Game of Reflections

He looked up at his watch: it was long past midnight. There was silence outside, broken only by the occasional crackle of old radiators. Rick put on his jacket, carefully buttoning it up to his throat. The cold coming through the window slits suggested that outside the window the night would greet him with a frosty breath. 

As he opened the door, he felt a sharp gust of winter air even in the entryway. Going down the elevator and going to the door, he saw the first snow, covering the ground with a white blanket, crunching under the feet of rare passers-by. The city was shrouded in silence, the lanterns illuminated only small islands of sidewalks, casting long shadows on the frosted facades of houses. 

"What a lazy guy I am..." he thought with a slight grin. — "It would be worth getting out more often, and not just rushing around the virtual worlds."His phone vibrated in his pocket, causing him to be distracted for a moment. After taking it out, Rick noticed a new message from his sister. 

"I'll be back tomorrow, brother, I'm late. I kiss you, your Micah." 

A faint smile appeared on his face. Mika... was the only person whose presence gave him a feeling of warmth. She was like a beacon to him in the endless darkness, always caring, always there for him—even from a distance. 

Finally, Rick stepped outside, and the cold night air blew over his face. The city was asleep, shrouded in winter silence. Rare passersby hurriedly crossed the streets, wrapped in scarves and hats, and the sounds of their footsteps quickly disappeared into the frosty air. 

Rick looked up, watching the steam billowing out of his mouth. The world around him was silent and calm, but something was moving inexorably inside him. Was it a desire to break out of the usual routine or just a quiet longing? He didn't know. But the night, cold and serene, seemed to be preparing to reveal something new to him. 

"The world is no less harsh here than it is there," he thought, his gaze sliding down the empty street. 

And yet, there was something strangely comforting about this winter's peace. He put his hands in his pockets and walked towards the nearest store, slowly, but at the same time cautiously, as if he were continuing his journey in a virtual universe. Rick walked thoughtfully along the road, lost in thought. The weak light of the lanterns fell on his figure, outlining the drops of melted snow that flowed from the branches of the trees. 

"This raid was good... But that's not enough. Tomorrow we need to go deeper," he mused, breaking through the maze of his strategies. The picture of the next campaign loomed in his head with frightening clarity: more bosses, rare artifacts, unexpected twists. Every step was thought out. "Maybe I'll knock out something worthwhile." 

The ringing tremor of the phone in his pocket snapped him out of his reverie. A slight irritation passed over his face—who could write at such an hour? He didn't hurry to take out the device until the vibration stopped. 

An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen, and a message appeared below it. 

"You're playing well, Rick_sailen. But you can't even imagine what awaits you next." 

Rick froze. The icy wind burned his face, but he didn't seem to feel it. His gaze clung to the lines as his brain desperately tried to comprehend what he had read. 

"Rick_silen...?" — he whispered almost inaudibly, as if the name was a stranger to him. It's his gaming nickname, but who the hell would know him here, outside of the virtual world? 

His fingers tightened on the phone, and his thoughts whirled. "Who is this? A random joke? Or did someone from the former team decide to play a prank on me?" But something in the tone of the text did not let me calm down. It wasn't just a challenge or a joke. Every word seemed to be written with intent, with cold calculation. 

He slowly looked around the street. The empty road, the muffled sounds of the night city, and the sparse silhouettes of passersby. No one looked suspicious. And yet, the feeling of being watched pierced him. 

"Next? What do they mean by that?" A shadow of concern crossed his face, but he immediately pulled himself together. The message could just be an empty threat. 

Rick exhaled slowly, put his phone in his pocket, and continued on his way. But the thought of that message wouldn't let go of him, boring into his head like a hissing whisper from the shadows. 

The phone vibrated again. Rick glanced at the screen, waiting for the next attack from the unknown. This time, the message was concise, but it was cold.: 

"The game is just beginning. Good luck." 

He slowly put the phone back in his pocket, feeling anxiety gradually cover him. "It's kind of stupid. Probably someone I met on the raid," he thought, trying to convince himself that this was just someone's joke. But even his inner voice sounded uncertain. 

"Wait, though... Holy shit! Nobody knows this number except Mika?! What the fuck?" The thought struck like a hammer. A minute ago, he would have laughed at this, but now everything inside is tense. 

"If this is a joke from Mika..." an idea flashed through his mind, but Rick quickly dismissed it. His sister wasn't capable of such pranks. Especially after he once promised to throw away her favorite collection of figurines if she ever did that to him again. 

