Sincerely, Jennifer x

“Point blank execution in Brazil.”

She scrolled.

“Man transporting a boat gets electrocuted when his head touches the power line.”

She scrolled.

“Girl Walking By Road Is Hit By Car.”

She clicked.

Amelia immediately rolled her eyes, watching the girl strolling across a busy street, with her eyes glued to her phone, as cars sped all around her. 

And then, there she went. 

It was over in seconds. Cars continued to speed past. A girl was dead, and the driver’s life was falling apart, but nobody except Amelia seemed to notice. The world continued to whir on as time ticked by. 

Another dead body. 

Just another dead body. 

Amelia didn’t even have the energy to shrug. She simply clicked back in her browser and continued scrolling, after a quick glance at her empty notifications screen. 

“Ecuador shooting. Lots of blood.” 

She scrolled. 

“Real autopsy video.” 

She scrolled, after another quick glance at her empty notifications screen.

“Pretty girl looks ugly with no skin on her face.” 

She scrolled, and she sighed. 

Death made her feel alive, because her life was pathetically boring. 

She went to work. She went home and ate a bland dinner. She scrolled social media and watched whatever was trending on Netflix. 

She never left comments. 

She never said much out loud at all. 

She faded into the background, and in the rare moments where she was honest, she would give anything to emerge from invisibility for one day. 

Her honesty was fleeting, and so, she spent her nights as she spent her days, bored and unfulfilled, holding onto the times when the night got late and the boredom got too much, when she would open her laptop and sign into DearlyDeparted.com

Nobody saw her, but she saw people, at their very worst. 

She’d found her new habit by accident, but it had come along at just the right time. There was something waiting for her, but Amelia didn’t know it yet. 

“Bored girl meets bad ending.”

She almost scrolled, but as her eyes fell upon the thumbnail, she froze. There was a young woman, her face contorted by a scream. Behind her was nothing. An endless darkness that went on and on, as Amelia surveyed the face and gulped nervously. 

A tingling itch began to spread up the back of her neck as she watched the still screen in silence. It had to be a trick, some kind of prank or sick game. Her eyes were wide, just like the woman in the thumbnail. Brown and filled with tears. Amelia’s hands trembled as she clicked on the play icon, watching herself falling into the bleak depths. 

Motionless and without a word, Amelia watched the clip play again and again, tears glistening across the keyboard as she saw herself falling to her death into darkness. 

She felt her stomach drop further each time that the vision played, but she couldn’t look away. 

The looping clip was a surreal, horrifying mirror. Amelia’s hands were clammy against the edges of her desk, her breathing shallow as though she were suffocating alongside her on-screen doppelgänger. It was her. The face in the thumbnail, the terror-stricken scream, the unmistakable scar along her jawline that she’d gotten from a fall when she was ten—it was undeniably her.  

Her trembling fingers hovered over the mouse, debating whether to close the browser. She wanted to stop watching, desperately, but some invisible force urged her to keep replaying the scene. There was no sound accompanying the video, only the unnerving image of her falling, arms flailing in panic, until the black abyss swallowed her whole. Each replay deepened her dread, as if the void in the video was reaching through the screen, pulling her closer.  

Amelia’s head throbbed as a wave of nausea crashed over her. Her mind was racing, the edges of her vision dimming. What was this? A premonition? A curse? She pushed herself back from the desk, the chair screeching against the wooden floor, but the image stayed burned behind her eyelids. Even when she shut her eyes, she could see herself tumbling downward, endlessly.  

A sudden, sharp knock at the front door broke the suffocating silence, sending her heart into her throat. Amelia jumped, her pulse pounding erratically as her body jolted upright. For a second, she just stared at the door as if expecting it to swing open of its own accord. Her small flat felt impossibly quiet now, save for the faint ringing in her ears.  

Knock, knock, knock. The sound came again, louder this time, and Amelia’s breath caught. It was late—far too late for visitors.   

