The Tour Guide

The black trench coat and worn leather boots had become my uniform. Every night they drew curious glances from tourists, but after five years of leading ghost tours through the old town, I hardly noticed anymore. Winter air clung to my skin, yet these streets felt strangely familiar, almost warm, as though they had long ago accepted me as one of their own.

The cold breeze brushed the back of my neck as I adjusted the old kerosene lantern hanging from my hand. The flame had long since been replaced with a cheap electric bulb, but my boss insisted it added "atmosphere." According to him, people didn't pay for history; they paid to be frightened.

One by one, they gathered beneath the abandoned courthouse.

Couples looking for a romantic thrill.

Families dragging bored teenagers who never look up from their phones.

Groups of friends dare each other to scream first.

They always arrived the same way, drifting toward the light of my lantern like moths.

Normally, I enjoyed my job. I loved watching people laugh one moment and jump out of their skin the next. But tonight was different. My head throbbed, my body felt heavy, and every breath carried an odd chill that seemed to come from inside me rather than the winter air.

Matt, my impossibly cheap boss, had called me in on my day off because Jeff had "called in sick." Matt would rather overwork me than hire another guide.

I should have stayed home.

---

"Welcome, everyone," I called, forcing a smile. "My name is Montemur, and tonight I'll guide you through the forgotten streets of this old town. Every building here hides a tragedy, every alley remembers a secret, and if we're lucky... perhaps we see something or someone from the past. If we do all, what they really want is someone to remember them."

A nervous laugh rippled through the crowd.

We wandered deeper into the old streets.

I told stories of murders, disappearances, and restless spirits. Every stop felt colder than the last. My headache worsened until every heartbeat echoed through my skull.

Then, halfway through another story, I looked up.

The group had stopped walking.

Everyone was staring at me.

Not smiling.

Not frightened.

Watching.

Only then did I notice something I should have seen from the beginning.

Their clothes were decades out of fashion.

One man's suit was stained with dried blood.

A woman wore a faded white mourning dress.

A little girl stood barefoot at the front of the group, a deep scar stretching across her pale face.

Her empty eyes locked onto mine.

"You got my story wrong," she whispered.

"My name isn't Lillian."

Her voice was calm.

"It's Liliane."

Another figure emerged from the crowd.

"You never told them how I died."

A woman in a torn white dress smiled.

"You left out my children."

Then another.

And another.

Faces surrounded me. Every ghost whose story I'd turned into entertainment stood before me.

I stumbled backwards.

"No..." I whispered.

"You wanted people to remember us."

The little girl tilted her head.

"So now..."

"You'll remember us forever."

The lantern slipped from my grasp.

The bulb shattered against the cobblestones.

Darkness swallowed the street.

The last thing I heard wasn't a scream.

It was laughter.

Dozens of quiet voices laughing all at once.

---

The next evening, Jeff cursed under his breath as he walked through the empty square.

Matt had spent all morning calling Montemur.

No answer.

By sunset, he'd given up.

"You're doing the tour tonight," he'd told Jeff. "He probably quit."

Jeff knew better.

Montemur wouldn't leave without saying something.

As he reached the old courthouse, something caught his eye.

An old kerosene lantern lay on the ground.

The same lantern Montemur carried every night.

Jeff frowned.

"That's weird..."

He picked it up.

The metal was ice cold.

A shiver crawled slowly up his spine.

Probably just the weather.

His headache started a few minutes later.

By the time the tourists began gathering beneath the courthouse, the pounding behind his eyes had become unbearable.

He looked toward the first stop of the tour.

For just a second...

He thought he saw a little girl standing in the shadows.

She smiled.

Then she was gone.

Jeff swallowed hard.

"Welcome, everyone," he said, forcing a smile.

"My name is Jeff..."

"...and tonight, I'll be your tour guide. Every building here hides a tragedy, every alley remembers a secret, and if we're lucky... perhaps we see something or someone from the past. If we do all, what they really want is someone to remember them."

 

Taylor Story

 

Have you ever heard a song for the first time and felt like it moved you? That's how I felt when I heard “Enchanted” by Taylor Swift for the first time in 2024.

To say I was enchanted would be an understatement. I became obsessed with every song and every lyric of hers. Although I don't think I consider myself a Swiftie because all I revered was her writing style, not the other Easter eggs in her music that Swifties are searching for. Still here I am writing out my journey fueled by her lyrics.

