The Midnight Souls & Other Stories

I lost my notebook

The nights in Azma’s room had grown colder, though it was still the middle of summer. Shadows clung to the corners, stretching and shifting like silent, watchful eyes, and a chill hung in the air that seemed to settle in her bones. At first, she thought it was her imagination—just the leftover nerves from an unsettling dream. But every morning, a new mystery waited for her. Her favorite earrings, a pen, her books—items she was certain she had left in their places—would vanish without a trace, only to reappear hours or even days later, slightly changed. A smudge of dirt, a fresh crack, or, worse, faint fingerprints in places they shouldn’t be. And each time, Azma felt a growing sense of dread, as though something—or someone—was sharing her room, slipping into her life in the dead of night and leaving her only haunting reminders in return.

Azma’s frustration with her missing items grew each day, and finally, she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. At lunch, she turned to her friend Mira, her voice barely a whisper.

“Something’s happening in my room,” Azma said, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. “I keep losing things—like, I know I left them somewhere, but they disappear and come back… changed.”

Mira raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Maybe it’s just you being forgetful again. Remember that time you lost your phone, and it was in the fridge?”

Azma shook her head. “No, Mira, it’s different this time. Like, I’ll leave my notebook on my desk, and it’ll reappear with muddy smudges all over it. Or my earrings… I found one of them bent, as if someone tried to crush it. This isn’t just me being forgetful.”

Mira leaned in, her expression turning serious. “Okay, that’s actually creepy. Are you sure no one’s been in your room? Like your parents or… I don’t know, a sibling?”

Azma shook her head again, her hands trembling slightly.

“No. I even locked my room one night. But things still went missing—and when they came back, there were muddy footprints leading from my closet to my bed.”

Mira’s face paled.

“Footprints? Azma, that’s… not normal. Maybe you should tell your parents.”

“I tried!” Azma’s voice rose, then she lowered it, glancing around.

“They didn’t believe me. They think I’m just being paranoid.”

Mira leaned back, frowning. “You know what? There’s probably a rational explanation for this. I mean… have you tried placing something as a test? Like, set an item down and keep your eyes on it all night?”

Azma’s face tightened. “I tried that with my phone last night. I stayed up as long as I could, but the moment I closed my eyes, it vanished. When I looked in my closet… it was there, Mira. Covered in mud and… fingerprints. Like someone was *holding* it.”

Mira shivered, her voice dropping.

“Okay, that’s officially creepy. You need protection. Hang garlic in your room, or… salt the windowsills and door. Ward off whatever’s doing this.”

Azma scoffed, though she felt a shiver run down her spine.

“Garlic? Mira, it’s not a vampire!”

Mira held up her hands defensively.

“Hey, just trying to help! Look, sometimes old superstitions work. Or at least, they make you feel like you’re in control. And it sounds like you need that.”

Azma considered it, then nodded slowly.

“Alright… I’ll try anything at this point. Salt, garlic… I’ll do it all. I just want it to stop.”

The next day at school, Mira’s first question was, “So? Did it work?”

Azma’s face was pale, her eyes hollow. She shook her head slowly.

“This morning… I found salt scattered across the floor. And a note under my pillow. It said: I’ll always come back.”

Mira gasped, covering her mouth. “Azma… you need help.”

Azma nodded, fear flickering in her eyes. “I think… I think I might be past that point.”