Mystic Messenger Unknown Messages Novels & Stories

But what catches my attention is the blinking icon at the top. A new message. Received fifteen minutes ago. Impossible. The number should be dead. But then I remember—Declan. Of course Declan kept the account active, paying religiously for six years, keeping the number alive in the hope that one day I would call. I open it with trembling fingers. Sender: unknown number. The text is short, encrypted, and hits me with devastating force: “Sirius, is that you? Please, be you.” My breath catches in my throat.

I spent the rest of the day drawing in work, meetings as well as preparations for the upcoming events I was planning on hosting for both charity and the Art school. Deciding to let my eyes and head rest for a while, I rested my head at the back of my seat, staring up at nothing in particular. My phone beeped, probably a message from Samantha, reminding me of another meeting or something...So I thought. The message was from an unknown sender...No number was attached to it...Weird. There was a name attached to it "Secret keeper." The message was: "I know something no one knows." Short, no detail on what the secret was, nothing. There was no word about the secret but I was a bit shaken, wonderi

With me. Me: Stay away from her. Unknown: Or what? You'll come punch me too? Please. You're spread too thin, Hayes. Fighting a war on too many fronts. Something's going to give. I'm just waiting to see what breaks first. The messages stopped. No matter what I sent back, there was no response. I called Kieran again. "I just got a text from our mystery player." "What?" He was fully awake now. "What did they say?" I forwarded the conversation. Waited while he read it.

Every time we closed the distance, somebody stayed one step ahead. Then another detail caught my attention. I reread the report carefully. Twice. A third time. And suddenly I noticed something strange. The message ordering the transfer wasn't sent from Richard. Or Lydia. Or Victor. It came from an account identified only by a single initial. "M." Nothing else. No name. No identifier. Just one letter. I looked up immediately. "Who's M?" Morris shook his head. "We don't know." The answer unsettled me more than I expected.

Single message from an outside number I didn't recognize. I opened it. Four words. “We need to talk.” The sender ID resolved after a three second delay. Elder Maren.

Hey. The message sent. I ended the night without a response.

Though everything was change i dunno why but in this new world ill try to find you and be with you all over again ----------------------------- *TRICYCLE (PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION* it all starts from a single of message of MJ “Who the hec* is that MJ?!” “it nothing okay” “Mary Ann for real! who is that MJ!?” “Nothing, John Carl! just don’t mind him! please!” “No, I saw your conversations with him on messenger.”

“I couldn’t possibly be better.” He smiles against my skin, kissing the top of my head before finally pulling away. “Good. Sleep well, sugar.” And then, just like that, I’m alone. When I get home, I unlock my phone to check my notifications. I have a flood of messages from buyers, one from Damien letting me know his jet landed, and a TiKTok from McKenzy of a goat wearing a scarf. She’s already in her room decompressing from the night, and I shoot her a heart reaction. Then my screen lights up with an unknown number. An international number, at that. I hesitate before answering.

The photograph. Everything felt unrelated. That was what bothered me. Coincidences didn't usually happen one after another. People liked to believe that life was full of accidents. I didn't. There was always a reason. You just had to find it. My phone vibrated underneath the desk. A message from an unknown number. I stared at the screen. Unknown: You should stop asking questions about Mia Bennett. My eyes didn't change. My breathing remained steady. I typed. Me: Who is this?

How do you know my name? Immediately a reply came back. Unknown: Thank, fuck! Can't talk now! Erase the messages and tell no one of them. I'll be in contact again. Within seconds, I shot one back at the unknown messenger. Me: Who is this? I stared at the screen, waiting, but after several seconds passed, I realized the person wasn't going to respond to my inquiry. Restless, and uneasy from the strange message, I didn't know what to do with myself, so scooting the chair back, I headed toward the bar. The devil you knew, was better than the one you didn't.