Before Taylor Swift, I listened to Bollywood music. I found her song "Enchanted" by mistake, and well, I was enchanted to meet her. Soon, I was enchanted by the entire Speak Now album, and I realised that bringing up Taylor's name sparked a range of reactions from people. I was studying back in India, and most of my friends' discographies consisted of Bollywood songs. And it's not like they disliked her; rather, it was just another singer rattling off in the language they didn't relate to.

A few people who knew her helped me find her other album, Fearless, which featured her evergreen track “Love Story”. Listening to that song, I finally understood why I related to her songwriting so much, even though I never listened to English music with this much zeal. Taylor Swift seemed so similar to all the novels I have ever read. She was narrating to me the stories I loved in beautiful verses.

It was as if I had finally found my book companion, the one who liked to sing out and talk about stories. I can picture and daydream with her lyrics all day long. After Fearless, I turned to YouTube and found out that her most-streamed and first pop album was “1989”. It's called 1989 because that's her birth year, and since it marked her transition from country to pop culture, she found it fitting to be called 1989.

And let's say it has one of the best music videos. They are hilarious and satirical in a way. “Blank Space”, “Shake It Off”, and “Are We Out of the Woods” all became my go-to numbers to play during workouts or whenever I needed an adrenaline rush.

As I was still a baby Taylor Swift fan wrapping my mind around all this newfound lyrical genius, I heard her latest album, “The Tortured Poets Department (TTPD)”, was dropping. My entire Instagram feed became filled with Swifties. They were all discussing and analysing her clothes and the current fashion she exhibited during her ongoing Eras Tour. That's when I realised this woman was a mastermind at mapping out Easter eggs. And her mega fans, the Swifties, were crazy enough to decipher her clues and find out what she is hinting at. I found this treasure hunt thing totally exciting. Being a great mystery lover, I was on top of every theory and thread.

When TTPD was finally released, I was confused.

It was so sad. Why is this woman sad? It felt as if I had missed a few integral chapters of my bestie's life, and she went through not one but heartbreaks during her tour. Listening to the entire TTPD discography (31 songs), I found out how pain can be used to build something beautiful. When I heard the song “Peter” I was so moved by how she expressed the nature of Peter Pan never growing up. I admired Peter Pan’s childish and boyish charm, but this song helped me realise the paain and anguish of Wendy who wanted him to grow up to be with her in the real world. 

I use TTPD whenever I am studying and feel alone. Yes, her lyrics help me relate to my relationship with my studies. But even TTPD has the song “So High School”, which Taylor used to hard-launch her relationship  to Travis Kelce. It made me really happy to find that the person who made me believe in fairytales got her fairytale moment.

During this time, I also realised that Taylor Swift had other things that I find similar. She is the oldest sibling, has a younger brother, and is close to her mom and dad. Her mom is practically her bestie, and she is obsessed with cats like me. Her youngest cat, Benjamin Button, was adopted by her on the set of her music video for the song “Me”.

After watching this song, I started grooving to her Lover album. It was a drastic change from TTPD's macabre aesthetic of black and white to Lover's bright pink one, but my summer vacation had started, and I was just in the mood for flowers and sunshine and making paper rings.

Lover made me realise how she ingeniously linked “London Boy”, a full-on love song, to “So Long, London” later in TTPD. Clearly, Taylor Swift remembers it all too well.

Continuing my happy streak, I switched to her debut album, Taylor Swift. Listening to her voice as a teenager was funny at first. But then I was vibing to her teenage shenanigans and sort of vibing with my new bangs, which may have been influenced by her, in a way.

After her Eras Tour ended in December of 2024, I realised that we even had our birthdays so close together, 11th and 13th December. I declared her my long-distance bestie now.

Watching the Eras Tour was so fun for me. I didn't feel bad about not getting tickets for the show. Being more of an introvert, I aimed to watch it from the comfort of my home, clutching my pillow and giggling as I saw all the eras unfold.

The Eras Tour helped me find the 10-minute version of “All Too Well.” The amount of time I invested in that song, for 10 minutes a day, was huge. Sometimes I used this song to manage my time and complete tasks using an allocated counter. All Too Well obviously made me obsessed with the entire “Red” album. Red was the album that represented change and growing up, which resonated a lot with my university life.

Finally, when it was time for me to move to Australia, I listened to “You’re on Your Own, Kid” and became a “Midnights” fan. Taylor’s album Midnights was about fears and uncertainties that one faces in life.

I then stumbled on Folklore in August with the song “August,” and this album was all about the storytelling of beautiful characters. I listened to Evermore to finish the set of all her albums by October 2025, when she finally released her 12th album, “The Life of a Showgirl”.

