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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Random_User_499 on 2024-11-24 07:11:11+00:00.

It started as a joke, really. You know, the classic “Canadian girlfriend” bit — the kind of thing lonely guys say when they’re too embarrassed to admit they’re striking out. That’s what my friends thought I was doing, at least. I told them her name was Elise, and that we’d met during a trip up to Ontario last summer. When they asked where exactly in Ontario, I just shrugged and said, “Some small town. You wouldn’t know it.” I said it casually, like it didn’t matter. Like I wasn’t picturing her face every time I closed my eyes.

But here’s the thing: I can’t actually remember meeting her. Not the first time, anyway. I think… I was by the lake? There was fog, or maybe it was smoke, and her voice cut through it, soft and sweet, asking me if I was lost. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear I didn’t feel lost until she asked. After that, it was like I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

When I got back home, she’d call me late at night, whispering things that made my heart race and my skin crawl all at once. I never got her number; she just found me. My friends say it’s weird that I don’t have pictures of her or messages to prove she exists. My mom even gave me that sad, pitying look when I brought her up over dinner last week.

I get why they don’t believe me. I barely believe myself sometimes. But she’s real. She’s real. And tonight, she told me she’s coming to visit.

Elise arrived on a Thursday, just as the first snow of the season started to fall. I’d told her to meet me at this little diner near my apartment — a cozy, quiet spot where we could finally sit down face-to-face. I was nervous, but in an excited way, like the kind of jitters you get before a first date. My friends had laughed when I told them she was coming, of course. “Sure she is,” Matt said with a smirk. But this time, I’d show them.

When she walked in, the whole room seemed to shift. It wasn’t just me noticing her — the waitress stopped mid-order, and even the guy behind the counter turned to look. Elise was tall and willowy, her black coat dusted with snowflakes, her dark hair falling in loose waves around her pale face. She smiled when she saw me, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the diner.

“You’re here,” I said, standing up so quickly I nearly knocked my coffee over. My voice came out louder than I’d meant, and a few people glanced our way.

“Of course I’m here,” she said, her voice soft, almost musical. She slid into the booth across from me, her movements impossibly smooth, like she was gliding instead of walking. I couldn’t stop staring at her eyes — they were this strange shade of grey, like storm clouds, and they seemed to drink in every flicker of light.

We talked for hours. Or at least, I think we did. I can’t really remember what we said, exactly. It all sort of blurred together, like a dream you only half-remember when you wake up. I know I told her about my life, about how boring it had been lately. She listened, smiling that same faint smile, her head tilted just slightly to the side like she was studying me.

At some point, I realized the diner had emptied out. The waitress was gone, and the only sound was the faint hum of the fluorescent lights.

“It’s late,” Elise said, her voice breaking the silence. “Walk me to my hotel?”

“Of course,” I said, grabbing my coat. Outside, the snow had stopped, and the streets were eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that feels too big for a city. As we walked, Elise didn’t say much, but her presence was… magnetic. She brushed her hand against mine a few times, and every time she did, a chill ran up my arm. Not an uncomfortable chill, though — it was more like the kind of shiver you get when someone whispers too close to your ear.

When we reached her hotel, an old, run-down building I didn’t even know was still in use, she stopped at the door and turned to me. “Thank you,” she said, her grey eyes locked on mine.

“For what?” I asked, laughing nervously.

“For trusting me.”

Her words didn’t make sense, but before I could ask, she leaned in and kissed me. Her lips were cold, colder than the snow, but I didn’t pull away. When she stepped back, there was a strange look on her face, like she was… relieved.

“Goodnight,” she said, and then she was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the old hotel.

I stood there for a while, staring after her. The wind had picked up, and for a moment, I thought I heard something carried on it — a low, distant sound, almost like someone crying. But it was probably just the wind. At least, that’s what I told myself as I headed home.

