* **A Chilling Note: “Don’t Drink the Coffee”**

THE ODD NOTE LEFT ON MY DESK SAID, “DON’T DRINK THE COFFEE.”

I was pouring my morning coffee when a crumpled note fluttered from under my keyboard. I picked it up, my fingers brushing against the rough paper, and unfolded it. Just three words, stark and unsettling: “Don’t drink the coffee.” My stomach clenched.

The silence in the office, usually filled with the distant hum of computers, felt unnaturally deep. A metallic tang, like old pennies, filled the air, making my throat tighten. Was someone playing a prank? This wasn’t funny.

I stared at the steaming mug, the dark liquid swirling innocently. Then I noticed it – a faint, almost imperceptible discoloration on the rim, like something had been wiped away, but not completely. My mind raced, trying to grasp what I was seeing.

“Who is doing this?” I demanded out loud, my voice cracking, echoing faintly against the cubicle walls. A sudden chill swept through the room, raising goosebumps on my arms, despite the usually warm office.

Suddenly, the fluorescent lights above my head flickered twice, then went completely dark.

👇 Full story continued in the comments…The darkness was absolute, swallowing the room whole. Panic clawed at my throat. I fumbled for my phone, the smooth glass cold against my trembling fingers. As my screen lit up, I saw the time: 7:57 AM. Right on schedule.

Before I could find the flashlight app, a soft scratching sound, almost a whisper, reached my ears. It seemed to be coming from my desk, right where the note had been. I held my breath, listening intently. The scratching grew louder, rhythmic, like something was systematically trying to peel away the surface.

Then, the phone vibrated in my hand. A text message. I squinted at the screen, the pale light barely illuminating the words: “They know.” My blood ran cold. Who knew? Who were “they”?

The scratching stopped. A low growl, guttural and menacing, rumbled from beneath the desk, followed by a sickening slithering sound. Fear seized me, paralyzing me. I wanted to scream, to run, but I couldn’t move.

Another flicker from the lights above. Then, a green glow started to seep from the coffee mug. It wasn’t just a faint discoloration anymore. It was a sickly, luminescent green that spread across the rim, like a disease.

A shadowy figure began to take shape in the darkness, coalescing near the coffee machine. Its form was indistinct, a swirling mass of darkness, but I could make out the glint of two eyes, burning with the same green light that now pulsed from the mug.

My mind screamed at me. Drink the coffee. Get out of the office.

I knew I had to choose. But my body didn’t obey.

I stumbled backward. My hand brushed against the edge of my desk. I knocked over the coffee mug. It shattered on the floor, the green liquid spreading rapidly, a putrid pool of light.

The figure hissed, a sound like air escaping a punctured tire. It lunged, its dark form hurtling towards me. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable.

But nothing came. I opened my eyes. The green light had vanished, the darkness was receding. The emergency lights flickered to life, casting the office in a dim, red hue. The coffee mug lay shattered on the floor, the remnants of the dark coffee staining the carpet.

A familiar voice broke the silence. “You okay?”

It was Mark, a colleague from the other side of the office. He was fiddling with the light switch. “Power outage, I think. Pretty spooky, huh?”

I stared at him, speechless. My heart pounded in my chest. The note. The darkness. The figure. The coffee. Was any of it real?

I glanced at my phone. Still at 7:57 AM.

“Did you…did you see anything?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Mark looked at me, confusion etched on his face. “See? No. Just the power went out. You okay? You look pale.”

He seemed genuine. The office was eerily normal.

I looked at my desk. The note was gone.

I shook my head. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I managed, my voice cracking. I needed to get out of there, immediately. “I think I’ll just take a break.”

As I stood up and walked toward the door, I noticed a small, almost imperceptible stain on my sleeve. A faint, green shimmer.

The words of the note echoed in my mind: “Don’t drink the coffee.” It seemed I had made the right choice. But what had I escaped? And what did that stain mean? The office, that morning, had held a dark secret that I couldn’t quite understand, but knew I’d never forget. The feeling of unease lingered long after I left the building. The coffee, indeed, had been a test, and the office, a cage.