I remained in the loop with this album from the very beginning, following its creation and all trends. It was just a bundle of happiness. A shot of espresso. Taylor really did say, “It’s all right, and you were dancing through the lightning strikes.”

This year, Taylor won loads of awards at the iHeartRadio Awards, and with her upcoming wedding plans, she has remained in the news. She managed to treat her fans yet again by dropping a new single on 5th June, “I Knew it, I Knew You”. A  country song that would be featured in Toy Story 5.

Taylor Swift and Toy Story finally got their collab after having the same initials since the very beginning. We will finally get Taylor Story. This latest song sets the base for Taylor Swift’s debut album re-release. This song brings back her springy country music era. It makes you grab your cowboy boots and wear a big cowboy hat as you harness your inner country-ness.

Whether you are a Swiftie, a country music enthusiast, a lyric lover, or just someone looking for a new jam to vibe to, stream this song to feel the buzz in your feet.

For me, Taylor Swift’s music will always be special. Maybe because the first beat enchanted me, or because I stayed to listen to her 10-minute track each time. Her lyrics will always be my musical storybook adventure.

Labs Laid Out

When I realized so many of my friends were missing out (and yes, serious FOMO was involved), I decided to give you a proper insider tour, showing what engineering labs are actually like.

If you think labs are cool, that’s still underselling it. Labs are where theory finally stops being abstract and starts feeling real. They’re messy, exciting, sometimes intimidating and honestly, they’re the reason most of us signed up for engineering in the first place.

So, buckle up. Think of this as your all-access pass to the behind-the-scenes world of engineering labs.

 

1) Chemistry Lab

Walking into a chemistry lab feels like stepping into a mix between a hospital operating room and a cooking show.

There’s a sharp chemical smell in the air, everything is clean and organized, and before you touch anything, you suit up like a semi-astronaut in a lab coat, gloves, sometimes even goggles. It’s like preparing for surgery, except instead of saving lives, you’re mixing liquids and hoping they don’t explode.

The best way to understand chemistry is to think of it like cooking—but with stricter rules and higher stakes. Every “recipe” (experiment) has precise measurements, timing, and steps. Add something too early, too late, or in the wrong amount, and instead of a tasty dish, you might get nothing or an angry tutor with a grade deduction.

Titration experiments are like waiting for toast to turn the perfect shade of brown, but slower and more stressful. You’re watching for a tiny color change, drop by drop, wondering, “Was that it? Or did I mess it up?”

Handling glassware like test tubes feels oddly risky; they’re fragile, slippery, and somehow always break when you least expect them to. By the end of the semester, your lab coat tells a story of all your experiments, mostly through stains you’ll never fully get out.

 

2) Electrical Lab

If chemistry is cooking, electrical labs are like stepping into a controlled lightning storm.

The moment you walk in, you see large machines, wires everywhere, and equipment that looks powerful enough to run a small city. Suddenly, electricity isn’t just something that powers your phone; it’s something you respect.

Think of it like dealing with a wild animal: if you handle it correctly, it works beautifully; if you don’t, it reminds you instantly (and painfully) that you made a mistake.

Grounding is one of the first things you learn, and it’s basically like giving electricity a safe escape route. Without it, you might become that route, and you get electrocuted. So yes, connecting wires properly isn’t just about getting marks; it’s about not becoming part of the circuit.

There aren’t dramatic sparks flying everywhere like in movies. These are small shocks that will surely wake you better than any espresso.

 

3) Electronics Lab

Electronics is like the cooler cousin of electrical engineering. Instead of big machines, you’re working with tiny components like chips, resistors, and circuit boards. It’s like building a city, but on something the size of your palm.

If electrical labs feel like handling raw power, electronics labs feel like assembling Lego sets, but with a brain. You connect small parts, and then you program them to do something. Suddenly, that little board can blink lights, play sounds, or even control devices.

It’s where hardware meets software. Imagine building a robot body and then teaching it how to think; that’s electronics in a nutshell.

You start to realize that everything around you, from your phone to your laptop to your headphones, is basically just a very advanced version of what you’re building in the lab.

 

4) Mechanical Lab

Mechanical labs feel the closest to what people imagine when they think of “real engineering.”

It’s loud, hands-on, and full of heavy machinery. Walking in feels like entering a factory or workshop where things are constantly being built, shaped, or destroyed in a controlled environment.

If other labs are like simulations, this one feels like industry.

