Don't Turn to the Last Page

The collection of stories in your hand has no author, no preface, and only a scrawled warning: "Don't turn to the last page." The first page is the sound of footsteps in the corridor late at night. You followed it for three days, and on the fourth day it stopped at the door of your house. On the second page, there is an antique mirror that always smiles at you when you look in the mirror, but you know that you are not smiling at all. On the third page, there is a live video of an abandoned hospital. Everyone in the barrage is saying the same sentence: "Who is that behind you?" If you believe it, you think, just don't read the last page. But the story just plays a joke on you on the page number - when you think you have just read half of it, the page has quietly bottomed out. You turned the penultimate page tremblingly, and the last page stood out in front of you. There is only one line of writing on it, and the handwriting is as fresh as if it had just been written: "You saw me." And in the mirror behind you, something is smiling at you. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Don't turn to the last page—unless you're ready to be seen by it.