Rick looked around again, trying not to panic. The deserted streets, covered with snow, seemed lifeless. A stray dog ran somewhere in the distance, its tracks in the snow immediately hidden by the incoming wind. Behind him, the lights of a passing taxi flashed in the dim light of a street lamp.

"Calm down. It's just that someone decided to have some fun. Nothing unusual, Rick told himself, but his feet picked up on their own. The vague feeling of being watched made him pull his hood even tighter. 

A few minutes later, he reached a small 24-hour cafe on the corner. The warm light and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted him like an old friend, offering him a break. Rick stood at the entrance for a moment, and then resolutely went inside. 

—Black coffee, please," he said, taking out his wallet. 

Rick took the glass and sat down at a table by the window. Outside, the snowstorm was intensifying, obscuring the outlines of houses and streetlights. He took a sip thoughtfully, feeling the hot drink warming him. 

Suddenly, the phone vibrated again. Rick tensed, preparing to read something strange. But this time the message was from Mika.: 

"Little brother, are you sure you're home? I had a strange dream that someone was watching you... Just check the locks before going to bed, okay?" 

A chill went down his spine. He thought for a moment, and then glanced at the window, behind which a swirl of snow danced in time with his rapid heartbeat. 

"A coincidence? Or something more?" It flashed through his mind. 

Rick snorted, trying to shake off the nagging feeling of anxiety, but a chill ran down his spine, stubbornly reminding him that something was wrong. He slowly turned over his shoulder, looking around the empty cafe room. No one. Just the soft crackle of the coffee machine in the corner and the soft clink of cups behind the bar. 

"It's okay," he muttered to himself, but his own words sounded unconvincing. 

After finishing his coffee, Rick felt that his taste had become bitter, as if the drink had absorbed all the tension of the moment. He automatically checked his phone, but the screen was silent. No new messages. This strange "peace" strained him more than if the messages had continued. 

He left a few bills on the table and left the cafe. It became even quieter outside — the snowfall turned the city into a silent kingdom, covering the sidewalks with a fluffy blanket. Lanterns dimly illuminated the streets, their light reflected in the icy paths. 

Rick sauntered home, lost in thought.: 

"I'll come back and check the IP address. It's probably someone from the raid. Maybe he decided to settle the score. Anyway, I'll find out who it is." 

He tried to convince himself that everything that was happening was just someone's joke, but the strange feeling of someone else's gaze boring into the back of his head wouldn't let go. He looked back twice, but the street behind him remained lifeless. Only his own footprints trailed across the snow, shimmering in the lamplight. 

The silence was suddenly broken by a barely audible sound. At first, there was a slight creak, similar to the slipping of shoes on ice, then the crunching of snow. 

Rick stopped abruptly. 

"Who's there?" His voice sounded hollow in the snowy silence. 

He turned around slowly. The street behind him was empty, as before. But when I looked at the snow under the streetlight, I noticed a barely discernible shadow that flashed and immediately disappeared around the corner of the building. 

"Damn it," he muttered, feeling a chill run down his spine. 

Pulling himself together, Rick quickened his pace, trying to stay in the light of the lanterns. His every move seemed unnecessarily loud in the silence of the night city. But despite his efforts, the anxiety was getting stronger, like a snowstorm that was now howling somewhere in the distance. 

The shadow no longer appeared, but the feeling that he was not alone did not leave Rick. 

When he reached his entrance, his fingers were trembling slightly as he entered the intercom code. "Nonsense," he tried to reassure himself, entering the warm entrance and brushing the snow off his shoes. 

His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as he approached the elevator. The elevator was going up and down on the screen of blinking numbers, and Rick tiredly pressed the call button. 

For a moment, he felt strange. The elevator stopped when it reached the first floor, but the doors did not open immediately. Rick took a step back, peering intently at the metal doors. 

With a soft buzz, the doors finally opened. The elevator was empty. He went inside, but when the doors started to close, his gaze accidentally caught on the window opposite the entrance. 

A figure stood motionless outside, under a dim streetlight. A black silhouette, indistinct due to the dense snow cover, stared straight at him. 

"Who is this?" It flashed through Rick's mind instantly. He tensed, but when he blinked, he found that the figure had disappeared. 

The doors closed. Inside the elevator, he felt the tension build up, and cold sweat trickled down his back. Rick clenched his fists, trying to stop shaking.

