A Story About Jenna - Fee Thomas

You had been scrolling your favorite writing site when you saw a story with your name in the title. “A Story about Jenna”, you thought Oh my name is Jenna so you clicked on it out of curiosity. There had been no description of the story, only the repeated words “A Story about Jenna”.

This is an odd story you think. What in the world is this even about? So far the story has only been describing what you were just doing and just thinking. But it wasn’t too hard to guess how a person would react to the beginning of this story. You’re curious to see where this is going, it’s a bit odd but unique, you don’t see such a meta story so often. You can’t think of the last time you’ve read a story in second person. All the same, though, your eyes wander over to the exit button, wondering if this is really worth your time, you have some work to do after all.

I know you’re thinking about clicking off this story Jenna Watkins. Don’t. I’m not done with you. You’ll want to see where this is going, I’m sure, but you know what they say about curious cats. 

You feel a sense of dread at being addressed so directly by what’s supposed to just be a story. It’s one thing for a story to be about a “Jenna” but it’s another thing to have the name it says to be exactly your own. it’s like it was written for you. But surely, you think, this is just a coincidence. The character in this story just happens to have the same name as you. That’s bound to happen to some people. It’s not like “Jenna” or “Watkins” are extremely rare names or anything. 

Let me clarify, Jenna, who I’m talking to. I’m talking to you Jenna Lily Gwyneth Watkins.

Your heart falls to your stomach. That’s your name. That’s your full exact name. You know the chances that there’s anyone else named that, fictional or real, is highly unlikely. Your hand grips your necklace, the one with the opal stone and copper wire wrapping. The chord, made of purple and black string twinning around each other. It was a gift from your grandma, a former professional jeweler, she made the whole thing herself. Why does the story know about your necklace?

Part of you wants to stop, to run away, pretend this whole thing was one weird coincidence. But you’re a real curious cat Jenna, you can’t just walk away without sticking your nose into this. You have to see where this is going. I know all about you Jenna. I know you want a pet cat but can’t because of your allergy. I know you took the bus today to eat at your favorite cafe. I know just an hour ago, you finished watching a Youtube documentary about the invention of cheese whiz. Very interesting video, might I add.

Your hands grow clammy as you tighten your grip on your necklace, the wire wrapping digging into your hand. You hold your breath as if that would somehow hide yourself from me. Your other hand grips the desk, you’re lucky it’s not real wood, or you would be getting some splinters right now. You slowly get up and back away from the desk and stare at your computer as if it was on fire. Even in all your fear, you still read the writing, and you know that every single word is correct.

Do you want to skip to the end of the story? Could you dare yourself to scroll down to see what’s written. Would it tell the future? Could you avoid that future? Would the words change to reflect the new future? Maybe the story will keep going and going, and you’ll find no end to it. Do you want me to tell you what you’ll find? There’s no need too. You’ll get there. You won’t skip either, I know you, and you wouldn’t do that. You’re scared to see what’s down there, yet you’ll read it all, all the same.

You could still prove me wrong, go ahead, close your laptop. When you open it again the story will be gone and all traces of it will be wiped from the internet. Could you really deal with not knowing Jenna?

You aren’t sure what to do or what’s going on. Is there someone stalking you? You consider your phone charging out in the hallway, you want to call for help. Do you want to try calling the police, Jenna? It’s not going to help you, they can’t do anything about me. Besides, if you leave you can’t read what happens next. Can you resist the temptation to read? Even for a few minutes?

You slump back into your seat resigned yet determined to see where this goes. I’m glad I have such an attentive reader. You don’t like whoever is writing this. You were never a fan of people who liked to scare others for fun. Whoever was doing this was taking this to the next level, it’s a terrible prank, you think.

Do you want a spoiler? No? I’m going to give you one anyway. You’ll die at the end. 

Not of this story, though. Your story. Your life’s story. Ha. Gave you a scare there didn’t I? No, you’ll survive another day, and then the next and the next and the next after that. You’ll die eventually though, one day.

I guess I could try to kill you if I wanted to, I don’t though. No, I want you to live. It’s much more fun that way, more juicy. I want you to finish this story and have to live with the memory of whatever this was.

There’s something I want you to know, I’ll come back one day, maybe I’ll even visit multiple times, I won’t tell you when or where or how many. I’ll come, though, and I’ll do this all again.

You glare at your screen, trying to use anger to cover up your swirling feelings of worry and unease. You think that you just won’t use this website again and you’ll be safe. You won’t Jenna, I have other means of getting to you. I could send you an email, a letter, fill your screen with ads, fill your local billboards with ads, I can make it that even when you try to read a book from the bookstore, It’ll just be me again.

I want you to live and remember this moment, this day. Forever. It will be a day that haunts you like a nagging inch. You’ll look back on it and wonder who I am, and why I would do this and what I got out of this. I want you to worry about what will happen when I contact you again. I’ll keep you on edge the rest of your life. No piece of anything written is safe from my grasp.

Until then, see you later Jenna, lovely speaking with you.