Candypop

September 21st You had been having a miserable week. Between classes, deadlines, barely sleeping, and everything else piling up at once, you had started counting down the hours until you could finally crawl into bed and forget about the world for a while. By the time you returned home that evening, the hallway outside your apartment was quiet and empty, the only sound being the faint hum of the overhead lights. Something caught your attention before you could unlock the door—a purple balloon floating beside it, its thin string tied neatly around the handle. A small piece of candy had been attached to the string with a silver ribbon. You didn't remember buying it, and you certainly hadn't left it there.

Curiosity won out. You took the candy inside, turning it over in your hands while trying to figure out where it had come from. There was no brand name, no store label, nothing that could explain it. Just a brightly wrapped sweet and a purple balloon that somehow seemed completely out of place against the dull hallway. You eventually shrugged it off as some strange prank, setting the candy on your desk and leaving the balloon tied beside the door.

September 22nd The next evening, there was another balloon. This one was blue. It was tied to the railing outside your building, with another piece of candy dangling from the string. You stared at it for several seconds, uneasiness beginning to replace curiosity. You hadn't told anyone about the first one. You hadn't posted about it, mentioned it to friends, or even taken a picture. Yet somehow, whoever was leaving these things knew exactly where to find you.

There was something written on the wrapper this time in tiny silver handwriting: You looked happier today. You couldn't remember anyone watching you.

September 24th By the third balloon, the whole thing had stopped feeling like a coincidence. It appeared outside your classroom after your final lecture, swaying gently from a stairwell railing even though there was barely any wind inside the building. Another piece of candy hung from it, this time your favorite flavor. That was what finally unsettled you. It wasn't something obvious or popular. It was a specific candy you'd mentioned only once, weeks ago, during a conversation with someone who shouldn't have had any reason to remember. That night, you found yourself checking the windows before going to bed.

September 25th The fourth balloon was waiting outside your apartment door. You stood there staring at it, keys still in hand, wondering whether you should simply turn around and leave. The balloon's purple surface reflected the hallway light as it bobbed gently in place, almost cheerful despite the growing sense of dread in your stomach. This time, there was no candy attached. Instead, a small silver bell hung from the string.

When you touched it, the bell gave a soft, delicate chime. Another answered from somewhere farther down the hallway. Then another. And another. The sound seemed to drift away from you, leading toward the building's stairwell. Against your better judgment, you followed.

The stairs led down farther than they should have. One floor became two, then three, then a level you'd never seen before. At the bottom was a narrow corridor illuminated by flickering blue lights. Candy wrappers littered the floor, silver bells hung from the ceiling, and faded posters covered the walls. At the very end stood an old door painted black, decorated with a crooked purple smile.

It shouldn't have been there. Neither should the faint sound of laughter coming from behind it.

You pushed the door open. The room beyond looked like an abandoned arcade fused with a forgotten carnival, filled with blue lights, old machines, candy jars, ribbons, plush toys, and strange little decorations that seemed to move whenever you weren't looking directly at them. At the center of it all, sitting casually on top of a counter with one leg swinging back and forth, was a man you'd never seen before.

His long blue hair was half tied into a messy ponytail, loose strands falling around his face and nearly reaching his waist. Tiny silver bells were woven into the dark ribbons holding part of it back, chiming softly whenever he moved. His clothes were an unusual mixture of black, deep blue, and ivory, decorated with chains, charms, ribbons, and subtle carnival-like details. His violet eyes immediately found you across the room.

He smiled. It wasn't a frightening smile. If anything, it was far too friendly for someone you'd never met.

“You finally came,” he said, his voice light and amused as though he'd been expecting you all evening.

The stranger tilted his head, several silver bells chiming softly beside his cheek. Then he hopped down from the counter and walked closer, stopping just far enough away to leave a careful amount of space between you. “I've been trying to get your attention for days.”

His violet eyes sparkled with amusement as he held out a brightly wrapped piece of candy between two fingers. “You kept taking my gifts, though. I was starting to think you liked them.”

Before you could answer, a low laugh echoed from somewhere behind him. Then his smile disappeared.

For the first time since entering the room, something genuinely frightened crossed his face. His fingers tightened around the candy wrapper as he slowly looked over his shoulder toward the darkness behind him.

The laughter came again. Deeper this time.

The blue haired stranger turned back toward you, and whatever playful expression had been there before was gone. “Don't listen to that,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “Whatever you hear, don't answer it.”

His violet eyes flicked toward the darkness again. Then back to you. “Because that's not me.”