The next few days felt like a blur. I kept thinking about Elise—about her strange, magnetic presence, the way she seemed to understand me in a way no one else ever had. My friends were still skeptical. I couldn’t blame them. They’d never met her, after all. They laughed when I told them about our walk to her hotel, calling it “just another one of those Canadian ghost stories.”

But things started getting… off.

It started with Matt. He was the first one to go missing. I’d seen him the day before, just hanging out at the bar. He made a joke about me and my “imaginary girlfriend” and I told him he would see that she was real at our next poker night, which was tommorow… But when I texted him the that evening to confirm, there was no answer. I figured he was just busy, maybe passed out drunk at home, but when I showed up at his apartment, the door was wide open, like it had been blown off its hinges.

There was no sign of struggle, no sign of Matt at all. His phone was on the couch, still buzzing with missed calls and messages. His keys were lying on the kitchen counter. The only thing out of place was a trail of wet, muddy footprints leading to the bathroom… and then, nothing. It was like he had vanished into thin air. I called the cops, of course. But they found nothing. No clues, no signs of forced entry, no explanation.

Then it was my mom. She was the next to disappear.

It was the strangest thing. I’d gone over to visit her, bring her some groceries—just the usual Saturday routine. But when I walked into her house, everything was normal. The lights were on, the TV was playing a rerun of some cooking show she liked. The smell of her roast chicken filled the air. But there was no sign of her.

I checked every room, called her name, even looked in the backyard. I thought maybe she was out with a friend. But no. The house was eerily still, and when I called her cell, it went straight to voicemail.

I waited for hours before finally giving up, the pit in my stomach growing deeper with every minute. I thought about her last words when we spoke, how she’d laughed when I told her about Elise, how she had tried to make me promise I’d stop seeing her. She didn’t believe me, either. She thought I was just lonely. Just imagining things.

But the thing is, I’m not imagining it. Elise is real. And now my mom’s gone. And Matt. And I think—no, I know—I’m next.

I didn’t go to the police. Not this time. They’d already looked at me like I was losing my mind when I reported Matt missing. When I went to my mom’s house and found it empty, they would give me that same look again. They’d just tell me to stop wasting their time. To them I was just making it all up, they had given me the same look my friends gave me when I talked about Elise. Like I was crazy, or desperate and lonely. Like they were caught between laughing at my “joke” or feeling sorry for my desperation.

But I wasn’t. Elise wasn’t some joke. She wasn’t just some girl I’d imagined. She was real, and I knew it now more than ever.

When I left my mom’s house, I tried to shake off the sense of dread crawling up my spine. I needed answers. I needed to know where they had gone. I thought about calling someone else—anyone—but I didn’t. It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t believe me, not after everything that had happened.

I came back to my apartment, exhausted, my hands still shaking from the search. I didn’t expect anyone to be there. But when I walked through the door, it felt like walking into the middle of something I couldn’t escape.

The living room light was on, casting a dull glow over the room. At first, I thought it was nothing—maybe I had left it on earlier, or maybe I’d forgotten. But then I saw her. Elise. She was sitting on my couch, her posture perfect, her eyes watching me with that same unnerving calm.

She just sat there, like she was waiting for me to say something. Her coat was the same as it had been the night we first met—dark, heavy, like she’d been walking through the snow. But the thing that struck me, that twisted my insides, was how… still she was. It was like she wasn’t even breathing.

“You’re the only one left,” she finally said, her voice like cold silk. “The only one who hasn’t… understood.”

I felt a chill run down my spine, but I didn’t move.

“You took them,” I whispered. “Where are they? Where’s my mom? Where’s Matt?”

She tilted her head to one side, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I didn’t take them, love. They’re just… elsewhere.”

The word elsewhere hung in the air, like it was something heavier than it should have been.

I felt my hands start to tremble. “Where? What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re asking the wrong question,” she replied, standing up slowly, almost like she was savoring the moment. “You should be asking yourself why you’re still here.”

I didn’t know what to say. My head was spinning. This didn’t make…

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