The buzz of your phone startled you from your evening routine. You glanced down, an unfamiliar number flashing on the screen. Curiosity piqued, you unlocked it. The message was short, unsettling:

_____ "They found me. It wasn't an accident.. I didn't have time to tell anyone else..."_____

Below the text was a contact name: Hannah Donfort.

For a few minutes, you stared at the message, a knot of unease tightening in your stomach. You almost dismissed it, ready to block the number and forget the strange intrusion. But something held you back. A flicker of empathy for the unknown sender? A morbid curiosity? Or perhaps a sense that this wasn't just a random mistake.

Hesitantly, you typed a reply:

______ "Who is this? What happened?"_____

The response was almost immediate, another short, frantic message:

_____"You have to believe me. They're watching. Tell my friends... Jessy, Cleo, Richy, Stella, Thomas... Tell them it wasn't Jake..."_____

Jake? Who was Jake? The urgency in her words was palpable, even through the cold screen of your phone. You felt a growing certainty that this was no joke. Someone was in trouble.

Driven by an impulse you couldn't fully explain, you decided to try and finalize these names Hannah had mentioned. A quick online search for "Hannah Donfort Duskwood" yielded results almost instantly: a missing person report field just days ago in a small, isolated town nestled deep in the Black Forest. Photos of a young woman with striking eyes and a warm smile filled the screen. The contrast between her vibrant image and the chilling messages sent a fresh wave of unease through you.

You found a forum dedicated to the search for Hannah, filled with worried posts from people claiming to be her friends. Jessy, Cleo, Richy, Stella, Thomas - their names jumped out at you from the screen.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to reach out. You copied the message from Hannah's phone and sent it to the most recent poster in the forum, a user named "Jessy89".

Your fingers hovered over the "send" button. This was it. You were stepping into something unknown, something potentially dangerous. But the desperate plea in the Hannah's message echoed in your mind, silencing your doubts.

You pressed send.

The reply came quickly:

_____"Who is this? How did you get Hannah's phone? Where did you find it?"_____

The message was sharp, accusatory, filled with a raw feat that mirrored your own growing anxiety. You know your next words would determine whether they trusted you, whether you could help unravel the mystery of Hannah Donfort's disappearance.

...*ignore this*...

(O pequeno pardal, chamado Pisco, acordou com o sol a espreitar por entre as folhas da velha figueira. Bocejou, esticou as suas pequenas asas e piou suavemente para a sua mãe, que já estava a esgravatar no chão em busca de sementes.

Pisco era um pardal curioso. Enquanto os seus irmãos se contentavam em ficar perto do ninho, ele sentia um chamado irresistível para explorar o mundo. Um dia, aproveitando um momento de distração da mãe, Pisco voou para longe da figueira.

O céu parecia infinito e as cores das flores no jardim eram mais vibrantes do que ele jamais imaginou. Viu borboletas a dançar no ar e ouviu o zumbido das abelhas a trabalhar nas flores. Tudo era novo e excitante.

De repente, uma sombra grande pairou sobre ele. Pisco olhou para cima e viu um gato a espreitá-lo com olhos verdes brilhantes. O medo invadiu o seu pequeno coração e ele piou desesperadamente.

Felizmente, a sua mãe ouviu o seu chamado. Voou rapidamente e, com um chilrear alto e agressivo, conseguiu assustar o gato, que fugiu para longe.

Pisco voou de volta para a segurança do ninho, aninhando-se perto da sua mãe. Aprendeu naquele dia que, embora o mundo seja cheio de maravilhas, o amor e a segurança do lar são os mais preciosos de todos. E assim, Pisco adormeceu, sonhando com as cores do jardim, mas feliz por estar em casa.)

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you stared at Jessy's rapid-free questions. You could feel the weight of their fear and suspicion radiating through the digital words. You took a moment to compose your reply, wanting to be truthful without sounding completely unbelievable.

_____" My name is Zora. I received a text message from Hannah's phone just now. I don't know her, and I don't know how I got this message. It was the only message on the phone."_____

You hesitated, then decided to include the crucial detail:

_____"She said to tell her friends - Jessy, Cleo, Richy, Stella, Thomas - that it wasn't an accident and not to trust Jake."_____

The reply was almost instantaneous again, a flurry of disjointed messages:

_____"What? You got a message now? But her phone hasn't been active..."_____

_____Jake? What does she mean about Jake?"_____

_____Are you the police? Who are you really?"_____

The barrage confirmed the group's desperation and the confusing nature of Hannah's disappearance. You understood their suspicion; a random stranger claiming to have a message from a missing person's phone was hardly a believable scenario.

You typed carefully, trying to sound as genuine as possible:

_____"I'm just a regular person. I have no idea why I received this. I saw your post online about Hannah, and I felt I had to tell you what she said."_____

A pause followed, longer this time, making the silence on your end feel heavy with anticipation.

Finally, Jessy replied:

_____"Screenshot the message. Send it to me. Now."_____

You quickly complied, taking a screenshot of both of Hannah's messages and sent it to Jessy. The small digital action felt significant, a tangible piece of evidence in this bizarre situation.

Another tense silence stretched before Jessy responded.

_____" Those are her messages... The way she types... It's definitely her."_____

A wave of relief washed over you, mixed with a fresh surge of unease. If it was really Hannah, then she was somehow still communicating, even after her disappearance. And her message apple of danger, of someone watching, of something more sinister than a simple accident.

Other members of the group started to chime in.

Cleo: _____" How is this possible? The police said her phone was untraceable."_____

Richy:_____" Jake? Who the hell is Jake? Hannah never mentioned Jake."_____

Stella:_____"Oh God, this is terrifying. What do we do?"_____

The chat became a flurry of questions and panicked speculation. You felt a strange mix of being an outsider and yet somehow Central to this unfolding crisis. They were looking to you for answers you didn't have.

Jessy sent you a direct message:

_____"Listen, Zora. We don't know you, and frankly this is insane. But if you really have Hannah's phone or if she somehow contacted you... you might be our only lead. Can you tell us anything else? Did she say anything more?"_____

You scrolled back through your messages, rereading Hannah's words. 'They found me.... It wasn't an accident... They're watching.... Tell my friends.... Not Jake..'

_____"That's all she said. Just those two messages. They came through about fifteen minutes ago."_____

Jessy's reply was thoughtful this time:

_____" Okay. Okay, everyone, calm down. Zora.... Thank you for telling us. This changes everything. We need to figure out how is this possible and what Hannah meant."_____

You had stepped through the looking glass, drawn into the dark and mysterious world of Duskwood. You were a stranger holding a ghost message, and a group of desperate friends were looking at you for a lifeline. The mystery had begun, and you were now tangled in its web.

What are your initial thoughts and feelings, now that you're directly involved with Hannah's friends?

what questions are foremost in your mind?

...~~~~...