You work with drills, welding tools, molds, things that demand attention and respect. It’s like using power tools at maximum level. Every instruction matters because these machines don’t forgive careless mistakes.

One of the coolest parts? Pouring molten material into molds you designed yourself. It literally feels like handling lava and turning it into something solid and useful. It’s like playing Minecraft but in real life, and with heat-resistant gloves.

And then there’s 3D printing, which honestly feels like magic. You design something on a computer, press a button, and watch it slowly come to life layer by layer. It’s the closest thing to “printing objects” from sci-fi movies.

 

5) Physics Lab

Physics labs are where you prove that the formulas you’ve been memorizing actually work in the real world.

It’s less chaotic than other labs, but more precise. Think of it like being a detective, except instead of solving crimes, you’re verifying the laws of the universe.

You’ll work with lasers, lenses, electromagnets, and measuring devices. Light experiments feel especially cool; it’s like bending and controlling something you normally can’t even touch.

The tricky part? Accuracy. Every measurement matters. A tiny error can throw off your entire result, so you’re constantly double-checking, calculating uncertainties, and asking yourself, “Did I do this right?”

It’s not flashy, but it’s deeply satisfying when your results actually match theory.

 

6) Biomedical Lab

Biomedical labs are where engineering meets the human body, and things get real very quickly.

This isn’t just machines or circuits anymore; you’re working with biological samples. It feels a bit like stepping into a medical lab or even a crime scene investigation.

You wear gloves, handle specimens, and sometimes deal with procedures that feel straight out of a forensic show. It can be uncomfortable at first, especially if you’re not used to it, but it’s also fascinating.

Think of it as engineering with life itself. You’re not just building systems; you’re understanding and interacting with living ones.

 

7) Computer Lab

And finally, the computer lab. The one that feels most familiar yet offers the most creative freedom.

At first glance, it just looks like a room full of computers. But in reality, it’s like stepping into a digital playground.

If other labs are about building physical things, this one is about building worlds.

Coding feels like having superpowers. You type something, run it, and suddenly you’ve created an animation, a program, or even an entire system. It’s like telling a computer, “Do this,” and watching it obey.

Think of it like writing the rules of a universe. Whether it’s a simple program or a full website, everything exists because of code.

And the best part? You don’t need heavy machinery or protective gear, just your mind and a computer. It’s the most accessible lab, but also one of the most powerful.

 

In the end, I would say that each lab is a completely different universe. And once you step in, you’ll realize: this is where things actually come to life. Maybe the university should offer an excursion to all these labs for even non-tech students to get a taste of them for a day, because we all deserve to explore and act like a cool movie character once in a while.

Minor Inconveniences to Brew for Your Enemies

Have you ever had that urge to beat up somebody solely for their high level of ability to annoy you even when doing the most insignificant things? I personally get this feeling quite often. It’s like I am easily irritated by their lame approach to trigger a reaction. But since I am an advocate of world peace, I prefer to be the mature one in the situation and instead think of subtle, minor inconveniences that won’t cost me bad karma upon wishing. Here are some of my go-to’s you might find good enough to wish on an annoying fellow.

1) Hair Hassel: Imagine washing your hair intently, marinating it with oils, gels, all the beauty products you could ever think of, only to find a group of single strands spiking up like antennas merely the day after. For every strand smoothened out, your enemy remembers each emotional garbage they forced you through.

2) Falling Down Clumsily: Have you ever been minding your business when you suddenly bumped into a table, and your poor toe starts throbbing like a ballerina after practice? If you keep slamming into objects at random times of day, the dictionary will call you uncoordinated or clumsy. But I firmly believe that your enemies are using this spell so that you keep losing your aura in front of your associates. Use this against them.

3) Throat jam: One of my greatest fears is having an itchy throat in the morning that doesn’t get better even after drinking warm water. This spell is a severe way to seal your enemies’ mouths, because they might try hundreds of home remedies, but the sore throat will only leave when it wants to. It’s a silent reminder for them to think before they speak. 

4) Roast from Sun: Let the sun do the work for you. Better is the result if they wore shades all day, for they would end up looking like a red panda. Also, every piece of clothing they wear would bring discomfort, and each hiss from them would satisfy you. No roasts can amount to the burn produced by the sunburn.

5) Personal displace: What can be more annoying than commuting in an overcrowded school bus, like, you are paying for a peaceful trip, but you are squished in like sardines. Each jolt and stop makes you feel the muscles that you pulled accidentally. It’s a humbling experience to be pushed by a total stranger and not even get a sorry, because it probably got lost somewhere in the crowd. Being in this crowded space will help your enemies realise how they were hogging your space, making you shrink into a smaller zone. 

