The Torchlight

It was late at night. The weather was musty and even the ceiling fan had lost its charm now. Chloe Sullivan was now getting slightly irritated. This next day's article was just not being perfected. There was something missing! She sighed. Annoyed. Looked up and around. She was alone in the room and the school.

I wonder was Clark is upto...

The night had taken a navy blue hue and the stars were shimmering in the sky. She looked out of the window. She was very sweaty. She wiped it off with a napkin.

Then she got back at it. Her article. After spending almost fifteen-to-twenty semi-fruitful minutes she was capable of saying that she was finally satisfied. She sighed. And leaned back on her chair. It was still dissatisfactory. She decided to redo it.

She checked the clock. It was around two-thirty. It was late, very late. She needed sleep. She had had not slept yesterday, too. She'd been working on a project assignment.

This is such a waste of my time.

She rubbed her neck with her palm. When she looked at her palm, it was full of sweaty.

I so want Clark here...

Her mind kept wavering off to him. There was a bittersweet sense of sorrow in her heart. She loved Clark, but Clark loved Lana. So, it hurt her. Deeply. But she couldn't do anything about it now. The musty room reeked of sweat and the desire to take a shower. Life's become so borin' lately... She thought. Slouching on the chair. She sniffed.

Scratched her head. And she tied her hairs behind her back.

Better this way. I'll feel less hot.

Summers had never been so damp in Smallville. But recently, global warming was really showing it roots.

Maybe the world is really doomed to hell.

She chuckled. And she started packing her things. Fuck the article! She put her things in her bag, and was about to switch off the computer when something tinged! It caught her eye. She scrutinized. It was an email.

An email!? At this time of the hour!?

For a second she assumed it must be some promotional spam. But she narrowed her eyes and looked at the mail. It was someone. The sender was named The Watcher. It piqued her interest. She clicked on the mail. It was just one word. Written in all caps:

BORED?

Her eyes narrowed as she put her bag down and grinned. What the fuck? She typed in: Who are you?

It took some seconds. And a reply popped up.

I AM THE WATCHER

She chuckled. The Watcher? Really!? The Watcher!? That was so... lame. I mean, my cousin brother can pull off a better codename. He's six!

And then, thinking as if what's the harm in it--after all, it was just a silly prank. She typed her reply: I do not know how this helps or who you really are. But if it helps you keep your balls tight, then yes, I am bored.

A few seconds again. And a reply came in again.

GOOD
I HAVE A GAME FOR YOU, SHOULD YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT

Should I choose to accept? Sounds like I've heard this somewhere...

What if I choose not to accept?

...

THEN I'LL SIMPLY GO AWAY

Chloe was surprised by the answer, a bit. She scratched her head again. And sniffed. She thought for a few seconds. Whether to play along on this silly dare or not. She rubbed her nose. Her chest was feeling heavy, now. She could feel her hands shaking a bit. The kind of soft anxiety you get before you are about to do something big. And breathed in.

Choosing to play along. And then she typed the answer.

I accept.