When the Call Came at Midnight

The rain that night wasn’t just rain. It felt heavier, like the sky was trying to wash the city away.

I had just set my phone on silent when it buzzed. Unknown number. No name, no country code. Against every instinct, I answered.

“Don’t go to the pier tomorrow,” a voice said, low and urgent. “If you do… you won’t come back.”

Click.

I stared at my phone. I laughed nervously, maybe a little too loudly. A pier? Me? I didn’t even know one existed around here. And yet… there was a tightness in my chest, like my body had remembered something my mind hadn’t.

The next day, I took my usual walk home, trying to shake it off. And then I saw him.

He was leaning against the railing of a café, coat collar up, rain tracing lines down his jaw. There was something about him… quiet, sharp, dangerous.

When our eyes met, he didn’t move. He didn’t smile. And somehow, I knew that he was the one who called.

And, against every logical thought, I wanted to see that pier.

____________________________

Some calls leave questions unanswered; something you can’t ignore.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he just… existed in that moment, leaning against the café railing, like he belonged to a different world. My rational mind screamed at me to ignore it, but curiosity tugged harder than caution ever could.

The next evening, the rain started again. It wasn’t just drizzle. Tt was steady, relentless, filling the streets with that clean, wet smell I used to love as a child. I told myself I wasn’t going to the pier, but the thought of him was like a whisper in my chest, daring me to see it for myself.

I walked slower than usual, letting the water soak my shoes and jacket. The city lights blurred in the puddles, reflections dancing like tiny stars. And then I saw it. The pier. Just a few blocks away, more hidden than I’d imagined. Wooden boards slick with rain, railings glistening. And there he was.

He didn’t notice me at first. He was staring at the dark water, hands gripping the rail as though it held him upright. I wanted to call his name, to break the silence, but something in his stance told me to stay quiet.

“I warned you right? Still, I knew you’d come,” he said finally, without turning his head. His voice was softer this time, almost vulnerable.

“I… I don’t even know you,” I said, my words trembling despite the chill. “How do you know me? Why did you call me last night?”

He finally looked at me. His eyes were stormy, like the sky above us, and I felt like I could drown in them. “Some things you have to see to believe,” he said. “Some warnings aren’t just words. They’re chances to change what comes next.”

The pier creaked under my boots as I stepped closer. My heart raced in a way that felt both dangerous and thrilling. I wanted to ask a hundred questions, but I realised the answers wouldn’t come easily.

“I shouldn’t be here,” I whispered. But my body betrayed me. I couldn’t leave. And neither could I ignore him.

A flash of lightning reflected off the water, and in that sudden, blinding moment, I saw something I wasn’t expecting — fear, yes, but also a strange kind of invitation.

And then I understood. This wasn’t just a pier. It was the start of something I couldn’t yet name, something that would pull me closer even as it threatened to undo me.

____________________________