SILENT NIGHT

Jessica hunched over her computer on the 50th floor, racing a deadline that had piled up like unpaid bills. Exhaustion clawed at her eyes, but she had to finish. Then the screen blinked out. White text flared across the void: “YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN.”

A heartbeat later, the desktop returned—spreadsheets, cursor, coffee rings. Jessica froze, shook her head. Hallucination from too many late nights. She glanced at the clock: 2:00 a.m. The office was empty; she hadn’t noticed anyone leave. She slammed the laptop shut, stuffed papers into her bag, and bolted.

She locked her office, jabbed the elevator button. Fifty floors down, the night doorman stared without blinking—eyes pure white, like polished marble. Jessica opened her mouth to ask what was wrong; the question died in her throat. She fled past him.

Outside, a lone cab idled. She raised a hand, then saw the driver’s face—same blank stare, meter glowing: “YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN.”

Jessica ran. The street was silent, storefronts dark—except her regular coffee shop. Its neon sign now read: “YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN JESSICA.”

She veered left toward Dave’s building. At full sprint she rounded the corner and crashed into a man. Strong arms caught her before she hit the pavement.

He was unfairly handsome—dark eyes, silk-smooth skin, jaw sharp enough to cut glass. Shoulder-length hair spilled forward as he steadied herica.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked, amused.

Jessica flushed. “Everything’s wrong. I—I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Feels like you tackled me on purpose.”

“Sorry. Who are you?”

“You really don’t want to know, Jessica.”

Her head snapped up. “How do you know my name?”

He laughed softly. “I sent the message.”

“You?”

“Not me. My father.”

“Who are you?”

“Can’t say. But listen: keep moving forward. One step back and they take you.”

“Take me where? By who?”

“Not who—them.” He tilted his chin behind her.

Jessica whipped around—nothing but empty sidewalk. When she turned back, he was gone. Her pulse hammered. She sprinted again, faster, refusing to stop.

A frail voice drifted from an alley: “Mark! My son, where are you?”

“Please, Mark—it’s Granny. Don’t leave me alone!”

Jessica skidded to a halt. Everyone she’d met tonight had those blank eyes. Maybe the old woman was trapped too. Maybe together they could figure it out. She doubled back.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

“My grandson Mark—he stormed out. Night’s not safe. I have to find him before the others do.”

“I’m heading to the next street. If I see him, I’ll send him back. Stay here.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Jessica rounded the corner and spotted a figure ahead. “Mark?”

The silhouette turned—early twenties, lost expression.

“Sorry, who are you?”

“Jessica. Your grandma’s looking for you, two streets back.”

“I’m new here—got turned around. Can you walk me?”

“Sure.”

They retraced her steps. Fog rolled in, swallowing buildings. Streetlights dimmed to candle glow. A wooden bridge appeared ahead, arching over black water that hadn’t existed minutes ago. Jessica stopped.

“This is wrong.”

“Why? Feels like home,” the young man said.

She looked at him—and saw the handsome stranger again. Same dark eyes, same half-smile.

He raised a finger to her lips; her scream cut off mid-breath.

“I told you not to step back.”

She woke gasping, sheets twisted, alarm clock blinking 2:00 a.m.

 

Jessica