“Hello?” she called out hesitantly, her voice thin and shaky. There was no response. Just an unbearable pause.  

She approached the door cautiously, wiping tears from her face with her sleeve. With trembling hands, she reached for the peephole and leaned in, peering through. The distorted view outside revealed nothing but the dimly lit corridor. No shadows. No figures.  

Her hand hovered over the doorknob. Something deep inside her screamed not to open it, but curiosity gnawed at her. She pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear any sound on the other side.  

Another knock, louder than the last, reverberated through the wood. She stumbled back with a gasp, her breath catching in her throat. Whatever was out there, it wasn’t going to wait forever.

Amelia’s shaking fingers finally gripped the doorknob, her breath caught in her chest as she turned it ever so slowly. The door creaked open an inch, then another, until the dim corridor came into view. No one was there. The silence pressed down on her like a weight, thick and oppressive. She stepped forward cautiously, her heart pounding against her ribs. That was when she saw it. A single envelope lying on the floor just outside her door.

It was stark white, with no name, no address. Nothing but a wax seal pressed into the flap, an unfamiliar symbol embossed into the crimson wax—something resembling an eye surrounded by jagged lines, almost like a sunburst. Amelia crouched down to pick it up, her fingers trembling as she tore the envelope open. 

Inside was a single sheet of paper, the handwriting uneven, scrawled almost as if in haste. Her stomach flipped as she read the words, her mind stumbling over the message.  

“You are seen. You will be seen. Always.”

She stumbled backward, the letter falling from her hands as if it burned. The paper fluttered to the ground, the words staring up at her, their presence a taunt. Her eyes darted down the corridor again, but it was eerily empty. Slamming the door shut, she bolted it, her shaking hands struggling with the lock.

For a long time, she stood there, clutching the handle and staring at the discarded letter on the floor. What did it mean? Who could have left it? The eye on the wax seal and the ominous words twisted her stomach into knots.  

Eventually, exhaustion overtook her fear. She dragged herself to bed, though the tension in her body wouldn’t ease. Lying in the dark, she couldn’t help but replay the events in her mind—the video, the knock at the door, the letter. She pulled the covers up to her chin, as though they could shield her from whatever was out there.  

But sleep brought no peace. The nightmares came swiftly, pulling her into the same dark abyss from the video. She was falling, just as she had seen herself do, the air rushing past her ears. She screamed, but no sound came. Her outstretched hands reached for something, anything, to hold onto, but the void offered nothing. Just as she hit the bottom, her eyes snapped open, and she was back in her room.  

Except it wasn’t just her room. Standing in the corner, just beyond the faint glow of her bedside lamp, was a figure—a silhouette, almost featureless but undeniably watching. It didn’t move, didn’t speak. Its presence felt like a smothering blanket of dread, choking the air from the room.  

Amelia tried to scream, but her voice stuck in her throat. The figure tilted its head slightly, like it was studying her. Then, she blinked, and it was gone. She was left in silence, her sheets soaked with sweat and her body trembling uncontrollably.  

But even as the room emptied of its presence, the words from the letter echoed in her mind, louder than ever.  

“You are seen. You will be seen. Always.”

With a few hours of sleep, and a pounding headache, Amelia headed into work the next day. She tried to forget the night before, but it played on her mind all the same. 

The office was a fluorescent-lit labyrinth of desks and muted conversations, a sterile monotony that bored her to tears. That day, however, was different, the air felt heavy, and she couldn’t keep her mind on anything but the night before. She sat at her desk, staring blankly at the spreadsheet on her screen, her fingers poised over the keyboard but unmoving. The world around her felt muffled, and the more she tried to focus, the further it seemed to slip from her.

She felt it again. That prickling sensation at the nape of her neck. Her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she turned her head, scanning the rows of desks and the clusters of her coworkers. Nothing. Just the usual shuffle of papers and the occasional sound of laughter. But the feeling didn’t fade. It wouldn’t leave her, because there was so much more to see.

