Shantali Mae Cross, a security guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Ancient Arts, encounters an impossible phenomenon during her night shift—smoke from the heating vents coalesces into the form of a cobra near ancient Egyptian canopic jars, showing her visions of possible futures. She sees herself accepting a promotion, arguing with a dark-haired man in a hospital, wearing a wedding dress, and standing at a graveside in autumn. Shaken by the experience, Shantali becomes obsessed with understanding what she witnessed, diving into research about serpent smoke divination practices. Her investigation reveals that others throughout history have experienced similar visions at crucial crossroads in their lives, but those who became consumed with interpreting and controlling their prophetic glimpses inevitably destroyed the very relationships and opportunities the visions had shown them. As Shantali spirals deeper into her research, she begins shutting out her boyfriend David, a fellow security guard who loves her deeply. When David witnesses the cobra phenomenon himself, he helps ground her in reality rather than obsession. Through her studies, particularly the warnings left by Dr. Amelia Thorne—a researcher who died alone after chasing similar mysteries—Shantali realizes the cobra's true message: choose love over fear, presence over obsession. The visions weren't warnings of tragedy but glimpses of a life fully lived with all its ordinary struggles and profound connections. When David proposes, Shantali chooses their real relationship over her pursuit of supernatural answers. She completes her research by writing a fictional novel about her experience, transforming obsession into art while helping future cobra witnesses understand that some mysteries are meant to guide rather than be solved. The story explores themes of choice versus destiny, the danger of sacrificing present love for future certainty, and the wisdom of embracing life's uncertainties alongside those who love us.
View MoreShe hung up and immediately turned off her phone, hating herself for the hurt she'd heard in his voice. But Dr. Thorne's warning rang in her ears, and she couldn't risk becoming another cautionary tale found dead and alone, surrounded by research that had cost her everything that mattered.Yet even as she dressed for work, she slipped the most relevant book into her bag. Just in case the cobra appeared again. Just to ask one or two questions. Just to understand enough to make the right choices.The October night was crisp as she walked into the museum, the familiar weight of her security badge and keys grounding her in routine. Garcia nodded as she clocked in, but she avoided eye contact, afraid he might see the obsession already taking root behind her eyes."Quiet night so far," he said. "HVAC's still acting up though. Maintenance called—they're coming at 3 AM instead of waiting until Thursday."Shantali's heart raced. "3 AM? They're fixing the vents tonight?""Yeah, emergency call.
She stared at the text, then at the ancient warning on the page before her. Was she already following Khenti's path? The very act of researching these prophecies felt like the beginning of the obsession the texts described.But she needed to know more. In Dr. Thorne's posthumously published journal, she found a passage that made her heart race:The serpent smoke phenomenon appears to manifest during periods of intense electromagnetic activity around certain artifacts. My preliminary research suggests that individuals with heightened sensitivity to these fields may experience what can only be described as temporal displacement—brief glimpses into probability streams rather than fixed futures. The danger lies not in the visions themselves, but in wanting to understand more about them so that the receiver can control the outcome. If you are reading this and have seen visions given by the cobra, don’t overthink the visions, live your life with those who love you, not what ifs, or all that
She still had her Thursday night shift to get through maybe if she found the cobra again she could get her answers and still be able to go to dinner with David. A part of her just wanted to curl up into his arms, but what if the images she saw was to do with him? Could he be in danger? What if she could save him?David’s message chimed on her phone: I can’t wait to hold you on Friday, its torture when we’re at work together and I can’t hold you properly. God only know how I wish I could kiss you while on shift. I miss you Tali, love you. I want to ask you something important tomorrow night. I’m counting down the hours to hold you, David.Shantali's chest tightened as she read David's message. Something important to ask her—her mind immediately jumped to one of the visions she'd seen in the cobra's smoke. The white dress, standing before an altar. Was that what he wanted to ask about? A proposal?She set the phone face-down on her kitchen counter without responding, unable to reconcile
Shantali grabbed her phone and stood. "My shift ends in two hours. I'm finishing it."She strode past him, ignoring his sigh. In the corridor, she checked that he wasn't following before making a sharp turn toward the security monitoring room instead of returning to her patrol route. The night supervisor, Garcia, was on his dinner break—she'd have fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, to review the footage herself.The monitoring room hummed with the soft electronic breathing of a dozen screens. Shantali slid into the chair and quickly navigated to the Egyptian wing's camera feeds, rewinding to 2:45 AM. She watched herself enter the frame, flashlight beam sweeping methodically across the displays.Then she stopped, just as David had described. The camera angle showed her profile as she stood facing the canopic jars, her posture alert but not alarmed. No smoke visible. No cobra manifestation. Nothing but her, frozen in place while the timestamp ticked forward: 2:46... 2:47...At 2:48, she saw
Shantali Mae Cross had been working security at the Metropolitan Museum of Ancient Arts for eight months when her life fractured along lines she never saw coming. It was a Tuesday night in October, 2:47 AM according to the timestamp on her incident report—though she would never file that report.The emergency lighting in the Egyptian wing had been flickering for weeks, casting strange shadows that danced across the sarcophagus displays. As she rounded the corner near the Ptolemaic collection, she noticed what appeared to be smoke drifting from the direction of the cobra-headed canopic jars.Fire protocol demanded immediate action, but as she approached, her flashlight beam revealed no flames, no heat, no acrid smell of burning artifacts. Instead, the smoke carried the scent of jasmine and aged parchment, swirling with impossible precision into the form of a cobra, hood spread, regarding her with eyes like glowing embers.In that moment, Shantali saw her future unfold in the serpent's
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