X Marks the Spot

             I awake to the sound of my phone vibrating on the table next to me. I look over at my alarm clock. It’s three in the morning. I grab my phone, groggy and a little pissed that someone is calling me this early. I don’t even check to see who it is.

                “What?” I say, harsher than I mean to. There is no immediate answer, all I can hear is breathing. Who calls someone at 3 in the morning and just breathes?

                “Look if you don’t have anything to say I’m going back to sleep.” I say, even harsher than the first comment. I wait a couple seconds but still no reply. I finally think of the brilliant idea of checking my caller idea. But my genius plan was no help. Whoever the mysterious breathing stranger is, they called from a restricted number. Normally I would play along and try to figure out which asshole friend of mine is playing a practical joke on me, but I’m way too tired. I hang up without another word and shove my face into my pillow, which turned out to be a really bad idea. There is something hard under my pillow. That’s strange because I don’t remember putting something under there. I lift it up and find a little wooden box with a big red X on the front. Okay now I’m officially creeped out. I’ve never seen this box in my life. And how the hell did it end up under my pillow.

                I hear a noise and it scares the hell out of me. I look over and my phone is buzzing, guess what the caller ID reads? Restricted number.

                “Okay who the fuck is this and what do you want?” I practically scream into the phone.

                “X marks the spot.” That is all he says before he hangs up.