I stared at it for a full minute before touching it.
My first thought? Someone’s messing with me.
Maybe the seller. Maybe some weird prank.
But when I picked up the phone, something felt… off.
The message didn’t open like a normal text.
No app. No interface. Just a black screen with white text:
“You weren’t supposed to take it.”
And then, below it:
Typing…
I dropped the phone.
I actually dropped it.
My heart was racing, but curiosity won again. I picked it back up slowly.
Another message appeared.
“Put it back.”
I looked around my room like someone might be watching me.
“Okay… not funny,” I muttered, even though no one was there.
I tried holding the power button.
Nothing happened.
The phone wouldn’t turn off.
Then it buzzed again.
“You opened it.”
“That means you’re part of it now.”
I wish I could say I shut it down, smashed it, or threw it out the window.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I typed back.
I don’t even know why.
I just… did.
“Who is this?”
The response was instant.
“Wrong question.”
“Ask what you took.”
At that point, I felt something shift.
This didn’t feel like a prank anymore.
There was no number. No messaging app. No way this should even be possible.
And then I noticed something that made my stomach drop.
The time on the phone… wasn’t matching my real time.
It still said 2:13 AM.
But my actual clock?
2:27 AM.
Another message appeared.
“Time doesn’t move here like it does for you.”
I hadn’t said anything about the time.
The next morning, I went back to the flea market.
Same spot.
Same tables.
But the old guy?
Gone.
I asked around.
Nobody remembered him.
Not a single vendor.
One woman even told me:
“Those tables have been empty for weeks.”
I went home, locked my door, and grabbed the phone again.
No new messages.
Just that same frozen time.
2:13 AM.
Until I turned on my lights.
Then it buzzed again.
“You went back.”
“You’re trying to undo it.”
My hands were shaking now.
“Undo what?” I typed.
There was a long pause this time.
Long enough that I thought it might be over.
Then:
“The last person asked the same thing.”
“We never found him.”
I stopped breathing.
“What do you mean ‘we’?”
The screen flickered.
For a split second, I saw something behind the text.
A reflection.
Not of me.
Someone else.
Standing behind me.
I spun around.
Nothing there.
When I looked back at the phone, the message had changed.
Not added to.
Changed.
Like it had always been this way:
“We found you.”
That was three nights ago.
Since then, the phone has been getting warmer.
Not hot. Just… warm.
Like it’s always on.
Always active.
Watching.
And the messages?
They don’t come at night anymore.
They come whenever I’m alone.
The last one I got, just an hour ago, said:
“Stop telling people.”
So yeah.
If this post disappears… or I stop replying…
Just know—
I should’ve left that phone where it was.
Edit:
The time just changed.
It’s not 2:13 anymore.
It’s counting down.