The Spirit of the Pen: Myself

My roommate got me to play the pen-spirit game and asked the spirit what it was.

The pen trembled as it wrote three words: “Your dad.”

I laughed in anger and told the spirit to say something I didn’t already know. It wrote, “You stayed up all night yesterday, and used a tissue in your left hand to wipe off your sweat.”

The dorm fell silent. I was the only one who stayed up all night.

That detail was something only I knew.

I thought someone was playing a prank, until I recognized the crooked handwriting

It was exactly like mine.

The pen spirit fell silent.

Then new words slowly surfaced on the paper:

“Li Mo, you’ll die in the library five years from now.”

“I came back to save you.”

“Don’t tell anyone. And don’t trust anybody.”

“Not even me.”

Wait.

If the pen spirit is me from the future,

then why would my future self warn me not to trust him?

After that day, my left hand began writing on its own.

Sometimes, deep in the night, I see another version of myself in the mirror.

He’s bleeding. He’s smiling. He mouths the words:

“Run.”

[The Pen Spirit: Me, Myself]

You didn’t summon the pen spirit.

The pen spirit... summoned you.