A Note of Secrets
Emma stared at the note in her trembling hand, the words repeating in her mind: “They’re watching you. The man in the gray coat—he knows.”
The homeless man had vanished into the crowd shortly after handing it to her, leaving her standing alone in the alleyway. Her heart pounded as she folded the note and shoved it into her bag. She needed answers, but every step forward seemed to deepen the mystery.
That evening, Emma walked home faster than usual, her eyes scanning the street for anything unusual. The familiar buzz of the city felt sharper, heavier, like it was hiding something. As she approached her apartment, she noticed a faint orange glow flickering in the distance.
The fire alarm was blaring. Her building was surrounded by smoke and chaos.
“Everyone out! There’s been an incident!” a firefighter shouted. Emma’s stomach twisted. She pushed through the crowd of tenants, desperate to know what had happened.
“It was an apartment on the fourth floor,” someone murmured.
Her apartment was on the fourth floor.
The next morning, Emma sat in a coffee shop, staring at her phone. Her apartment was sealed off for investigation. The authorities suspected an electrical issue, but Emma wasn’t convinced. The timing was too coincidental. First the notes, now this? Someone was trying to scare her—or worse.
She pulled out the second note and turned it over again. That’s when she noticed faint marks on the edge of the paper. Almost like indentations from writing on the sheet above it.
Emma grabbed a pencil from her bag and began shading lightly over the surface of the paper. Slowly, the outline of another message appeared:
“The answer is in the park. Midnight. Come alone.”
Her breath caught. The park? At midnight?
Despite every instinct screaming at her to stay home, Emma found herself walking through the deserted park just before midnight. The air was cold, and the trees cast long, eerie shadows under the dim glow of streetlights. She clutched her phone tightly, its flashlight her only comfort.
Near the center of the park, she spotted a figure sitting on a bench. Her heart raced as she approached. It was the homeless man, but he looked different—calmer, more composed.
“You came,” he said softly.
“You burned down my apartment,” Emma snapped, keeping her distance.
His eyes widened. “No, I didn’t. But they did.”
“Who’s ‘they’?!” Emma demanded.
The man sighed, looking around nervously. “You’re part of something bigger than you know, Emma. I was trying to protect you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out another crumpled note. This one was thicker, like it had something inside.
“Take this,” he said, handing it to her. “But don’t open it here. They’ll know.”
Before Emma could ask any more questions, the sound of footsteps echoed through the park. The man froze, his eyes darting toward the trees.
“They’re here,” he whispered, and before Emma could react, he bolted into the shadows.
Emma ran all the way home, clutching the note tightly in her hand. She locked her door and sat at the kitchen table, her heart pounding as she unfolded it.
Inside was a small key and a short message:
“Storage Unit 14. Trust no one.”