The elevator stopped on his floor, and he was about to step out into the dark corridor. The light above his apartment door flickered and then went out. 

Rick froze for a moment at the elevator exit, staring intently into the darkness in front of him. The corridor, which usually seemed so serene and familiar, now seemed to breathe a hidden threat. 

—Great, the light bulb went out, too," he muttered, trying to stay calm, even though his heart was pounding louder than the sound of footsteps. 

Rick went to his door and felt for the keys in his pocket. His fingers, trembling slightly, caught on the fabric for a moment before he pulled out the bunch and inserted the key into the lock. 

But before he turned it around, he felt a cold wind pass through his body, as if someone was breathing on his back. Rick whirled around. 

The corridor remained empty. Only the muffled sound of the wind outside the windows reminded him that he was not alone in the universe. 

- "Paranoia. Pure paranoia," he exhaled softly and quickly turned the key, pushing the door open. 

It was dark and quiet inside the apartment. He stepped inside, instinctively locking the door behind him and double checking that all the locks were locked. 

Rick took off his shoes and reached for the light switch. A click and nothing happened. The light didn't turn on. 

"Really? Did they also cut off the electricity?" 

He took out his phone, activated the flashlight and went deeper into the apartment. A ray of light picked out familiar shapes from the darkness: a sofa, a table, a computer. Everything was in its place. 

But the feeling that someone was watching him wouldn't let go. 

When he reached the room, he turned the light on the window. The curtains were slightly ajar, and Rick moved closer to pull them shut. For a moment, his gaze slid outside, and he felt his heart skip a beat. 

In the distance, under a weak street lamp, the same black figure stood again. Motionless. Without a face, without features, just a shadow that stared at his window. 

—Damn it!" "What is it?" he blurted out. 

There was a sharp jerk, and the curtains closed with a bang. Rick retreated against the wall, his breath coming in short gasps, and beads of cold sweat trickled down his back. My chest felt tight, as if an invisible hand was holding my breath. 

The phone buzzed, the vibration breaking the disturbing silence of the room. For a moment, he just stared at the screen, not daring to look at the device. But his gaze involuntarily slid down. Thin lines of text flashed on the display. 

Message. 

"You're home. It's good. Now we can start." 

At the same moment, electricity was turned on, the monitor turned on itself, and instead of the usual desktop, an inscription appeared in large font.: 

"You've returned home. But are you sure you came back alone?" 

Rick recoiled from the monitor, his heart pounding. Panic gripped his mind, but he quickly tried to pull himself together. My fingers ran over the keyboard, but nothing happened. The computer did not respond. The screen glowed with a gloomy inscription for another second, and then went out, leaving the room in complete darkness. 

The silence seemed to thicken, becoming almost tangible. And in that silence, there was a barely discernible sound. A creak. Light, but loud enough to be heard. Right behind him. 

Rick froze, his breath coming in short gasps. For a few seconds, he didn't dare turn around, feeling as if the air around him was filled with something sinister. Then, taking a deep breath, he abruptly turned around. 

Nothing. 

The apartment was empty. The same furniture was arranged, the same books on the shelf, the chair was slightly pulled apart. Only now the space seemed alien. 

"This... just a glitch," he muttered, forcing himself to move. His hand was shaking as he reached for the light switch on the wall. 

Click. The light flashed on, flooding the room with a warm yellow glow. Rick looked around at the familiar surroundings, but the tension wouldn't let go. Everything was in its place. 

He licked his dry lips, went to the computer and tried to reboot it by pressing the power button. The screen blinked, but instead of the usual loading, a new inscription appeared: 

"Do you really think the light can save you?" 

Rick felt an icy chill seep into his bones. He slowly took a step back, then another, until his back was against the wall. 

"Who the hell are you?!"Stop it!" he shouted, but his voice sounded too weak, almost uncertain. 

The monitor went out again, as did the lights in the room. This time, the darkness seemed even thicker, and it seemed to press him down, filling every corner of the room. 

And then there was another sound. The same creaking of the floor, but now much closer. 

Rick froze, breathing faster. Turning on the flashlight on his phone, he carefully illuminated the room. The beam of light trembled with his hand, picking out the outlines of a table, chair, and shelves from the darkness... 

And suddenly he noticed something. 

A figure appeared in the corner of the room where there had been nothing before. Tall, black, as if composed of darkness itself. She stood motionless, but Rick could feel her "gaze" literally burning through him. 

The phone in his hand vibrated. Rick took a quick look at the screen. Message. 

