A cold touch

A long time ago, people were really into talking about spirits. Everywhere you went, stores had little charms and books about them. Some books even claimed you could call a spirit to talk to you.

I was young then, curious about strange things. One day, I got my hands on one of those books. It said if you followed the steps carefully, you could reach out to a spirit. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t tried.

That night, I was alone in my apartment. I sat on my bed with a notebook and a pen, ready to write whatever happened. I followed the book’s steps, saying the words it told me to say. At first, nothing happened. Then, all of a sudden, words filled my head. Without thinking, I started writing them down. The strange thing? The words were making rhymes, like a song. I asked the spirit its name, and my hand wrote down an answer.

Right after that, the whole room changed. It felt like something huge was in there with me. The air got heavy. The wooden desk across the room made loud cracking sounds, like it was being pushed. Then, out of nowhere, tiny golden lights floated down from the ceiling, like falling dust. But instead of feeling safe, I was terrified.

I begged it to leave. I ran into the bathroom, shut the door, and stood by the sink, eyes closed, whispering for it to go away.

Then, I felt it.

A cold touch, right between my shoulder blades. I gasped and spun around, but no one was there. And just like that, the room felt normal again.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. But my back still felt icy. I lifted my shirt to check in the mirror—and there it was. A large, purple mark, shaped like an oval. It didn’t hurt, but it looked like a deep bruise.

Later that night, I told my boyfriend what had happened. When I went to show him the mark—nothing. It was completely gone.

I never tried calling a spirit again. I threw the book away. Even now, I still wonder—what really answered me that night?