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RUN Word count: ~1,230She answered the phone from her own number.It shouldn’t have been possible—her phone was right there, glowing softly on the nightstand, displaying her name and number. A glitch, maybe? But the chill that crawled across her scalp whispered otherwise. She hesitated, thumb hovering. Then she pressed accept."Hello?"Static. Then breathing. Then—her own voice."Run."She froze. It was her. No question. Same lilt, same clipped vowels. She could hear the tremor in it, the urgency, the fear."What? Who is this?""Run now. Don’t ask. Just go!"The call ended with a shrill beep.She sat upright, heart thudding hard enough to make her temples pulse. Her eyes darted to the corners of the dark room. Shadows pressed against the walls like thick oil. Her breath came shallow, shallow, shallow.A dream. It had to be a dream.But her skin prickled with that too-real sensation dreams rarely get right: the taste of adrenaline in her mouth, the cold sting of sweat behind her knees. She picked up her phone. Nothing. No missed calls. No logs. But the time…3:17 AM.The air felt heavier than usual, as if something were watching. She swung her legs out of bed, feet sinking into the cold carpet. The hallway stretched longer than she remembered—walls narrowing, the overhead light dimmer than usual. Her phone buzzed in her hand.Unknown NumberShe answered."You didn’t run," her voice hissed. This time it was cracked. Panicked. "You’re wasting time. It’s coming.""What’s coming?" she whispered, voice shaking."You have thirty seconds. It’s already in the house."The line went dead again.She turned, staring back down the hallway. The bedroom door behind her slowly creaked shut with a soft click.She ran.Down the stairs, through the kitchen, heart in her throat. Her hands fumbled for keys by the door, but they weren’t there. She spun in place, chest heaving, and saw something move just out of view in the reflection of the dark kitchen window.A shape.Tall. Thin. Head cocked at an unnatural angle.She didn’t look back. She sprinted for the front door, but when she pulled it open, it wasn’t her front porch outside—it was her hallway again. Same photos. Same rug. Same closed bedroom door at the end.She slammed it shut and backed away, breath coming in wheezing gasps."This isn’t real," she whispered.She turned and ran back toward the stairs. At the top, the door to the bathroom was open. Light spilled out, warm and white.She climbed slowly, one step at a time, trembling. She passed her bedroom. The door creaked as she moved past it, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. The bathroom was calling her now, like a beacon.She stepped inside. The mirror was fogged up, though no one had showered in hours.She wiped it with the heel of her palm.Nothing.Just her pale, wide-eyed reflection.But behind her, in the reflection, the hallway was gone.Only darkness.Her phone buzzed again. This time, no number at all. Just CALLING... in gray letters.She answered."Ten seconds left." Her voice. Closer now. Right behind her. "You’re out of time."She spun, but there was nothing.Then everything shifted—She woke up.Gasping.Sheets tangled around her legs. Her room was quiet, dim with the blue haze of early morning. Her phone lay on the nightstand, unmoving.A dream.It was just a dream.She lay back down, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite come out right. Her body still shook with residual panic, but it was fading. Like dreams always did.She rolled over, pulling the covers up, and drifted into a lighter, uneasy sleep.—The alarm blared at 7:00 AM.She groaned, smacked her phone, and sat up. Everything looked normal. Birds chirped outside. Light filtered through the blinds. She stretched and swung her legs over the side of the bed.That dream had felt too real. Her chest still ached from the panic. She stood slowly, walking toward the bathroom.As she passed the mirror, she paused.The glass was fogged over.Had someone taken a shower?She leaned in, wiping it absently with her hand. Her breath caught.Four letters were etched into the mist, long vertical streaks cutting through the condensation.RUN.Her heart stuttered.A noise came from the hallway. A soft creak. Like a footstep.She turned slowly toward the open bathroom door, eyes wide.There was something in the hallway. A shadow. Standing just out of sight.The mirror, behind her, began to fog again—this time from her breath, fast and shallow.The phone in her hand buzzed.No Caller ID.She didn’t answer.But her voice came anyway, from just behind her ear."You didn’t run."&nbsp;

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RUN!

Sheila62.

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RUN!

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Sheila Tibbs

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