My mother and sister were in front of me, right before my eyes. My little brother was asleep in the room and hadn't woken up yet and my father was not home anymore. but whose hand was this? Suddenly, my hairs stood on its end, a wave of fear engulfed my entire body. As I tried to slowly turn my head to glance at my shoulder, the hand that had just touched me, yanked me backward. It wasn't very strong to hurt me but forceful enough to change my direction slightly.
I immediately stepped forward, trembling with fear, looked back. But look at what? There was nothing there. Behind me there was only a wall. Nothing else.
"What's wrong, Daniel?" my mother called out when she saw my sudden movement.
"Someone touched my shoulder and pulled me back." I said.
"Huh? What are you making up?"
She squeezed her eyes and looked at me with annoyed face.
"I'm not making it up. I felt something on my shoulder."
As I said this, my sister opened the door.
"I'm leaving."
"Be safe" my mother replied.
But I couldn't say anything. Because what I saw when I glanced toward the door made my earlier fear intensify.
It wasn't the thing I saw actually. It was something I couldn't see.
"Where's the shoe from earlier?" I muttered to myself with a confused expression mixed with fear.
I immediately rushed to the shoe rack and stared at it intently.
No, the shoe wasn't there. My sister's shoes were gone, but that was normal. She was wearing them. But my father's identical shoe had been here earlier. Where did it go? Did she take it? But why?
"What's wrong, sweetie? Why are you so worked up?" my mom said.
She was starting to get worried. My behavior seemed strange to her and I can't blame her. My actions would look weird to anyone.
I quickly opened the door and called out to my sister:
"Diana, did you take Dad's shoe from here?" I asked.
"What shoe? I only took mine. Whatever, I'm leaving."
"Wait a second!" I said, rushing out of the house without even putting on my shoes, just in socks.
"Didn't you see dad's shoe in the closet?"
"No? Should I have? Dad's wearing his shoes and waiting for me outside."
My sister's confused answer frightened me even more. How could she not have seen it? Where did the shoe go?
"I'm late, don't hold me up. Bye bye," my sister said, hurriedly descending the stairs.
"Bye," I replied, walking back into the house slowly, still processing what had just happened.
"What's wrong with you?"
My mother had put down what she was holding in the kitchen and come to the door. The worry on her face had deepened.
"Dad's shoe was here earlier, right? It's gone. Diana didn't take it either."
"What shoe?" she asked confusedly.
Her question baffled me even more.
"What do you mean, 'what shoe'? We both saw it earlier! The one identical to Dad's. Didn't you just call him for that?" I replied.
My explanation didn't seem to convince her.
"What are you talking about? What shoe? What call?" she asked, her gaze a mix of confusion and concern.
But why? Didn't she see it herself? Didn't she call dad just a moment ago?
"Wait, I'll prove it." I said.
An idea came to me. I'd check my mother's phone to prove she had called Dad.
I went to the kitchen, grabbed her phone from the table, and opened the call log. And just as I expected—the most recent call was to Dad.
"Look, this is what I'm talking about!" I said, turning the phone toward her.
She looked at the phone's screen.
"That call is from yesterday evening at 6," she said, pulling the phone away and staring at me.
"What?" I blurb it out in a sudden.
I quickly checked the phone myself. The call was indeed from yesterday at 6 PM. But what about the call from earlier? Where was it? Did she delete it? It is impossible because she never deletes her calls.
I checked the deleted calls folder. Even if she had deleted it, she wouldn't have deleted it from this folder. She barely knows how to use her smartphone beyond making calls or watching videos. My siblings or I usually handle everything else.
I looked at deleted calls carefully but there was no trace of dad's call in the deleted folder. The most recent deleted call was from three months ago.
"Are you messing with me?" my mother snapped, growing irritated.
"I'm not. I'm serious. The shoe was here, and you called him to ask about it!" I replied with a slight panic.
"Why would I call him about a shoe? What's gotten into you all of a sudden? Wait. Did you watch a horror movie last night again?!" she raised her voice.
"No! I swear. I was studying. I didn't even turn on the computer after 9 PM yesterday. My phone was in the kitchen anyway."
I tried to explain but she did not look convinced.
"Then you're messing with me. Whatever, stop wasting time. Go change your socks. You went outside without shoes and now you're looking for your dad's pair?"
As she spoke, she moved to the other side of the table to continue her work.
"Change your socks quickly and get to studying. You're already late." She repeated.
"Fine, I'm going," I reluctantly agreed.
I walked slowly to my room, still unable to process what had happened. How did the shoe appear and disappear? Whose hand touched my shoulder? Why did it pull me?
Let's say I let go off everything I just said, but how did my mother forget about the shoe? Wasn't she the one who called dad for the shoe? I really don't get it. Maybe I'll ask Dad tonight. Maybe Mom is playing a prank, but given everything that happened, it makes no sense. Am I dreaming? Could that be it?
Thinking this, I bit my finger again. This time, I bit harder, but nothing changed except the teeth marks on my finger. Resigned, I changed my socks, put on my shoes, and checked the closet one last time. Nothing. No sign of Dad's shoes or anything else. What is happening to me today?
Lost in these thoughts, I began walking to school. Along the way, I kept replaying the day's events: the bathroom incident, the shoe appearing and vanishing, my mother's behavior. None of it made sense. It felt like my mind was playing tricks on me. Why? I'd never had issues like this before. My days were always normal—no mysterious shoes, no people forgetting things. But now, there was multiple things at once. Maybe, what I saw was wrong.
By now, I noticed there were no students on the road. Our neighborhood usually had many kids attending to my school, but today I saw none. I pulled out my phone to check the time and realized why street was empty. I was late.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and sped up. I was already 10 minutes late and there was no need to run. At this pace, I'd reach school in 3 minutes.
As I predicted, I arrived in 3 minutes. Our school was large, but my classroom was near the entrance. After passing through the gates, I reached the classroom door, knocked, and entered.
I noticed fewer students than usual. Not a big deal, but for a class known for high attendance, the sudden drop was odd.
The teacher allowed me to take my seat. As I sat down, I heard noise from the corridor. The door opened, and about 10 students walked in. All of them were my classmates.
"Sir, may we enter?" one of them asked.
"You may."
The teacher didn't seem surprised. But how? Ten students arriving late all at once, and he acted like it was normal? Maybe I'm overreacting? I mean, it could be. The morning's events had already unsettled me, and now this strangeness…
One of them was Luke, my desk mate. He came over, greeted me, and shook my hand.
"Where were you all?" I asked curiously.
"Overslept," he replied without hesitation.
"Overslept? All of you? At the same time?"
I couldn't hide my surprise. Though I didn't know everyone's exact addresses, I knew they lived far apart. For all of them to arrive late with the same excuse was bizarre.
"Yeah, never mind that. Ready for the test?" Luke dodged my question and redirected. I didn't press further, despite the oddness.
"Yeah, I studied physics till 3 AM."
"I woke up 2-3 hours early and reviewed a bit," he said, opening his notebook to take notes.
Wait, did I hear him correctly?
"Luke, didn't you say you overslept?"