Drapetomania | Creepypasta

2.

august 13, 2017

Each sunrise brought with it the same predictable routine, unbroken and unyielding.

This particular morning, I had left home early, avoiding the usual familial exchanges that characterized our mornings. My steps carried me towards the school gates, and as I did most mornings, I reached for my phone to catch up on the world beyond my immediate existence. A handful of notifications blinked on my screen, prompting a curious tilt of my head. It was too early for most of my friends to be active; I wondered who could be reaching out at this hour.

Fingers tapped the most recent notification, and I found myself staring at a Twitter post, my own post, inexplicably on display for all to see. I blinked at the screen, grappling with a profound sense of disconnection. I hadn't authored this post—of that, I was certain. Or was I? Doubt gnawed at my certainty as I delved into the timestamp: 21:51 pm. It had garnered several interactions, eliciting a surprise I couldn't quite shake. I sifted through the responses, my brow furrowing as I discovered others posting similar messages, each with their unique twist. It piqued my curiosity, and I decided to initiate conversations with a few of them: 'Bea,' and a boy named 'Nitro' all of whom shared the same BST timezone as me.

The clockwork of my day resumed its relentless tick as I replied to messages, contemplating the peculiar turn of events. Emily, a constant presence in my daily life, chimed in with her customary greeting. "Good morning," her voice whispered like a well-practiced melody.

"Good morning, Emily," I greeted in return, offering her a wry grin as she began recounting the happenings of the previous night. She delved into her thoughts on posting new photos, sharing her photo ideas, to which I nodded in agreement. "You should. You look very pretty," I remarked, prompting her delighted squeals as she held onto my arm. This camaraderie, these fleeting moments, made the mundane journey to our shared destination, yet another math class, feel a tad less repetitive.

Midway through our math lesson, the raven-haired girl seated beside me broke through the cocoon of silence that usually enveloped our shared desk. "Y/n, have you ever had a sleepover?" she inquired, her eyes fixed on me with a mix of curiosity and earnestness. I hesitated, unsure whether to admit my lack of such experiences. But I swallowed my trepidation and shook my head. "No, not really," I confessed, albeit with a hint of uncertainty.

Her response was warm, filled with good intentions, as she extended an invitation. "Oh? Well, I usually invite friends over every Friday. Why don't you come along?" Her kindness tugged at my heart, and I managed a feeble smile. "I'll see what I can do," I replied, sensing an opportunity to bridge the gap between my solitary existence and the warmth of companionship.

The day unfurled, the minutes slipping away as I oscillated between the allure of learning and the digital world that beckoned. Blitz, one of the boys I have been friends with for many years messaged me, responding to my message from earlier, appeared to possess an uncanny sense of timing. "Hey, Y/n, how's school going?" he inquired, seemingly able to read my thoughts. I responded, my thumbs dancing over the keys to form words, concealing my phone behind my pencil case to maintain an appearance of attentiveness in class.

Our conversation flowed effortlessly, his responses arriving swiftly, and we found common ground in our shared disdain for uninspiring teachers. He, too, had his academic burdens to bear, his English class offering a counterpart to my math woes. Engaging with him offered a refreshing change of pace, a departure from the usual people-pleasers who populated my social circle. Emily, ever the vigilant observer, occasionally attempted to catch a glimpse of my phone screen, a subtle testament to her curiosity.