6) Endless Climb: Punishing your enemies with unplanned cardio is also a great humbling experience. They get the chance to ponder over life decisions as they huff up all the steps to a tutorial they are probably late for. Going up the stairs - I would like to see how tough they can be. Can’t call you out anymore, can they? Probably can’t think of a comeback as they huff and puff up all the steps.

7) Wrong Jam: Nothing spoils the day more than a playlist full of ads. You can hurt them silently and deeply, and, better still, if they are not on premium. Hit them with the longest ad breaks. These ads represent how they bring an unwanted pause to your day. For the Richie Rich with premium, have the shaman twist the spell so that they can’t find a single tune to jam to and must resort to endless skips.

8) Close Sesame: This spell is opposite to “Alohomora.” Have automatic doors all over the world ignore your enemies until they formally apologise to you. There’s also room for variation that includes: (1) always taking an embarrassing amount of time figuring out how to open a door, (2) constantly being in a situation of rushing towards the elevator door that smashes shut in their face. Now they must go through the endless climb curse.

9) Sleep Slide: Nothing worse than feeling drowsy the entire day, but as soon as your head touches the pillow, sleep slides out, and you are left staring at the ceiling in the dark. Make your enemies go over the entire day, reply in the moment, and cringe at their own actions. Let them panic at being so close to sleep but still so far. Let them fall into the trap of doomscroll and ruin their next day with a splitting headache.

10) Expense of Tastelessness: This spell is especially designed to ruin their taste buds. Make your enemies spend tons on food only to find out that they taste horrible. For that price, surely they must set some pride aside to savour a dish they dislike. Deal with it! This lesson subtly teaches them that the world does not revolve around them, and that they need to learn to adjust for the greater good.

All these inconveniences are not designed to make your enemies suffer, but to turn them into better humans. You are giving them a chance to be humbled. Why put up your fists when you can unlock your magical potential by pen - or a click to the nearest etsy witch? Stop waiting for your Hogwarts invite and get cooking with these easy manifestations. Do not let your imagination fall short as you pick up more minor inconveniences for the people who did you wrong.

Fashion Sense of an Engineering Girlie

As I stand stumped in front of the assortment of fabrics in my wardrobe, I’m forced to remember when, why, and how I managed to hoard this much stuff. The clothes I wore in high school seemed to have graduated with me into college. They were even able to travel abroad without all the VISA hassles, I might add.

My fashion sense now sits at the nexus of punk-nerdy teenager and senior citizen. I can’t help but succumb to the comfort of graphic tees, oversized hoodies, and baggy jeans. It’s not like I don’t own any fancy tops or classy college-girl dresses. I do have them… Plenty of them. But every morning, my hands seem to automatically beckon this cocoon of comfort; despite the fact that this comfort, unfortunately, looks a little… bland. in. Still, as Autumn rolls in, I feel the sudden urge to resurrect  my hot-girl summer energy before the dull season returns to take over my wardrobe.So, one day, I actually tried. I put on a cute top and skirt. I even tamed my hair into something that resembled effort.

But then I remembered my backpack.

With my laptop, charger, extension cords, cables, notebooks, random circuit boards, and probably whatever else you could name, this backpack weighs as much as a small house. Did I mention I study engineering?

Of course, I didn’t say it earlier, because the moment people hear “engineering,” they immediately assume fashion advice is the last thing I should be giving. Engineering majors are usually considered the worst-dressed students on campus. And honestly, the stereotype isn’t wrong.

First of all: the backpack. It ruins both your outfits and your spine. My research project might as well be about designing a pocket-sized bag, because I’m tired of looking like a turtle. Second: early tutorials. In the hour between limited sleep and long commute, getting dressed up feels more like a suggestion. With crusted eyes and un-brushed hair, I think looking presentable would be nice, but it just doesn’t work in practice. Third: the endless cycle of work. Even on days with no lectures I’m buried in coursework. I doubt that people would even be able to notice my theoretically cute wardrobe beneath my avalanche of classes, labs, projects and assignments. Wearing a cute outfit just to sit at a desk feels like wasting good clothes. When you find yourself struggling against problem sets, you don’t have time for beauty, you simply tie your hair up, open your laptop, and enter academic survival mode.