"Run." 

While Rick was standing in a convulsive state, the creature disappeared as suddenly as it appeared when he blinked. 

 "What the fuck?" What the fuck? — Rick ran to the door, with only one goal, to get the fuck as far away from this apartment as possible, but the door jammed. No matter how hard he tried to pull her, it didn't help. And suddenly there was a new sound. Louder, sharper, as if something metallic had fallen to the floor with a crash. The source of the noise was in the bedroom.

Rick froze in place, feeling cold fear wrap around him like invisible chains. His fists clenched instinctively, but his palms were sweating, and he felt the bat he had grabbed from the doorway slip into his hands. 

"It's just a coincidence. It's nothing special," he told himself, but the words sounded fake. His feet carried him to the bedroom on their own, even though his mind was telling him to stop. Every step echoed loudly in the silence of the apartment, as if everything around was silent, waiting for the denouement. 

When he reached the door, its position looked ominous—slightly ajar, as if someone had just walked inside. The darkness that was gathering in the crack seemed impenetrable, as if no light from the corridor penetrated there. 

"Hey, who's there?!" Rick's voice, harsh and full of tension, escaped his lips before he could stop himself. The reflected echo split the silence, but there was no response. 

Rick slowly reached out his hand and gently pushed the door open. It opened with a long creak, reminiscent of the sound of a knife sliding on a grindstone. A narrow beam of light from the hallway fell on the bedroom floor, outlining the bed and the closet next to it. 

He took a step forward, leaving the saving light of the corridor behind him, and pressed the switch. 

The light bulb flashed on, filling the room with yellow light. The bed was unmade, as he had left it in the morning. Everything looked in its place. 

But there was a metal object lying on the floor near the closet. It was a kitchen knife, the one he had kept on the table a few days ago, having forgotten to put it away. The knife obviously couldn't have been here on its own. 

Rick came closer, bending down to pick it up. At that moment, he heard a strange sound—a light, almost inaudible whisper, as if someone was nearby and watching. 

Rick whirled around. His heart began to pound in a frenzied rhythm. The room was empty. 

"Who's there?!" he almost shouted, but his voice was lost in the oppressive silence. 

The only response was the slow, creaking movement of the closet door, which opened slightly, as if inviting a peek inside. 

The room remained empty, as before. No sign of an intruder. But his eyes immediately caught on one detail — his old gaming headset was lying on the floor next to the bed. The one he hadn't used in a long time. It lay neatly, as if someone had put it there on purpose. 

"I definitely put it in the closet..." he whispered faintly, coming closer. 

As soon as he bent down to pick up the headset, the light in the room flickered and went out. In the blink of an eye, everything was plunged into darkness. 

Rick froze, feeling the cold air fill the space around him. He sighed, trying not to panic, but his breathing became uneven and his heart began to pound in his chest. 

And then he heard. Breath. Quiet, slow. He froze, unable to move. The air seemed to constrict in his chest, his skin felt burning, and his heart was beating so fast that it seemed like it was about to burst out. 

"Who the fuck are you?" He managed to keep his composure. But his voice, instead of sounding firm, faltered, barely containing a panic attack. 

There was no response. However, the breathing continued, as if whoever was standing next to him wasn't going to leave. Rick swore he could feel the warmth of someone else's exhale on his neck. 

Unable to bear the horror, he whirled around, stretching his arm forward to strike with the bat, but there was no one behind him. 

At that moment, the light turned on again. The bedroom was the same as before. Silence. The headset was still on the floor. It looked as if nothing had happened. 

But Rick couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. An aching feeling, as if the presence was still in the air, not letting go. 

He took a step forward, but instead of a solid floor, he felt only emptiness. Everything around him spun as if he had fallen into a funnel, and instantly his body was swallowed up by this invisible center. The torchlight faded, and the booming sounds that seemed to come from the very end of the world faded away. The wind that had previously carried the smell of snow suddenly turned icy, and his body was pulled down as if he were falling into an abyss. 

Rick tried to scream, but the sound stuck in his throat. He couldn't even breathe, his chest was being squeezed by an invisible hand. 

The darkness was replaced by a blinding flash. He opened his eyes and found himself back in his room. 

The jolt brought him out of this nightmare. Rick jerked, breathing heavily, his eyes darting around the room in search of something familiar to calm his emotional storm. Everything was in its place: the computer, the chair, the bed. No strange noises, no headsets on the floor. 

