wrote it. Looking at it, it wasn’t creepy or foreboding or anything like that, but when I read it, well…
Here’s the note:
Hi, you don’t know me, but I know you. I’ve known you for a while. Three years, now. It is of upmost importance that you read this note carefully. There is somebody watching you, somebody who has been watching you for a long time, maybe you’ve noticed them here and there, in your peripheral vision, in the shadows, in the dark. You would have noticed them more when you were a kid. They were the monster under the bed, in the closet. The eyes you saw in the dark outside your window. The rustling you heard in the woods.
Anyway. You know who I’m talking about. Maybe you don’t know you know, but you know. You turned 21 a few months ago. That’s when they started again in earnest, that’s when you started noticing them again, like when you were a kid. They’ve been outside your windows, following you at the grocery store, hiding behind trees and watching you on your walks.
They’ve been in your house. I know because I saw them go in, through the second story window. I never saw them go out, so they might still be in there. With you. It is VERY important that you don’t freak out right now.
Here’s what you need to do: continue on as normal until 12:15 p.m, have your coffee, have your toast, watch the news for a bit and then your show. Send your emails, text your friends. Do not call anybody. Do not tell anybody about this note. Do not throw this note away, keep it in your pocket. When 12:15 hits, walk calmly out the door. Go to your car. Get in. Start the car. Drive until you get to your favorite gas station. Once there, get out of the car. I will be there, waiting. I’ll tell you the rest when we meet.
That’s it, the end of the note. It’s 11:15 as I write this. I don’t know what to do. I can’t stay in the house with that thing, person, whatever it is, whatever they are. But, I can’t just go to the gas station and meet somebody who has been watching me for three years, either. I have an hour to decide.