Still, on the rare day that I actually do dress up, I feel like a cloud of cotton candy, sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of black shirts and baggy jeans.There aren’t many girls in engineering. Since I’m often surrounded by guys who don’t care to hide that they rolled out of bed five minutes ago, I feel that my environment just doesn’t facilitate my most fashionable self. Eventually, I begin to retreat back. Black. Brown. Denim. Back into safe colours. 

But even in my ‘safety’, I still hear the siren call of the bright colours all the way from my wardrobe. Every time you see the cool girls across campus, with the tiny tote bags and cute purses, you’re brought back to the cotton candy-coloured potential. It doesn’t help when, at night, my mum reminds me of all these clothes that I never wear; the ones I insisted on when I simply needed a cool wardrobe. All of these memories swirl together in my mind, I am brought back to my primary school dream of having a cool uni student. I remember all the outfits I used to dream of. 

I open my closet again and pick out an outfit. I lay it out for tomorrow morning. I pack my bag. I tighten the straps. I try on the outfit. For a moment, I hesitate to look in the mirror, worried I’ll still see that schoolgirl playing dress-up. But when I finally do, I realise something simple: It’s just me. I am still the same engineering girlie who loves colour, chaos, and graphic t-shirts.

Maybe I stand out. Maybe my style seems to somehow occupy the small margin between ‘too much’ and ‘too little’. But it’s mine. Whether drop-dead gorgeous or completely unsightly, I have decided to cherish my style as it is a catalogue of who all that I am. Somewhere in the mix of tangled hair and boring sweaters is a history of me. 

I found that I don’t need to check boxes on some imaginary list of what an engineering student should look like. Maybe I’m setting a trend. Maybe I’m committing several fashion crimes at once. Either way, on the days I feel like entering my princess era, I will. And on the other days? Well, I already have a splendid Graphic tee collection to snuggle right into.

Love Notes

Ever since I was little, I believed in Valentine’s Day miracles, bouquets tied in satin ribbon, a boy standing under fairy lights, a soft, shy “Will you be mine?” That dream followed me to college, tucked between lab reports and late-night ramen. And, somewhere along the way, it began wearing Jake Morrison’s face.

Jake was the captain of the football team. Golden boy, effortless charm, the kind of smile that made entire bleachers lean forward. Tonight, he’d just scored the winning goal. The crowd roared as he looked up into the stands.

At me.

He didn’t wave exactly, just lifted his fingers slightly, but it was enough to send heat rushing to my cheeks.

Beside me, Maddy snorted. “You’re hopeless.”

I didn’t bother looking at her, which was difficult considering she was my roommate, my childhood best friend, and Jake’s twin sister. There was no escaping that level of built-in surveillance.

That night, I checked the hostel mailboxes while pretending I wasn’t replaying Jake’s almost-wave in my head. Being a chemical biomedical engineering student sounds glamorous; in reality, it means sending twenty emails to research labs and getting ghosted by all of them. I usually joke that I like brewing potions.

The truth is, I love reactions, precision, timing, the razor-thin line between healing and harm. Love potions and poisons are chemically closer than people think.

As I sorted through the usual stack of junk mail, my fingers brushed against something thicker.

A pale blush envelope.

On the front, written in careful black ink, was a single letter: R.

Not Becca. Not Rebecca. Just R.

My pulse stumbled. I slipped the envelope into my bag before Maddy could notice and waited until she was asleep to open it.

Inside, the message was written neatly, almost deliberately:

Your smile untangles my worst days.
Your laugh quiets every storm I face.
If courage ever chooses me,
I’ll ask you for one dance at the Dead Dance.

The words made the room feel colder.

Dead Dance?

Jake wasn’t poetic. He was charming, goofy, spontaneous, but not measured like this. And why address me only as “R”? Still, he had looked at me that afternoon. Maybe this was his awkward attempt at subtlety.

I pressed the letter to my chest and let myself imagine fairy lights and satin ribbons.

 

 

The next morning, I found another note under the dorm’s door

 

You hide in crowds. But I see you. Wanting to ask you out.

 

My breath hitched.

 

 

Another note appeared in my hoodie pocket later that day.

You tap your pen when you’re nervous.

That was specific.

 

 

By afternoon, another note had slipped into my lab notebook.

 

You always sit near the aisle. Like you’re ready to leave.

 

 

Jake had never been in my chem lectures.

More notes followed between planner pages, inside my bag, even on my lunch tray. None mentioned the Dead Dance. None were signed. All addressed simply to “R.”

 

When I showed one to Maddy, she squealed. “Oh my God. It’s finally happening.”

 

“Maybe it’s Jake,” I said carefully.

