Three

A mysterious man came up to me in one of my dreams. He was wearing a soaking wet cloak and a huge hat covering the top half of his dim face. He reached for my arm and bent over, whispering something into my trembling ears.

"Your life has been measured with words. You've got three more left before you die. Use it wisely while you're out there in the waking world. Your entire life and relationships may or may not depend on that, but it is up to you to determine where your last words go. Good luck."

I woke up catching my breath. I felt dampness on my arm, as if something or someone wet has touched it. I remembered the mysterious man in my dream and everything he had said to me. I tried to understand and decipher whatever that meant, but I had to make sure I'd be alive by the end of the day... or at least, until I have used up my last three words.

I shook it off as merely a nightmare. I stayed lying down next to my sleeping, unaware wife until the sun eventually came up, rays hitting my face as the morning shook everyone awake. My wife rolled around to face me. "Good morning, honey," she said. I smiled and gave a small chuckle, then I kissed her on the forehead. She giggled and sat up, did a small stretch, and smiled at me before she stood up and exited the bedroom. I heard shuffling outside of the bedroom door, then the faint sound of running water from the bathroom. I sat up on the bed and looked at the alarm clock on my bedside table—it read 6:13 AM. My son would have been awake by now to prep for school. I heard more shuffling outside, doors opening and closing, footsteps descending the stairs, shuffling from the kitchen just below the bedroom. My wife's preparing breakfast.

After a few more minutes, I stood up, made the bed, then exited the bedroom, finally. My son just finished taking a bath and was entering his bedroom to dress when I got out. I went straight into the bathroom, steam from my son's warm shower still flowing out from the bottom of the doorway. I entered and started washing my face. In the mirror, I saw a disheveled man, tired and growing gray strands of hair, bags forming under his weary eyes. A stubble has also started growing from below his lower lip. I sighed and opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror to get a razor, annoyed at how I couldn't seem to be allowed to grow a beard without it affecting my job. It's "unprofessional," they say. I audibly scoffed and proceeded on shaving.

I took a quick shower and got out of the bathroom to dress, vaguely even remembering the nightmare I had the night before. I went down to the kitchen to the smell of warm coffee and fresh toast, my wife and son greeting me with a smile. The entire breakfast time was uneventful, nobody said a single word nor even muttered to themselves.

My son and I prepared our stuff to leave while my wife stayed to clean the dishes. I kissed her goodbye and proceeded to the car with my son. I put my briefcase in the backseat when I noticed something was missing—my wristwatch. Must have left it in the bathroom when I took it off to take a shower. I motioned to my son that I'd leave him there for a second then jogged my way back into the house. "Hurry up, Dad!" I heard him shout from inside the car, just before I opened the front door.

Inside, everything was awkwardly silent. My wife, who was just cleaning up 30 seconds ago, was now nowhere to be seen. The kitchen was neat and tidy and there was no sign of a full breakfast happening in the past 20 minutes or so. I figured she was in the bathroom so I proceeded upstairs to continue retrieving my wristwatch. The narrow hallway led me to the wide-open bathroom door. I was certain that my wife wasn't there, but found it weird how the light was on and how there was steam still coming out of it when I've finished showering a full half hour ago.

I slowly crept towards the bathroom, every step landing slowly and softly, as if avoiding to make any kind of noise. I didn't know why I did so, but I somehow felt scared and anxious from the eeriness of today. The bathroom was completely empty. I wanted to believe that I forgot to turn the light off and close the door, since I have obviously forgotten my wristwatch as well anyway, but my memory offered no recollection of anything like that happening—not in the morning, at least.

I looked around the bathroom searching for my wristwatch. It was nowhere. I looked on the sink, the toilet, the cupboards, even inside the shower, but to no avail. I was already feeling frustrated when I remembered how I opened the medicine cabinet to get a razor for my stubble. I must have left the watch there by accident and forgot about it. I did what my assumptions told me to, but again, to no avail. There was no wristwatch among the random assortment of bottled prescription pills and generic children's vitamin tablets. I closed the cabinet, defeated.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, my entire body froze in fear. There, right in front of me, was not an image of myself, but that of the mysterious man in my dream the night before. He was still wearing that soaking wet cloak and huge hat, covering his eyes but staring directly at me. I didn't see it, but I felt it. I felt how his eyes followed mine, how he stood still in front of my trembling body, how he smirked, then grinned, then eventually laughed maniacally. A wretched image of my wife and son appeared beside him, and they, too, laughed maniacally.

I mustered up all the energy I had and covered my ears. I gritted my teeth from the squealing noise that the images were making. My skull felt like it's breaking as the laughing figures slowly showed their eyes to me—entirely black and soulless. It felt like they were sucking me in. But no, I've got three words left to live. It's not my time to die—not now.

"Stop! Please, stop!" I screamed as loud as I could. The figures stopped laughing and everything grew still. I looked back and the image of my wife and son were gone, leaving only the cloaked figure. Steam quickly filled the room out of nowhere. My eyes widened as the cloaked figure reached out its hand and grabbed me by the throat from inside the mirror.