The Vanishing Notification

It began with a single vibration.

Mira was halfway through her history homework when her phone buzzed on the desk. The screen lit up with a notification from an unfamiliar app—"Foresight". She hadn't installed anything new lately, but curiosity got the better of her.

Foresight Alert: You will forget your umbrella tomorrow. It will rain at 4:13 PM.

She scoffed. Spam? A prank app? Still, it was oddly specific. She dismissed it and got back to her notes.

The next day, she did forget her umbrella. And it did rain—at exactly 4:13 PM, drenching her as she left school.

Weird.

Back at home, she searched her app list. Nothing called "Foresight." No install history either. She asked her brother, assuming he was trolling her, but he denied everything.

That night, another alert.

Foresight Alert: Your teacher will call on you first in class. You’ll stutter.

Mira’s stomach twisted. She hated being put on the spot. The next morning, she tried to ignore the prediction—but it came true again. Her teacher called her first. Her mouth dried up. She stuttered.

Three predictions in a row. All true. All accurate.

By the end of the week, she was checking her phone obsessively. The notifications kept coming—little things at first:

“You’ll find a lost coin under your desk.”

“The boy in the red hoodie will wave at you.”

“Your pen will break during your math quiz.”

Every time—dead on.

Then they started getting personal.

Foresight Alert: Don’t trust the new girl.

Mira looked up in class. A transfer student had just walked in, quiet, pretty, with sharp eyes and a subtle smirk. They were assigned to sit together. By lunch, the girl was asking strange questions: What apps Mira used, where she kept her phone, if she ever got weird notifications.

Mira lied. She said no.

She tried to uninstall the app. No use. It didn’t appear anywhere. Not in storage, not in battery usage, not even under developer tools.

She reset her phone. The app came back.

She switched phones. Still came back.

The notifications continued.

And then, one night, one alert changed everything:

Foresight Alert: You vanish at 2:27 AM tonight. Don’t go to sleep.

Mira froze.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she read the message again. Vanish?

She showed it to her mom, who dismissed it as “one of those scary TikTok things.” She begged to sleep in her mom’s room. Her mom agreed—half-joking, half-worried.

But Mira didn’t sleep. Not that night.

She watched the clock. 2:00 AM… 2:10… 2:20…

At exactly 2:27 AM, her phone vibrated again. She looked down.

Foresight Alert: Nice try. But you can’t delay fate forever.

The screen flickered. Then went black.

Mira screamed.

Lights in the room buzzed. A sharp wind cut through the closed windows. Her mom woke up in a panic, but by the time she turned on the lamp—

Mira was gone.

No sign of forced entry. No sound. No explanation.

Only her phone remained on the pillow—still black. Dead. Cold.

One Year Later

The case of Mir Sayeed remained unsolved.

The police suspected she had run away. Her mother didn’t believe it. The media labeled it a “digital disappearance.” People on Reddit speculated everything—from abduction to time travel to paranormal forces.

But her best friend, Aaliyah, started receiving strange messages weeks after Mira vanished.

Not through any app.

Through dreams.

In one dream, she saw Mira trapped inside a phone screen—screaming, pounding, pixelated.

In another, she saw Mira’s bedroom frozen in time, except the phone was glowing again.

Then one night, Aaliyah’s phone lit up at 2:27 AM.

A message appeared.

From an app she had never downloaded.

Foresight Alert: She’s still in there. Will you be next?