 

She grinned. “He’s been weirdly secretive.”

The word secretive should have unsettled me. Instead, I chose to interpret it as romantic.

 

That evening, a final pink envelope waited inside my mailbox. The handwriting matched the first letter.

Some nights are meant to be remembered.
Some are meant to change everything.
Tonight will do both.
Dead Dance. 10 PM.

 

The earlier notes had felt warm. This one felt colder, as though something beneath the sweetness had sharpened. I told myself I was overthinking it, the hazard of having a chemistry brain trained to look for toxins.

 

Maddy squeezed my hands. “Go. If it’s Jake, you’ll regret missing it.”

 

If it wasn’t, I needed answers.

 

The banquet hall sat at the edge of town, long abandoned. Red streamers drooped from cracked chandeliers, and fairy lights flickered like dying stars. The music pulsed too loudly against peeling walls. This wasn’t satin ribbons and romance; it felt staged, theatrical, almost feverish.

 

Maddy disappeared into the crowd almost instantly. I hate crowds. My chest tightened, and I slipped toward the bathrooms to breathe.

 

That’s when I heard the door slam.

 

A girl stumbled against the sink, pale and trembling. Her pupils were blown wide, her hands shaking violently. This wasn’t alcohol. Her breathing was shallow and irregular.

My mind shifted into clinical focus. “Hey,” I said, gripping her shoulders. “What did you drink?”

Her words dissolved into the air.

Then I smelled it, faint but unmistakable. The bitter taste wafted around her mouth.

Cyanide.

My stomach dropped, but my hands stayed steady. I forced water between her lips, tilted her forward, and kept her conscious while dialling emergency services.

Her bag spilt open across the tile floor. Pink envelopes scattered everywhere.

All addressed to: R.

I grabbed one.

If you can’t be mine, you won’t be anyone’s.

 

Another read:

Tonight we drink together. Like the lovers before us. Forever is better than goodbye.

 

Ice flooded my veins. This wasn’t romance; this was obsession.

 

Sirens sliced through the music, and chaos erupted as paramedics rushed in. The girl Rosie, according to her ID, was loaded into the ambulance. Alive, but barely.

Police later confirmed the drinks had been selectively spiked. Targeted. Rosie had been lured by escalating love letters in a planned murder-suicide. Her obsessive boyfriend intended to drink alongside her. “Like the lovers before us.”

The letters about the Dead Dance had been misdelivered.

 

My knees nearly gave out. I hadn’t been the intended recipient. I had opened the wrong envelope.

 

Maddy hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe. “I’m so sorry. I thought those notes were from Jake.”

Jake stepped forward, pale. “I wrote one,” he admitted quietly.

“One?” My voice felt thin.

“The ‘You hide in crowds, but I see you’ one. I didn’t know how to just… ask you.”

The air shifted.

“That was you?”

He nodded.

I replayed every note in my head. The Dead Dance invitation was dramatic and deliberate. The sweet observational ones were warm and attentive.

Different ink tones. Different pressure. Different slants.

Three handwritings. Three intentions.

Jake had written one. Rosie’s boyfriend had written many. Two of them got misdelivered to me.

 

But the others, the pen tapping, the aisle seat, the nervous habits. Those weren’t Jake’s.

 

He blinked. “Wait. There were more?”

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I felt something slip from my purse, a final pink envelope I didn’t remember placing there.

The handwriting was neither Jake’s nor rigid like the obsessive one. It looped softly, with a slight ink smudge at the corner.

 

I never meant to scare you.
I just didn’t know how else to say it.
I hope you figure it out.
— The right guy.

 

My pulse thundered.

Someone had been watching, not obsessively, not violently, just quietly.

 

Jake shifted beside me. “Coffee tomorrow?” he asked gently. “In daylight. No sketchy murder parties.”

 

I looked at him, golden boy, honest eyes, the safe choice.

And somewhere on campus, someone else knew I tapped my pen when I was nervous.

 

I folded the note carefully and slipped it back into my purse.

“Coffee sounds perfect,” I told Jake.

 

But for the first time in my life, fairy lights didn’t feel like the most interesting option.

And as I walked back through the dim campus corridors, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the story wasn’t over yet.

 

Happy Valentine’s week, dear readers. Hope you had a lovely week, unlike Rebbeca here. The above was another extract from my upcoming novel ‘Mirror Me.’ All your comments and suggestions are welcome. I would take them in to make my novel a wonderful reading experience for you all.

