I Didn't Take These | Episode 1

Our narrator finds a photo in his gallery that he didn't capture...

Photo by Adrian Swancar on Unsplash

Lately, I’ve been having nightmares — dreams full of violence, screams, and blood.

Last night was no different. I woke up trembling, my eyes wide open, and my heart trying to escape from my chest. The dream of a blond girl running away from a knife-wielding psychopath burned under my eyelids.

You are still in your bed, at home, everything is alright.

It took me a couple minutes sitting at the edge of my bed to catch my breath. Cool fresh water from the glass on my bedside table helped me to calm down. By sole muscle memory, I tried to grab my phone to check for time but there was nothing there, just a charging cable.

That’s weird.

I must’ve unplugged it during some half-asleep moment in the night. I blindly reached and searched around myself until I laid a hand on a cold brick under my pillow.

There you are.

A sharp white light stung my eyes.

4:14.

I shook my head.

Three more hours before the alarm. Better get back to sleep.

The phone was almost dead, about 5%, which was also weird because I put it on charge when I went to bed, and it had around 40% battery left. I didn't pay much mind to it.

I heard a happy ding as the small battery icon appeared on the home screen and I laid back down. It took me a while to fall asleep again, but the dreams fortunately decided to calm down and let me rest until dawn.

The next morning I overslept. With eyes glued together by sleepines, I packed my things in a rush and left for work without much thought, except that I had to make the next bus. Which I managed to do with a swift morning jog.

Little out of breath, I jumped on the bus and thanked the driver with a nod. There weren't that many people going on this line so I sat down and began to mindlessly scroll through my phone.

A notification came — one of those where your phone shows you a memory from the photo gallery. Curious I clicked on it. Huh? the whole collage was just dark photos with absolutely nothing in them.

I must’ve accidentally taken these from my pocket or something. I pressed the little trash can icon and slowly deleted them, but when I was deleting the last one, something caught my eye.

Is that… my front door? No... Mine is beige, this seems more like blueish...

“Green Lane station,” said the announcement and I almost dropped my phone.

Jesus Christ.

I jumped off the bus and ran the rest of the way to work. In the rush the thoughts about the photo disappeared. With an outstretched tongue and heavy breathing, I sat down at my desk and began to slowly make my way through dozens of emails and spreadsheets.

Pretty much nothing was happening, as per usual. My mind went half-numb from filling the columns in Excel and sending over numbers to my colleague who clearly can't read.

“Did you hear?” a loud voice appeared behind me.

I raised my eyes in shock. Marilyn, a colleague of mine, was standing at the door. I probably looked confused enough so she didn't bother waiting for an answer.

“A woman was found dead in your neighborhood!"

“What? Who... Where?"

“Pretty close to your house, actually, like a block away or something. It’s all over the news. Murder they say, a brutal one at that. Some blondie, cute as a button. Allison... something.”

“Allison Carter?”

“Yeah, I think so. Do you know her?"

I nodded, shaken by the news. Another one? It's getting out of hand.

“Yeah. I mean I did... a little bit. I met her a few times in a café down the street, she used to sit there with her laptop and work all day. We talked a couple of times.”

There was a long pause after that and even Marilyn could probably tell, that I was not feeling very well so she awkwardly looked at her phone as if she was getting a call.

“I gotta go. Be safe out there. It’s happening a little bit too often lately…”

“Yeah… thanks.”

She left, and I sat there wondering what am I going to do. More locks? A gun? If there is a maniac stalking around our homes, I need to be prepared.

I went home early. I said I was not feeling well, but everyone knew what was really happening and they didn't say anything. Truth be told I felt awful. My stomach was tightened into a knot and I felt like vomiting on my way home.

I almost locked the door, before they even fully closed. I bolted down all of the windows and checked again. I fell down on the couch, I heard the blood pumping in my veins, my heart hammering. I was exhausted.

What now? What am I supposed to do?

This mania of mine lasted for about an hour before I finally got hold of my thoughts and got some sense into myself.

Nobody is coming to get you. You are safe.

I sat straight and with a deep exhale I turned on the news.

A photo of a blonde girl and her house with crime scene tape all around it — Allison’s death was everywhere. Any channel I switched Allison's face was there. I couldn't.

A blonde girl and a house...a house with blue doors...

My mind suddenly remembered the photos from this morning. I fumbled for my phone and dropped it before unlocking it.

"Goddamnit!"

I picked it up and went straight to the gallery. The dark photo popped up. I went into editing mode and pushed the brightness all the way to the max. My heart stopped beating.

The photo was taken in front of Allison’s house.

Cold sweat broke out on my back. Questions flooded my brain. How did it get into my phone? What was in the other pictures? I frantically looked into the deleted folder, but as I always do, I had taken them off my phone entirely.

What the fuck... what the fuck?!

I sat there puzzled for hours. Mindlessly switching between the doors in the forever repeating news reports and on my phone. The same door. It didn't make any sense and the wheels of my mind were spinning too hard for too long - I fell asleep.

The nightmare came again, this time I saw a brunette running around a house, screaming, asking for help, completely hopeless.

The phone camera shutter clicked behind her with a flash of light.

I woke up back in my bed, covered in sweat, struggling to breathe. The dream slipped away from my mind, and my brain slowly regained consciousness. But I almost wished it hadn't.

I knew the girl from the dream. She lived just a couple of houses down.

Wait… I fell asleep on my couch…

The nightmare replayed itself in my head. The camera... someone was taking pictures of her...

With a shaking hand, I reached for my phone. My thumb stopped above the gallery.

Don’t be crazy… this all is just a big coincidence.

I clicked on the little colorful icon, and a series of photos appeared on the screen.

This time they were taken in a better lighting.

My stomach did a 360, and I threw up on the ground next to my bed.

All of the photos had a slaughtered brunette in them…

Thank you for being here for another dose of fiction. If you know of someone who would love to take a hit as well - send him my way

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Episode 2 →

I Didn't Take These | Episode 2

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