Unrecorded Time

19981222 / 20011114

Seo Yubin steps out of her apartment building at 7:00 am. The crisp November air brushes at her cheeks as she walks to college.

Arriving by 7:30 am, she relishes her quiet solitude before the day unfolds.

Yubin enters the library, the scent of old books, wood and leather filling her senses. She seeks a random book to delve into before her classes begin.

Yubin sank deeper into the worn armchair, the familiar scent of aged paper and leather a comforting embrace. She flipped through a well-worn textbook, attempting to lose herself in the familiar rhythm of the storybook.

A jarring trill shattered the peaceful silence. Glancing at her flip phone, she saw an unknown number flashing on the screen. With a scoff, she hit decline, the annoyance momentarily breaking her concentration.

But the interruption was far from over. The phone blared to life again, the same unknown number demanding attention. Yubin pressed decline once more, a furrow etching itself between her brows.

The insistent ring pierced her quiet mind a third time, then a fourth. With a growing sense of unease, Yubin answered rapidly on the fifth try. Static greeted her ears, followed by a flat, emotionless voice uttering a single, chilling command: "...Pick up the phone."

Yubin's breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The line went dead, leaving her suspended in a tense silence. Slowly, she closed the phone, its weight suddenly heavier in her hand.

The library, once a sanctuary, now felt charged with unseen eyes watching her every move.

She looks around frantically. Her head felt hot and hazy. A glint of metal catches her eye. On a desk near the entrance, a dusty camcorder sits forgotten by the window.

Curiosity piqued, Yubin heads towards it and picks it up, its weight surprisingly hefty in her hands.

She flips the camcorder over, inspecting its worn exterior. A shadow of hope ignites within her – the power button seems functional. With an eager press, the screen flickers to life, revealing a series of dated video files from 1998 to 1999.

Intrigue bubbles in her chest, Yubin tucks the camcorder discreetly into her bag and straight to her class.

The promise of a glimpse into the past, a window into the lives of students who once walked these halls, is too tempting to resist.

Throughout the day, Yubin drowns in notes, homework and boring assignment due dates.

Sighing as the day finally ends she packs her stuff and heads out of the classroom, walking the halls slowly, her eyes focused on the ground, someone approaches next to her and walks side by side, she notices their shoes and looks up to her right side and sees no one.

"What.." she says quietly..

Yubin looks around confused and frantic, only seeing students getting further in the distance..their voices and steps become quieter. Her eyes shakily look around her surroundings.

Did I imagine that? —

She quickly rushes out of the college, walks home at a fast pace and remembers the little souvenir she took from the library but can't forget about the events that happened today.

Tonight, she'll unravel the mysteries hidden within those out-of-focus recordings.

The night shrouded Yubin's apartment, the only light, a sliver escaping from her bedroom window. Inside, she cradled the camcorder. With a click, the screen flickered to life, casting dancing shadows on the wall.

The first videos were a vibrant tapestry of youthful energy. The girls – five of them, judging by the flickering glimpses – documented their lives with unrestrained glee.

Yubin watched, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips, as they danced, belted out tunes, and bickered playfully in class. A pang of envy, sharp and unexpected, pierced her. Their friendship, a kaleidoscope of colours, was a stark contrast to her own solitary existence.

But the mood shifted abruptly.
The next video displayed a slow pan of the college grounds, a disquieting emptiness seeping through the lens.
An alleyway followed, its darkness swallowing the frame whole.
A shiver snaked down Yubin's spine as the camcorder jerked upwards, revealing the familiar facade of the college once more. Then, footsteps. Heavy, deliberate steps echoing up the stone steps in the pre-dawn quiet.

"What...is this?" Yubin whispered, the sound barely audible over the frantic hammering of her heart. The air in the room felt thick, charged with an unseen tension.

The silence stretched for an agonising minute and thirty-four seconds before the video abruptly stopped.

With trembling hands, she shut off the camcorder. The silence that followed was heavier than any sound. Sleep, a distant dream, evaded her. She shoved the camcorder into a drawer, its weight a physical manifestation of the dread that coiled her body. Pulling the covers up to her face, she squeezed her eyes shut, her breath quickening visible as her chest rises and falls but the unsettling images burned behind her eyelids. That night, sleep was restless, haunted by the echoes of unseen footsteps.

Monday 14th of November 2001