Skype



 Skype

I'm sure you've heard of Skype. It's a free, instant-messaging program, allowing voice and webcam chat with people the world over. I've been using it to keep track of old friends: we all went off to college a fortnight ago. Last week I was talking to Annie, a girl I used to go to school with. We'd both just moved into our flats, we were both single and the first semester hadn't yet begun - so we found ourselves with plenty of time to chat. Usually, we'd Skype at least once a day. The stuff we talked about isn't hugely interesting: she'd bought new headphones, I had watched The Princess' Bride  for the first time. It was just nice to have some familiar company amidst a time of such great upheaval, you know?

Anyway, it was a Tuesday morning. I'd been out clubbing the previous night, and was pretty groggy and hungover, but I was awoken by the plaintive buzzing of a Skype call. Cursing the fact that I'd left my laptop on and massaging my temples, I stumbled out of bed.

“Hnngh... Hello?”

My bleary-eyes struggled to focus on the painfully-bright monitor before me. Annie was, of course, dressed, made-up and grinning, sporting her new headphones. She gave a cheery wave, to which I responded with a half-smile.

“Well aren't you the life of the party this morning?” She teased.

“You should've seen me last night. My dance moves put the whole club to shame.”

“Big-Fish-Little-Fish doesn't impress anyone. Hey, don't you have an introduction meeting with your tutor today?”

I glanced at my calender, but the ink refused to stop squirming on the page. I assumed she was right, but even the small amount of sunlight that seeped into my gloomy domain, under the curtains, was eye-watering.

“Yeah, fuck that.” I groaned “What about you? What're you doing today?”

“Hoping to get a call from Erin. She just took-off yesterday, during a fire-drill. She left a letter on her desk, saying that she was going home.”

“Which one's Erin, again?” I asked, half-serious. You know how it is: your friends talk about so many people that they just blur together after a while. Annie made an unimpressed face.

“My flatmate. She lives across the corridor from me. She just vanished. I mean, it's only been a day, but we were thinking about calling her parents, just to check up on her.”

I shrugged:

“Do it. Better safe than sorry, eh?”

Before she could reply, there came the sudden shrieking of an alarm. Annie said something which was drowned-out by the noise, and I covered my ears, wincing.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">“Wh-what did you say?” I asked. She had to shout directly into the microphone:

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm">“''I said: that's the fire-alarm! I'd better go outside, or the Warden will have a fit and make us do the whole thing again.”''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">“What time shall I call back?” I asked, raising my voice as much as my pounding headache would allow.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm">“''Don't worry: I'll only be gone for, like, five minutes. I'll just leave Skype on.”''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">With that, she was gone; pulling the headphones off, and placing them on the keyboard. After a few minutes, the alarm cut-out.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">Then the door opened. It wasn't Annie, though. It was wearing a blue boiler-suit, stained with paint, a beanie-style hat, and mask made from the bleached skull of some kind of goat or sheep. My eyes were drawn to its hand, however: a rubber glove, wrapped around a hook: the kind you see behind the counter in butcher's shops. For a few seconds, I just sat there, numbly wondering if this was Annie playing a creepy joke on me. Then I snapped into action.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” I yelled “Who are you?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">There was no response from the figure. It couldn't hear me: the headphones were still plugged-into Annie's laptop. Instead, it simply stood there, taking-in the room. Ten seconds later, it began to approach the desk. I fumbled for my phone. I had to warn Annie! I selected her number from the speed-dial, not taking my eyes off the figure on-screen. It was peering intently into the camera: eyes glittering behind empty sockets.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">Dialing tone...

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">Click.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">Ringing.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">The masked figure froze. Then, slowly and deliberately, it reached its free hand off-camera. I squinted against the pixelated image, then my heart sank.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">It was holding Annie's phone. She'd left it on her desk.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">The figure cocked its head to one side, throwing me what I presume was supposed to be a pitying look, before it hit the off-button on the mobile and placed it beside her laptop. It reached into its pocket, produced something white and dropped it atop her keyboard. I only saw it for a second, but it looked like an envelope.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">It then wandered across to her wardrobe, opened the door and climbed inside: stooping to fit. It hesitated as it did so, and turned to look directly at the webcam. The light caught its teeth, as though it were flashing me a cruel grin. Then it pulled the wardrobe shut.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">I glanced down at my phone. I had to call the police, there was no question of that, but even as I dialled the first '9', I realised the futility of the gesture. There would be the bother of them finding and contacting the department in Annie's city, fifty miles away. I called anyway.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">Dialing tone...

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">Click.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">Ringing.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm">“You're through to the Emergency Services: which service do you require?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">“Yeah, I need to talk t-”

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">I paused, mid-sentence.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">I had paused, because the door had opened and Annie hurried inside. Her hair was wet from the rain, and she smiled as she approached the webcam. I yelled as loud as I could for her to run, and I felt the tears pinching the corners of my eyes. Annie didn't hear me. She sat down, picked up the headphones and began to adjust the strap-length.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-style:normal">Over her shoulder, the wardrobe door stirred.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm">“''Hello, sir? Which service do you require? Sir?”''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm">“''Sir? Are you hurt? Do you need an Ambulance?”''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm">“Are you still there?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm">“Sir?”