Short stories!

I. M. Anonymous

I sit on my bed, reading a Spanish textbook boredly. We have got our end-of-year exams coming up but honestly, I can't be bothered to study any longer. What's the point of even having to study when I know I'm going to fail anyway? 

Life questions.

My name is Simon Stirling and I am just your average 14-year-old who's questioning their existence and of course, suffering from an extreme addiction to music and YouTube. Like most people my age, I have nothing better to do. Figures.

Absent-mindedly, I reach for my phone and open my messages, leaving my textbook abandoned. As I scroll through my messages, something catches my eye. Someone I don't know has sent me an email, and I don't know why or how they sent it.

I tap on the message, feeling a bit on the nervous side. It is from someone called I. M. Anonymous, and I can't help but think about what a wierd name that is. Like, what on Earth were their parents thinking when they called them that? Unless it is a pseudonym- that seems more logical.

For some reason, I read it as slowly as possible:

I. M. Anonymous: 

Hello Simon. You may be wondering who I am.

The person is right: I am wondering who they are. Maybe some creept stalker? Maybe some person who spams? I have no idea. Hesitantly, I type in a reply, not bothering to keep myself unknown- they already know my name.

Simon Stirling:

Hi. Who are you and how did you contact me?

Their message comes almost instantly, like a robot or something.

I. M. Anonymous:

I am an important person. However, my identity must be kept unknown.

Simon Stirling:

Okay then. So why and how did you contact me?

If I am honest, I am not sure I even want a reply. Who knows what this person will say. Maybe I should go back to my Spanish homework but before I can, the anonymous person replies.

I. M. Anonymous:

That is to remain none of your business. I would like to ask you some questions.

What questions do they mean? I quickly type in a reply, a million doubts flashing in my mind.

Simon Stirling:

What type of questions?

I. M. ANONYMOUS:

For now, they are none of your concern. And before you ask, I am not a robot or any form of Artificial Intelligence.

How do they know what I am thinking? My mind racing, I reply with a short sentence.

Simon Stirling:

I'm not gonna reply till you tell me who you are.

Well, at least if they do not give me their identity they will leave me alone. Either way, it is a win for me. Just as I am about to go back to my Spanish homework, my phone pings again.

I. M. ANONYMOUS:

Fine then. Goodbye, Simon Stirling. But I will come for you. Somehow. Someday.

I pause, unable to move. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to say that. Who knows what the person will do to me? I close the app altogether and put my phone on the beside table and direct my attention the the Spanish book. Maybe I shuld just leave it and see what happens....

*THE NEXT DAY*

I wake up and drag myself out of bed, groaning. For a few moments, I just stare out the window, wondering how badly I am going to fail the mock exams today. Will I get a D or an F? Who knows?

Then I remember the anonymous person's words and I feel a nervous jolt in the pit of my stomach. What if they came for me today, or my family? Then I realised: if they got me, at least I would be able to get out of exams.

With that (kind of) happy thought in my mind, I begin to get dressed, not even minding when I am hopelessly late for the school bus and have to run like a maniac all the way to school.

Panting, I reach the front gates, where my best friend Ella is waiting for me by the door, crossing her arms. Although we are both late, she has an unusually cheeky smile plastered onto her face.

"Overslept again?" she teases.

I roll my eyes, suddenly away that the anonymous person might be watching me right now. "Maybe, maybe not. Now come on- we're gonna get chewed up so bad."

We both walk quickly into the building and into our first lesson, hoping our teacher will not notice us. 

*One hour later*

With a fried brain, I pull myslef out of my chair and towards the door. Because the world freaking hates me, my first class was Spanish. After an hour of grinding my brain for non-existent answers, I was finally free of the exam which, needless to say, I would fail.

I give a jealous glance at Ella, who is still grinning madly. Lucky for her, she doesn't even have to study- she already knows Spanish because it's her native language. So she doesn't need to think because she knows everything, and I don't need to think because I know nothing.

Wonderful.

We walk outside and I can tell there is something going on from the mischievous glint in her green eyes and her smile. I collapse onto a bench, wondering why she is now stifling a laugh.

"What's so funny?" I ask.

She sits next to me, looking me in the eye. "You still haven't figured it out yet?"

What does she mean? "No....?"

"Okay, last night, did you get some wierd messages from someone?"

How does she know about the anonymous person. Unless... "Ella Rodriguez, what have you done this time?"

Unavle to hold it in anymore, she cracks up, holding her stomach. "Oh my god you're so stupid! It was me sending you all those stupid messages! Did you really believe all that?"

I pause. "Maybe......"

So, reader, after all that, it turned out to be a prank.

Like I said.

The world hates me.