Her screen flickered. The spreadsheet dissolved into static, and her reflection appeared faintly in the monitor, distorted by the interference. She froze as the faint outline of something else appeared behind her—a tall, shadowy figure, its edges blurred like smoke. Its presence was palpable, radiating an icy dread that settled deep into her chest. 

No one else seemed to notice. The office carried on as if nothing was amiss. Amelia’s heart pounded as she stared at the screen, too terrified to turn around. The figure leaned closer, its shape becoming clearer. It was featureless, its head elongated and tilting unnaturally to one side, like it was curious about her. The air around her grew colder, and her breath fogged in front of her.

Then came the voice—not spoken aloud, but inside her mind. A deep, resonant hum that filled every corner of her consciousness.  

“See.” 

The word echoed through her mind, and suddenly her vision blurred. The office around her dissolved, replaced by rushing water as panic pounced upon her. She was submerged in a dark, frigid current, her lungs burning as she struggled to reach the surface. Her arms flailed, but the water was thick, viscous, dragging her down. She tried to scream, but her mouth filled with icy liquid. She could see nothing but the undulating darkness pressing in from every side, her movements growing weaker as her strength ebbed away.

Through the rushing water, she saw it—the shadowy figure. It was standing on the surface above her, perfectly still, watching. Its head tilted once more, a gesture almost mocking, as though it were savouring her panic. Its arms stretched out toward her, impossibly long and tapering into claws of smoke.  

Amelia clawed at the water, desperate to escape, but the figure’s presence was suffocating. It wasn’t just watching her drown; it was holding her under. Its power pressed against her chest, crushing her ribs, squeezing the air from her lungs.  

She gasped, and suddenly, she was back in the office, the vision snapping away like a rubber band. She was slumped over her desk, her coworkers staring at her with a mix of confusion and concern. Someone was saying her name, their voice sharp with worry, but it sounded distant, like it was coming from another room.

Amelia’s hands shook as she looked back at the screen. The spreadsheet was back, unremarkable and ordinary, as though nothing had happened. But she could still feel the cold water in her lungs, the phantom pressure of the entity’s grasp. Her reflection in the monitor stared back at her, wide-eyed and trembling. 

And in the corner of the screen, faint but unmistakable, was the shape of the shadowy figure, watching her still.

She began to see it everywhere. The shadow, and all of the things it insisted that she see. 

Every time she closed her eyes, she was lost in a sickening scene, and every dream left her tangled in terror. 

She saw herself mangled in metal as her car crashed into the side of the road, watching her helpless hands shake as they scraped against the window in one last call for help. She felt the flames on her face as the flat burned to ash, watching her skin wrinkle and wither as the fire ate away at her flesh. Again and again, so many sickening images flooded her mind, and every night she would plead with the shadow, watching it watch her, with alarming indifference as she waited for relief that could never come. 

Amelia became a ghost of herself. The curtains in her flat remained perpetually drawn, the outside world reduced to muted glimpses of sunlight that filtered through the gaps. Her phone lay untouched on the counter, buzzing occasionally with missed calls and unanswered messages. She didn’t dare leave the flat—she couldn’t. The fear of it finding her out there, in the open, was too overwhelming. She told herself she was safe at home, behind locked doors and bolted windows, though deep down, she knew the entity could reach her anywhere.

She began humming to herself when the visions began, picturing sunsets and rainbows as the shadows clouded and consumed each barrier she raised. 

The days blurred into one another. She barely ate, barely slept. The silence of her home felt as oppressive as the entity’s presence, but at least there, she could try to ignore it. That was until the scratching started again.

It began one evening as she sat on the couch, the only light in the flat coming from the flickering television. A faint, rhythmic sound reached her ears, like nails raking against the ceiling. She froze, her body tense, her eyes darting upward. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it—the sound had come and gone for days now—but that night it was louder. Closer.

