"I Found a Phone in a Graveyard — The Messages Are Still Coming In"

The night was too quiet. The kind of quiet that wraps around you, pressing against your ears until you hear your own heartbeat. I shouldn’t have been there — the old cemetery on the edge of town wasn’t even on the map. But I saw the light first. A faint, flickering glow, half-buried beneath a patch of uneven dirt.

It was a phone. Cracked screen, buzzing weakly in my hand. One new message:

"Don’t let him leave."

I stared at it, confused. Before I could think, another message appeared.

"He’s watching you."

My chest tightened. The wind picked up, whispering through the rows of headstones like it knew something I didn’t. I spun around, but I was alone. I swiped to check the sender — no number. Just a name: Unknown.

The phone vibrated again.

"If you run, he’ll follow."

My legs felt locked in place, heart hammering. I didn’t hear the footsteps until they were right behind me.

The last message came in as my breath caught in my throat:

"Too late."

2 2

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