A strange letter appears on the desk overnight, calling the narrator to the old oak tree at sunset.
The envelope was grey and slightly crumpled, with no stamp and no return address.
It was lying on my desk when I woke up, as if someone had slipped into the room while I slept.
I stared at it for a long moment before I reached out. My fingers shook as I tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of plain paper, covered in neat handwriting.
Don't tell anyone about this letter. Come at sunset to the old oak tree at the edge of the forest. I am waiting. This is important.
I read the words twice, then a third time.
Waiting for me?
I went to the window and looked across the fields. The old oak stood alone on the hill, its branches black against the pale morning sky. Nothing moved beneath it. No one was there.
Yet.
Who knew my name? And why did they want me at the forest edge when the sun went down?
A cold feeling crept up my spine. I folded the letter, then unfolded it again, as if the message might change if I looked long enough.
Outside, a crow landed on the fence and fixed me with one bright eye.
By sunset, I would know whether to go.
Unless someone found me first.