"Sleep," he breathed out, running a hand over his face, feeling cold sweat trickle down his skin. "It was just a dream." 

But for some reason, even this conviction was not completely certain. Anxiety continued to itch inside, as if the dream hadn't ended after all. 

But his heart continued to pound, unwilling to calm down. It was beating with such force that Rick could almost feel the pulse in his temples, and a heavy, oppressive residue remained in his chest. It was all too real.

He got out of bed, rubbed his eyes, and looked at his phone screen. The clock showed 3:47 a.m. There were no new messages or calls on the screen. 

But his gaze suddenly fell on the desktop, and there, in the very center, was a headset. She was still there, but something about her position seemed strange. The wire was neatly wound, although he remembered for sure that he had left it tangled. 

Rick walked over to the table and, as if in slow motion, picked up the headset. His fingers froze. There was a small scratch on it that definitely wasn't there before. 

"It can't be..." he whispered, his voice trembling with bewilderment and fear. 

The headphones fell out of his hands, hitting the table with a thud. Everything suddenly became unbearably real. This dream, this nightmarish reality, could not be just an accident. 

He stepped back, inhaling deep, cold air. He didn't have the energy to think logically. He was just moving. I went to the window, pulled back the curtains to look at the night city, at this gray world that seemed so far away and safe. But there was a growing fire of anxiety in his chest. 

He sat down on a chair and opened the messages on his phone again. They were still empty. My fingers hovered over the key, not knowing who to write to or what to write to. Only chaotic thoughts were swarming in his head. 

"I need a distraction," he muttered, as if that helped him make some sense of this absurdity. 

Rick turned on the computer, hoping to distract himself with the game, but the screen flashed brightly instead of the usual menu. An inscription appeared on it: 

"Did you think it would end so easily?" 

His heart contracted, and a feeling of coldness froze in his chest. His breathing became heavy, and the words on the screen began to fade, replaced by a new phrase.: 

"This is just the beginning, Rick_silen." 

At that moment, it seemed to him again that cold, moist air touched his neck. 

Rick screamed, jerking violently, and finally woke up. He was ready for any nightmare, but everything was as usual in the room: the lamp's light softly flooded the table, the headset was in its place, the wires were tangled the way he left them before the game. 

His chest was heaving, and his eyes still couldn't focus. Rick ran his hands over his face, trying to process what was happening. 

"A dream... inside a dream," he whispered, not believing his own words. 

My eyes fell on the clock. 00:13 a.m. Earlier than in the "second" dream. He froze, trying to figure out how this was possible. 

Rick got out of bed and looked around the room. Everything looked normal: the noise of passing cars could be heard outside the window, the dim light of a street lamp penetrated from the window. Rick closed his eyes, trying to stop the throbbing pain in his head, which seemed to overshadow his thoughts. He didn't remember falling asleep, but the feeling that those two hours were nothing only increased the oppressive feeling in his chest. All this—the nightmare, these strange, haunting shadows—were so familiar, as if they hid something more, something that he could not see. He rubbed his face with his palms, as if trying to shake out the remnants of sleep, but the more he tried to concentrate, the more he felt this strange feeling, like a shadow, envelop him. 

"A shadow? No, you're just tired, Rick. Just a dream." He forced himself to push those thoughts away, but his body wouldn't agree. It didn't believe him. He was sitting in thought, trying to regain at least the illusion of calm, when his stomach suddenly rumbled loudly. This distracted him from his heavy thoughts, and he stood up, rubbing his neck irritably. 

It's been a few days since he hasn't slept properly. Raids, endless games, tension that wouldn't let go. He had lost track of time long ago. Especially after he returned to his main character in the game, which seemed to have completely thrown him off balance. Rick slammed his laptop shut, where the game guides continued to spin, and resolutely headed for the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, hoping that at least he would find something, but looking at the shelves, he realized that he had not paid attention to food for a long time. There are only two cans of soda and a couple of blackened bananas on the shelves. "Well, yes, that's what I expected..." he muttered, picking up one banana from the shelf and staring at it intently, as if it were his last hope. 

After looking around his apartment, Rick realized that his daily life now largely depended on his sister. Mika left a couple of days ago to visit a friend, and since then he has been leading his strange routine, forgetting even the simplest things. Usually Mika brought food, took care of the house, but now... it was as if he was stuck in his closed world and did not leave the apartment at all.

© Marukuro Rafaello, 2024. All rights reserved.