Notes from the Checkpoint

The dust swirled down the hallway, fleeing from Emma’s swift broom strokes. A folded-up piece of paper skittered from the corner. She trapped it with her foot and picked it up. 

It read:

Happy Birthday

Eyes open, it’s much later than you realized. Who’s in the house?

Eyes wide, you peak through the clothes.

Emma quickly tucked the slip of paper in her pocket. She had been finding notes like it scattered around her house. Their messages were strange enough, but even more unsettling was that they were all in her own messy handwriting. 

She checked her watch. She was running late. 

“Are you okay?”

Emma sat across from her sister, Sam, at a small coffee shop. She didn’t remember planning to meet her, but one of the mysterious notes had a reminder for their coffee date scrawled on it. 

“Uh, yeah. Well, no actually, I’ve been feeling pretty weird lately...I think,” Emma said. 

Sam nodded and took a sip of coffee. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked Emma. 

Emma hesitated. She trusted her sister, but she didn’t know how to talk about what was going on. 

“I’m not sure what’s happening to me,” she said, anxiously tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’m having trouble remembering things, and I keep finding notes around my house in my handwriting that I don’t remember writing.” 

Sam leaned forward in her chair. “What kind of notes?” she said.

“Different kinds. Some are reminders, like the one I found about our coffee date today. Honestly, Sam, I don’t remember planning to meet you here. Others are like creepy little stories. I don’t know, it’s like I’m leaving clues for myself. And I keep...seeing the same scene, over and over again. It feels like a memory,” Emma said. 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. Studying her face, Emma could see her concern morphing into fear. 

“It’s nothing, I think I just need to get better sleep,” Emma said, fidgeting with the sleeve of her coffee cup.

Sam looked at Emma and took the hint to change the subject. “So, what are your plans for your birthday?” she asked Emma.

“I don’t have any yet. Any ideas?” Emma said. Her thoughts drifted to the cryptic note she had tucked in her pocket that morning, wishing herself a happy birthday. She thought about the rest of the message and it jogged the same memory. 

But Emma was certain it hadn’t happened yet. 

Emma stood at her counter chopping onions. The television played an old show loudly from the other room, and she laughed intermittently at jokes she once had memorized. She couldn’t remember them anymore.

It was her birthday. She had decided to stay in and make herself dinner because it was easier to be alone. Her memory loss complicated every conversation she tried to have, and she had a foreboding feeling that something big was going to happen tonight. 

A loud bang shook her house from roof to basement. Wiping her hands on her pants, Emma moved carefully to the window to look outside. She couldn’t see anything in the darkness. 

She heard a creak in the rafters and looked up. Emma’s breath quickened as she listened to something moving from one side of the attic to the other, toward the trap door that led into the house. 

She remembered this. She had seen the attic door slowly swing open a thousand times. And she remembered that it was time to hide.

Emma quickly and quietly crept to her closet. She crouched down in the corner and positioned her hanging clothes over her. Through them, she could see the lights on in her room. She put both hands over her mouth to muffle her panicked breathing. 

A thud sounded in the hallway: it was in the house. She listened as it moved through her living room and turned toward the kitchen. She heard it open the door to the basement and walk down the stairs. 

Tears came to Emma’s eyes. Her memory stopped there: she couldn’t remember what to do next. 

Emma’s mind was suddenly flooded with a new memory. In it, she stood in her kitchen and held another note that had been stuck to her basement door. It was in someone else’s handwriting. 

Resident:

Please excuse the interruption. There is nothing to be alarmed about as this is a regular inspection of this galaxy checkpoint. Be advised that my presence will likely have an effect on your memory. This is not a permanent condition but occurs so that I may communicate with you. I ask that you remain where you are as I complete the inspection. This will ensure that I can inspect the checkpoint thoroughly without interruption and will guard you against any unnecessary fear. 

Regards,

Ty-mun Ka

Galaxy Patrolman

Emma closed her eyes and shrank into the corner of her closet as she tried to make sense of everything. She had forgotten the past and remembered the future. Was it all in preparation for tonight? Maybe.

She wasn’t losing her mind, and she wasn’t some kind of prophet. She just lived in exactly the wrong place – above a galaxy checkpoint. 

She started to laugh with relief and muffled herself again. There’s still an alien in your house, she reminded herself. 

She had been hiding for an hour, trying to grapple with this new information, when she heard Ty-mun Ka move back through the hallway and into her attic. Another loud bang sounded as he departed. 

Emma crawled out of her closet on her hands and knees. She paused and listened. The television still blared, and she was alone once again. 

She walked slowly through every room and scrutinized each of them for a sign of what had just happened, but nothing was out of place. Approaching the basement door, she found the note exactly as she had remembered it. 

Emma collapsed onto her couch, exhausted after the adrenaline had drained away. Her head throbbed and her stomach growled, but she soon fell asleep. 

Emma woke up on the couch the next morning, ravenous and with a massive headache. She hurried into the kitchen to eat something. As she devoured a bowl of cereal, she noticed the diced onions on a cutting board from the night before. Why hadn’t she finished cooking?

After another bowl of cereal, Emma cleaned up the mess in the kitchen. She sat down at her kitchen table to sort through the mail that had been piling up over the last few weeks. Next to the pile, she found a stack of notes. 

She flipped through them and saw that they were all in her handwriting except for one. 

“That’s weird… what are these?” she said to herself. 

Her phone rang, and she set the notes down.

“Hey Sam, what’s up?” she said, answering the phone.

“Hey Em, how was your big solo birthday party?” Sam asked, chuckling. 

Emma rubbed her head, trying to recall what happened the night before.

“I... can't remember.” 

“Still having trouble with that, huh?” Sam asked. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about what you were telling me at the coffee shop. About your memory and finding little notes in your apartment?”

Emma looked down at the stack of notes. She picked up the odd one out and skimmed it. 

“Hello? Emma?” Sam said.

“Sam… I think there was an alien in my house last night,” Emma said, still looking at the note. Slowly, her memories were trickling back to her.

“Are you joking?” Sam asked, her voice quavering a little. 

Emma read the note again. She remembered crouching in her closet. 

“Yeah, just trying to spook you!” Emma said, forcing a fake laugh. “Sam, I have to go. I’ll call you later. Bye!”

Emma hung up the phone and turned to look at her basement door. 

It was time to do some exploring.