large_Red Green Gift Time Facebook Ad (2).webp

medium_Red Green Gift Time Facebook Ad (2).webp

small_Red Green Gift Time Facebook Ad (2).webp

thumbnail_Red Green Gift Time Facebook Ad (2).webp

Red Green Gift Time Facebook Ad (2).webp

Novelo Rectangle

The alarm wasn't supposed to go off yet. My cellphone blared, jarring me from a restless sleep, 5:47 AM. Always thirteen minutes early, as if taunting me with borrowed time. I groaned, reaching for my phone with trembling fingers. Another day spent in this infinite nightmare. As I dressed, my movements mechanical, I caught glimpses of my reflection in the mirror. Eyes hollow, skin pale white - a ghost already. The weight of my service weapon and badge felt heavier than ever as I retrieved them from the safe. There were once emblems of honour; now, they were shackles to a destiny I couldn't evade. I halted, staring at my badge. Detective Nora Williams, it read. A name that once commanded respect was now reduced to a murmur in the department hallways. My fingers traced the cold metal, remembering the day I first pinned it to my chest. The anticipation and valour, all of it seemed like a distant dream now. I rushed to my car, my head pounding. The streets blurred as I drove, pursuing a lunatic who had long since become my own personal demon. A psychopath who preyed on innocent minors leaving a trail of blood and broken lives, including mine. The city was just beginning to stir, unaware of the darkness that lurked in its remaining shadows. I passed by the local high school, its vacant parking lot a stark reminder of the lives lost and futures stolen. How many times had I stood in front of those grieving parents, promising justice I could never deliver? For the 37th time, I relived those final, fateful moments. My desperate shrieks still echoed in my mind as I tried to warn myself, to change the unchangeable. But the universe remained stubbornly unresponsive to my pleas. The warehouse loomed ahead, a dialpidated monument to my failure. I could witness myself, gun drawn, approaching the rusted door. The creak of metal, the flash of movement, the searing pain across my throat - it all played out in vivid detail. At 6:00 AM sharp, reality snapped back into focus. I found myself hovering over my own lifeless body, throat slit, lying in a crimson pool. My colleagues arrived, their reactions were a spectrum of grief and detachment. Some wept openly, while others scrolled mindlessly on their phones, already distancing themselves from the horror. Captain Vickters, my mentor and friend, knelt beside my lifeless form. Her weathered face, usually stoic, crumpled in anguish. "Heaven's sake, Nova," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You were supposed to wait for backup". Desperation tore through me. "See me!" I wanted to scream. "Remember me!" But my voice was lost to the void, my life's work seemingly erased in an instant. As the captain zipped up the body bag, I felt a piece of myself fade away. Was this how it ended? Years of devotion and nights spent poring over case files, all led to this moment of defeat. Seeking solace, I drifted to the comfort of my home, shutting out the world. As I stared at my alarm clock, a flicker of hope ignited. Perhaps tomorrow, the cycle would break. Perhaps someone would finally unravel the mystery of my murder, allowing my sleepless spirit to find peace. My apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt like a mausoleum. Photos on the walls chronicled a life cut short - graduation day at the academy, my first arrest, holidays with a family I could no longer touch. Each image was a reminder of what I'd lost and what I'd failed to protect. Until then, I remained trapped in this limbo, reliving my final moments. A detective, even in death, desperately searching for the clues to my own demise. Days blended into weeks, weeks into months. Each morning, the same routine played out like a macabre Shakespearean tragedy. I watched helplessly as my case grew cold, my killer still at large. The weight of mysteries and unfulfilled justice bore down on my spectral form. The precint bustled with activity, but my desk sat untouched, a shrine to a fallen officer. My partner, Ryan, would sometimes sit there, leafing through my notes, searching for something we might have missed. His determination gave me hope, even as I saw the toll it was taking on him. I followed him on stakeouts, whispering leads he couldn't hear. I stood beside him as he interviewd witnesses, pleading for someone to remember that crucial detail that would break the case wide open. But my words fell on deaf ears and my presence remained unfelt. In quiet moments, I found myself drawn to places I once loved - the park where I used to read my novels and the small coffee house where I'd buy my morning latte. But now, I was nothing more than a whisper in the wind, unnoticed and forgotten by the world I once protected. I watched as life moved on without me. My parents, grief-stricken, packed up my appartent. My older sister named her newborn daughter after me, a bittersweet tribute. Friends gathered on my birthday, sharing stories and raising a toast to my memory. I longed to join them and feel the warmth of human connection once more. As another cycle began, I clung to a desperate hope. Someone, somewhere out there, must hold the key to my freedom. Until then, I would continue my eternal vigil, a ghost trapped between worlds, searching for the truth that would finally set me free. The alarm blared again, 5:47 AM, another day, another chance. I steeled myself for what was to come, knwoning that each repetition brought its own unique torture. Yet I refused to give up. In life, I had been relentless in pursuit of justice. In death, I would be no different. As I prepared to live my final moments once more, a new determination filled me. I would observe more closely and listen more attentively. Perhaps in the minutiae of those repeated seconds, I would find the hint that had eluded me for so long. The warehouse door creaked open. This time I noticed a faint scent, cologne, expensive and somewhat familiar. I saw a shadow move differently, I heard a breath catch in a way it hadn't before. Small detailed, inconsequential alone, but toegther they formed a picture I had been blind to. As the knife sliced through the air, realization dawned. The killer's face, hidden in shadow, suddenly came into focus. Recogntion hit me like a physical blow. It couldn't be... but it was. The cycle reset, but this time, everything had changed. I now knew the face of my murderer and understood the depth of the betrayal. Armed with this knowledge, I faced the new day with renewed purpose. Somehow, I would make the truth known. Justice would be served, not just for me, but for all the innocent lives lost. For the first time since my death, I felt the spark of something long forgotten - faith. The road ahead would be long and fraught with challenges, but I was Detective Nova Williams. Solving impossible cases was what I did best. And this time, failure was not an option. As the sun rose on another day in my eternal investigation, I prepared myself for the battle ahead. Ghost or not, I would see this through to the end. My story wasn't over yet, it was just beginning.

5:47 AM

Maria

Maria Kokoni

Share

5:47 AM

Synopsis

Chapters

Word Count

Read Time

Publish Date

Story Updates

This story has no updates.

Reviews

This story has not been rated yet. Login to review this story.

Advertisement

Challenge

About Author

Maria

Advertisement

Browse