 

The Preview

 

                                     

My bare feet pounded on the wooden floor as I sped down the dark hallway.

Tonight, it was a full moon night, but the glow was blocked by the black, heavy curtains on every window. The corridors seemed to suppress and close in on me, trying to stop me from running away.

The old grandfather clock in the lounge was audible even on a floor above. It was as if it was ticking down the seconds before my death.

I tried to quieten my breath. I cannot give away my location. He must not know that I am aware of him. I tried to clear my mind, but my lungs were having trouble taking in clear breaths. My heart thumped so loudly that I just knew I would give my location away in a second.

I reached the end of the corridor and started up the stairs. They creaked under my weight, and I chewed on my lips nervously. Hoping against hope that he would not hear me. Would not come after me.

I tried to keep my mind empty, pushing back my thoughts and fears. I could not let my thoughts cloud my judgment. He sensed my thoughts. He would find me.

I was now on the second floor. It had all the locked doors. Each hiding a sinister secret. Each holding back a monster, too terrible to be set free.

Except for the last door. Which stood open its dark mouth, gaping at me and laughing at our foolish decision to put its demon loose.

It was no use, I knew I could not stay in this hallway. I was remembering things. It was all coming back, and as soon as I remembered how we had opened this door last week, I could hear him moving up the stairs. He knew I saw him. He was coming after me.

I turned around to look at the ceiling. This was the only way now. I had to face my fears. I was not only doing it for myself, but also for my brother. He was counting on me. I cannot let him down. Not again, I cannot lose him, too.

I locate the door to the attic and jump to grab the hook. The stairs spilled out. Before they could hit the floor, I caught them and bit my lips to hold in the gasp of anguish. He was still on the first floor. Banging doors trying to find me. I had to get out of here.

I started to climb up the ladder, its old rungs rickety and squeaky. Right when I was inches away, the rung came loose and fell onto the floor with a loud clatter. He was thundering up the stairs. I panicked, and pure fear coursed through my veins as I pulled myself up the attic and shut the trap door.

I slid a heavy box on it and sat against it. I could hear him pacing angrily, muttering, and talking to himself. I try to breathe in as I shut my eyes. Tears pricked my eyes, but they did not pour out. I cannot cry. I refuse to allow myself to be weak.

“You are weak.” My father's voice pierces through my memories. My heart beat anxiously as I slipped into another memory. My father was training me to fight. But I had fallen again. My brother was helping me up, but my father just pushed him away.

“What are you, a weakling? How dare you fall again? Why can’t you be strong? Did that ugly face damage your brain, too? You are nothing like your brother.” I looked over at my brother. His terrified eyes stayed towards the floor. He used to tease me and pull my leg, but we both knew who the real bully was. He stayed at home and had a wild temper.

I was so scared that day. I thought nothing could make me more afraid than my dad, but remembering this monster's cruel smile. I am terrified of him. Because I cannot escape him, he was the ultimate demon because he was my reflection that wanted to leave the mirror dimension.

The words beat against my head, “Your reflection looks like you, acts like you, smiles like you, but what if it wants to be you?”

He will kill my brother after he takes my place.

But I can stop him; my dad was wrong, and I am not weak. I know my strengths. I can stand up to him. I reach the window and push aside the heavy covers.

Outside, the moon shone brightly. It was being reflected on the glass, and so was my pale face. But it was not me.  I shut my eyes and pushed the window open.

A cold wind blew against my face, but the chill that crept up my heart was more intense. That creepy smile, he knew I was here. And I could hear him pounding on the trap door. He would be breaking in anytime. I pushed myself over the roof. The snow-laden roof was another level of torture for my bare feet. I grit my teeth as I start to move on the ledge.

I knew I had to jump. It would be an easy landing. It had been snowing for a week now, and I could jump; it would be as soft as a trampoline. I could never have prepared myself to jump, but the old stilts had carried my weight for a long time, then they could stay on, so they slipped, and I fell down screaming.

My glasses knocked off my face as I lay in the snow, my breath knocked out of me; it had not been that soft a landing anyway. He looked down at me from the window. I could not see his face, but I knew he was grinning wickedly. He wanted me, and he will take me. I had to run. I had to get away from him.

As a cloud covered the moon and darkness fell around me, the hair on my neck prickled as I realised that I could not really escape him. He would follow me.

I had to go back and face the Mirror Me.

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Mirror Me is my upcoming novel to be released by the end of this year. This was an extract from the novel. Stay tuned for more updates. Your comments will help me better shape this novel. Thank you for being my OG readers.