Her heart hammered as she stood and moved toward the window, her feet dragging like lead. Peeling back the curtain, she squinted out into the night. Her building overlooked the city, a dizzying drop from the fifth floor to the pavement below. The rooftops stretched out under the pale glow of the moon, empty except for the usual clutter of vents and antennas.

And then she saw it. A flicker of movement. Looming atop a neighbouring building, the shadowy figure stood, its form stark against the pale sky. It was waiting. Watching.

Amelia staggered back from the window, her breath hitching. Her instincts screamed at her to stay inside, to hide, but a strange pull gnawed at her, a compulsion she couldn’t resist. Her feet carried her to the front door before her mind could catch up. She unlocked it with trembling hands and stepped into the corridor, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. She didn’t question why her neighbours’ doors were shut tight, or why the building felt so eerily quiet. She was being drawn, her body no longer fully her own.

The rooftop access door creaked open with a metallic groan, and the icy night air hit her like a slap. Her thin jumper did little to shield her from the chill, but she kept moving. The pull was stronger now, guiding her toward the edge of the roof. The shadowy figure was there, waiting for her, its form rippling as though made of smoke and darkness.  

As she approached, her breath came in shallow gasps. The figure extended an arm—long, impossibly thin, and tapering into shadowy wisps. Amelia hesitated, her shoes scraping against the cold concrete. A voice, low and resonant, filled her mind, though it wasn’t quite words. It was an urging, a command wrapped in dread.

“Come closer.”

Her legs shook, her body betraying her will. Step by step, she approached the edge, the city sprawling out below her like a grid of stars. The wind whipped her hair around her face as the void between her and the figure seemed to close. She was teetering now, the toes of one foot over the edge, gravity tugging at her with such longing. For a moment, she thought she might fall—not because the figure pushed her, but because it wanted her to choose.

And then it spoke again, with an almost mocking softness.  

“Let me see you, sweet darling.”

The ground seemed to lurch beneath her feet, and she stumbled backward with a cry, collapsing onto the cold rooftop, recoiling as a loud crack filled the air and her head throbbed with pain.

The darkness drew her back to the edge, no matter how much she fought. She crawled, tears trickling down onto the ground, swirling with blood as it fell.

Amelia clattered to the floor, clutching her head in her hands as a scream escaped her lips. Her hand was coated in blood as her fingers tangled in her hair, but still, she went on, forcing herself back to her hands and knees as the shadow beckoned her. 

“The time is almost upon us, my darling.”

She reached the edge of the roof, her heart racing as the city swam into view. The sky was bleak and bereft of stars, and the night was cold and quiet. Perhaps nobody would notice if she was taken by the darkness? She began to wonder, what it was to be nothing at all, and as she felt the shadow’s weight atop her, she began to wonder what it was to remain nothing at all, forever. 

Suddenly, everything mattered so much, and the thought of nothing was too much to bear. 

Amelia choked, wiping the blood from her eyes as she felt herself standing from the ground. She couldn’t remember the thought that led her legs, or when exactly she had decided to take a step over the edge, and all at once, she began to realise that she hadn’t, for she belonged to something else entirely, and perhaps, she always had. 

“What if nobody remembers me?” She shook with sobs, clutched in the claws of the presence. “What if I don’t want this?” Tears trembled upon her lips as blood conquered her tongue and she fell, weak and defeated at the mercy of the air, enveloped in an embrace that seemed almost tender. “What if I never mattered at all?” The creature pulled her weary head to face it as they plummeted towards the ground, its dark eyes shining in the last of the solemn moonlight, visible to her for the very first time. 

“But darling, you’ll remember.” Through a rosy haze, she saw the thing, surrounded by women, each of them warped by their war wounds, but together, so familiar, falling with her, with beautiful, peaceful smiles. “And so will I.” Her own eyes watched her, from the collection of corpses that rained with them down towards the ground, and though she cried, she finally understood.