The Prediction

21st June 2000,

The weather was extreme but yet the Sheriff didn't postpone the event. Everyone was invited and it was compulsory to attend it.

Many were scared to come but they had their reasons, the disappearances. It was extreme cold when I left for the festival. I bumped into someone and fell but as i stood up to apologize, there was no one. It was a dark empty street.

After reaching at the event's venue, this was the first time I had seen people gathered after dark. But the figure, I could feel it. It was somewhere near. And it wanted to show me something but I didn't know what.

Several minutes later the event started and I saw a cute little child running here and there. But something didn't seem right. The town square was alive—string lights flickered, laughter echoed, and the scent of roasted chestnuts filled the air. But something was wrong.

The lights weren't just flickering. They were dying—one by one, in a slow, deliberate pattern. Like footsteps approaching.

And then I saw the huge figure. He was standing right before me but I knew that I could only see it. "The little girl laughed as he ran, weaving through the crowd. But then—he stopped.

His shadow stretched unnaturally, twisting like it had a mind of its own. His mouth opened in a silent scream before his body convulsed—

And then—nothing. Just air where he once stood. Everyone was at the scene and could see it. Not the figure but the disappearance of the child.

I could see the terror in the people's eyes, they were frozen. The child's mother came forward her eyes filled with tears. A black cloud covered the town. It seemed like the boy was just an excuse. The figure was trying to take someone else. And then I froze. The figure was doing what it said to me last night, destroying everything. This was the end. No it was the beginning of the end.

Your Owner,

Detective...

"Ethan, seriously? A diary that predicts the future? A shadowy figure? You've been watching too many horror movies."

But even as she laughed, she rubbed her arms, as if the air had suddenly turned colder.

I had never ever lied to Lila, she was my best friend. Even though I stayed locked up in my room most of the time, she was always by my side. 

"Lila, I'm really not lying, I've experienced it. You could even ask Emily."

"Who? Emily Harper, the librarian."

"Exactly."

"You got to be kidding me. Librarians as much as I know have read a lot of books and most of the time they mislead people to imaginations."

"Okay. But don't you trust me, even a little. I now understand how to explain this to you. There is an event tonight do you remember that. You're going right?", I asked her

"Obviously, the first event in this entire year."

"You've read the diary's entry now. Now lets see what is going to happen this night."

After saying this I took the diary and left for home to apologize to Hannah about what happened yesterday.

As I reached home, she had locked herself in her room. I knocked. "Hannah, open the door. Look, I am sorry for what happened last night. I brought you another gift."

And suddenly she opened the door. "Where is it?".

"I am the gift."

"Ethan!, you liar." she got angry and then she burst up into a laugh.

I kissed her cheek and went upstairs to keep the Diary. But I was drowning in my own thoughts.

Who was this detective? What did he meant by saying that the child was just an excuse?

I flipped through the diary again, desperate for answers. My heartbeat hammered in my ears.

The words I'd read before—were they different now?

'This is the end.'

No, that wasn't there before. I was sure of it.

The ink shimmered. A new sentence appeared.

'You shouldn't have come here, Ethan.'

I slammed the book shut.

I wanted to get out of this for once so I took one of mom's cassettes and played it.

When 3 cassettes ended. I looked outside and it was almost dark. I got ready for the festival and went to Lila's. She came downstairs as I called her and we headed out.

The festival buzzed with life—music, laughter, bright lights overhead. But my hands were shaking. The diary in my pocket had turned ice-cold.

I pulled it out, my breath catching.

The ink was fresh. It bled across the page as if someone was still writing.

"Ethan, you need to run."

My throat dried. I looked up. And that's when I saw it—the figure, standing at the edge of the crowd. Watching.

"Ethan, you okay?" Lila asked, nudging my shoulder.

I wasn't. I couldn't be. Because right in the middle of the festival, beneath the glowing string lights and the colorful stalls—the figure.

But no one was casting it.

It slithered across the cobblestone ground, stretching, reaching. It wasn't attached to anyone. And it was moving toward—

The little girl at the cotton candy stand.

And then an old woman dropped her basket, apples rolling across the ground. Her face turned pale as she stared past me, eyes wide in horror.

"No," she whispered. "Not again."

"What?" I followed her gaze, my stomach knotting.

The figure stood at the entrance of the festival.

"You see it?" I asked.

The woman grabbed my arm with icy fingers. "You have to leave. Now."

"Lila, you have to listen to me. Something's—"

"Ethan, stop!" she groaned, rubbing her temples. "You're acting insane."

Then the streetlamp flickered. And for the first time—she saw it.

Her breath hitched. "Oh my god."

She saw the figure and this didn't meant something good.

Lila grabbed my arm, nails digging into my skin.

"Ethan," she whispered. "What do we do?"

Laughter, cheers, music—then darkness.

The entire festival plunged into blackness. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. My pulse pounded in my ears.

And then—just as suddenly—the lights flickered back on.

Someone screamed.

The little girl was missing.

I flipped open the diary, breath unsteady. My fingers trembled as I turned to the latest page.

My stomach dropped.

There it was. Fresh ink, as if someone had just written it.

"Ethan Holloway—Missing. 21st June 2000."

My heart nearly stopped.

It was 12 a.m. right now.

June 21st had started.