Storie of the day | Almost Famous Writers

Thriller

EPISODE N°1

The Last Story

Three women hear the same scream at the. Rushing to their windows, they witness the impossible: Lina, their childhood friend who disappeared at twelve, running through the night—grown, alive... and terrified. The next day, the news reports Lina as missing. Again. This time as a married woman, with a life she never had. Faced with a reality that no longer makes sense, the three friends decide to return to where it all began: Lina's old abandoned house. But the closer they get to the truth, the more time begins to fracture—and one question becomes impossible to ignore: what really happened at 22:47?

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Night had fallen without a sound, as it often did, and each of them had slipped into her routine without thinking. Nancy laughed with her children in the warm light of the living room, Maeve pushed through her reps, breath short, music pounding in her ears, and Eloise, alone in front of her screen, typed mechanically without really reading what she was writing. Then the scream tore through the air. Brutal. Close. Impossible to ignore.

All three of them froze before rushing to the window, as if the same instinct had struck them at the exact same moment. And there, in the street under the streetlights, they saw her. A woman was running, barefoot, her face twisted with fear, turning as if something was chasing her—but there was nothing behind her. The light caught her features for a second, just long enough.

There was no doubt.

It was Deva.

Deva. Their childhood friend. Gone at twelve. Never seen again.

And yet she was there. Alive. Grown.

Then she turned the corner and disappeared, as if swallowed by the night, leaving behind a silence far too heavy to be normal.

The next day, the café was full, loud, almost suffocating in its normalcy. Conversations overlapped, cups clinked, the espresso machine roared without pause. But at their table, everything felt suspended. They had been sitting there for a long time. Too long.

Nancy's coffee had gone cold, a thin dark film settled on its surface. Maeve's glass of water had long lost its condensation, leaving a faint ring on the table. In front of Eloise, the toast remained untouched; the butter had melted, then hardened again, glossy and uneven. No one was hungry. No one spoke. The silence had grown too heavy, as if each of them was waiting for the others to speak first.

At the back of the café, the television changed programs. No one reacted at first. Then the volume rose slightly, as if the world was forcing its way back in.

"A concerning disappearance was reported overnight. Authorities are actively searching for a woman in her thirties. Her name is Sarah. She is approximately five foot five, with brown hair and dark eyes. She was last seen yesterday evening, around 10:47 PM, at her home. Anyone with information is urged to contact the police."

The three women looked up at the same time.

The photo appeared on the screen.

Time stopped.

It was Deva.

None of them spoke. None of them moved. A moment passed—suspended, unreal. Then the image changed.

A man appeared on screen. His face was tense, drawn, his eyes red with exhaustion. His voice trembled slightly.

"She disappeared around 10:47 PM... she was at home... I... I don't understand..."

The words seemed to spread through the café without reaching anyone else.

10:47.

The exact time of the scream.

The moment they had seen her.

But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part... was him.

The three women stared at him for too long, without speaking, because none of them recognized him.

"Who is that...?" Maeve murmured.

No one answered.

Eloise slowly shook her head. "She never..." She stopped, unable to finish. Deva had never grown up. Deva had never had an adult life. Deva had never had a husband.

And yet this man spoke about her as if they had shared an entire life.

A wave of vertigo hit them.

Nancy inhaled slightly. Her fingers trembled, almost imperceptibly.

"Girls..."

No one answered, but they were listening.

"I know you're going to think I'm crazy... but I saw her last night."

Maeve slowly turned her head. "...What?"

Eloise looked up. "You saw her?"

Silence.

Then Maeve exhaled, almost too quickly: "Me too."

The silence shattered instantly.

Nancy stared at her. "What?"

"I saw her too."

Eloise looked at them, one after the other. Something shifted in her expression.

"Me too."

At that moment, there was no doubt left. They had all seen the same thing. At the same time. The same woman.

Deva.

The noise of the café faded away.

"She was running," Nancy whispered.

"Yeah," Maeve said.

"Like she was being chased," Eloise added.

"But there was nothing," Maeve said.

"Nothing at all."

A pause.

"That's not possible," Eloise whispered.

"No," Maeve replied.

Nancy lifted her head slightly. "It was her."

And no one disagreed.

Because deep down, they all knew it.

Their gaze drifted back to the television, but the report was already over, replaced by another story—something ordinary, as if nothing unusual had just happened.

Nancy gently pushed her cup. The small sound echoed.

"That was yesterday."

"We were all at our windows," Maeve said.

"At the same time," Eloise added.

Silence.

"So... what we saw..." Maeve began.

"...was her," Nancy finished.

A beat.

"What does that even mean?" Eloise asked.

No one answered.

Because they had just realized something worse than strange.

It was impossible.

Maeve grabbed her phone, almost abruptly.

"I still have the address."

The other two turned toward her.

"The house."

The word fell heavily, unmistakably. The one where Deva had lived before she disappeared. The one where everything had stopped.

They didn't need to say anything else.

They stood up almost at the same time, leaving behind cold coffee, untouched toast, an unpaid bill. Outside, the air felt colder, emptier. The city kept moving around them, indifferent—but something had broken.

Maeve moved first. The others followed.

Car doors slammed. The engine started. No one turned on the music.

At first, there was still traffic, lights, people. Then, little by little, the city faded away. Buildings thinned out, roads grew narrower. Silence settled inside the car.

"We never knew," Eloise said, without looking up.

"No," Maeve replied.

Nancy stared at the road. "Maybe we did," she murmured.

No one asked what she meant.

Because they were afraid of the answer.

The signal dropped. No service.

The road grew even narrower.

Then, in the distance—

the house appeared.

Still there. Motionless. As if it had been waiting for them all this time.

And in the silence of the car, the three of them understood, at the exact same moment—

there was no turning back.