This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Physical_Sky_8721 on 2024-11-08 02:04:18+00:00.

Until a couple of days ago, I was certain cell phones saved my life.  

Back in the before-times (I’m bringing out my old man voice here), we wrote so many things on paper:  Quick notes, directions, addresses, and most of all, shopping lists.  When used up, they mostly made it in the garbage bins since those were on many street corners.  

Even with the bins everywhere, some of these papers ended up on the ground. Sometimes they slipped out of our purses and pockets, other times they just missed the garbage.  There these papers would lie until a good Samaritan picked them up for garbage, or folks like my friend, J, and I picked them up. 

J and I enjoyed collecting these scraps of paper.  We loved figuring out the stories about the hidden lives of the people all around us through the hints in these pieces of paper.  We were fascinated to see what things people were buying.  Sometimes you would find a common theme around the list: “tomatoes, bell peppers, Italian seasoning, noodles” … the person is planning an Italian meal; “bread, lunch meat, cheese, juice, nuts” … someone planning their lunches.  

The fun ones had stars or underlined items emphasized, something that set those lists apart from all the rest.  If we were really lucky, my friend and I would find a short note or letter instead of the shopping lists.  Go near a school and you’d be more likely to find the special mom note: “Love you honey! Have a great day at school.”  Maybe it had the rare dad note: “You can never go hungry at a magical beach … not with all the Sand Witches around!”  These notes, though, could appear anywhere.  It was the special notes that we found just wandering the city that had the special appeal to us.  

For the two of us, this became a joyful hobby.  Lots of scraps of paper that we’d pick up and eventually recycle, so we were saving the planet as well.  It was harmless fun.  

Until it wasn’t.

I still have the piece of paper that started everything off.  Below is everything it says:

“3/15/05 Groceries.  Sodas.  Waters.  Powerade.  Pizza.  Pasta Dinner.  Lasagna (party next week).  Chips (party next week).  Salsa (party next week).  Tomatoes.  Peppers.  Cayenne.  

I see you picking these up.”

I called my friend with the paper in my hand.  

“Umm, J.  Just found this on the ground.”

“That’s a cool one!”

“Yeah … cool.”

With just a quick phrase, we blew this off as just a list with a special note and moved on.  

A couple of weeks later, I got a call from J. 

“So, maybe that wasn’t just a cool note after all.”

“Huh?”

“That ‘I see you picking these up’ note.  Yeah, I don’t think that was just a cool note.  I found one too.  Starts out with a shopping list.  But then it ended with ‘I see you picking these up also.’”

J and I got together and compared the shopping lists.  The handwriting on the items was the same on each slip of paper.  The handwriting at the bottom was the same on both slips of paper too … but different from the handwriting of the items.  While technically we were invading the privacy of others (especially when those weren’t shopping lists lying on the ground), we were also picking up trash in public spaces.  This was the private lives folks didn’t mind leaving around town (or maybe it slipped out of their pockets, but still, in the public space).  These messages seemed … directed.  Like an invasion of OUR privacy.

“What do you think these mean?”

I shrugged.

“I guess we have our own special note now.”  J’s voice - if my memory is correct - lifted at the end of the sentence.

"I guess so.  Not sure I want it.”

“Me neither. "

Through the next weeks, we could see the effects of the cell phone’s advancement.  Cheaper and cheaper phones had cameras and texting was easier, so paper was less necessary.  Still, we found some slips here and there.  There was nothing out of the ordinary on those slips.  Not until the middle of the summer. 

“It says, ‘Why are you still picking these up?’”

“You got that one too?”

“Yeah.”

“Are we doing anything wrong?”

“Wrong?  What is wrong about picking up paper?  We’re cleaning up the sidewalk at the very least.”

“Right, right.”

December of 2005.  The loose paper is harder to find, but every slip now comes with a message from this thing that’s following us.  

“Ha!  Cleaning the planet.  Whatever you say.”  “This is what you had for dinner last night.”  “You two have predictable patterns.”

More details slipped into the notes.  Whatever was leaving them could hear and see us.  It commented on our clothing, our meals, even our sleep.  

The stalking became more obvious with the last few slips that we found.  

“Watched you snooze your alarm twice.”  “I have a knife.”  “Do you recognize these?” and some squares of our clothing.

The last slip we ever found happened when my friend and I were out together.  We passed a school and a piece of paper was lying on the sidewalk.  We looked at each other and debated on picking it up.  On the one hand, the possibility of a guardian’s note - the prize finds.  On the other hand … we didn’t want to know what the bottom would say.  The wind picked up a little and one of us stepped on the paper so it wouldn’t blow away.  

“I guess that means we’re picking it up.”

This slip of paper was only a special message to us.  This time, the coloring was off, a dried rust color.  The message was “I’m watching you right now.”

We ripped up the paper and found the nearest trash can.  

J and I took any of the papers we hadn’t yet recycled and we quickly made plans to burn them all, especially those with the strange directed notes.  We created a bonfire on the night of a full moon.  We threw whatever spices and plants we could find into the fire between notes.  J and I knew nothing (still don’t know anything) about demonology and exorcisms.  We just knew we needed a little nature and something cleansing between the notes.  

My friend and I hoped this would be the end of everything.

2007 brought the advent of the iPhone.  With that, the slips of paper were done.  

I hadn’t thought about these messages or the time my friend and I had this hobby for a while now.  Except I found a piece of paper in front of my car at a parking lot.  It was flipped written side up and all it said was: 

“I’m still watching you.”