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I found the poster just after school, stapled to an electric pole. I believed it to be a fortunate opportunity when I read it. It was some sort of overnight job. Great pay, it said. $100 per hour. I was shocked to see such a huge number; who could waste an opportunity? Interested, I read the rest. This rich dude at the fancy estate down the neighbourhood needed a night guard to watch over the mansion for burglars. It was a simple job, it said. To be honest, I didn’t spend much time reading it. As soon as I saw the pay, I found the nearest phone booth and called the person. They answered after three rings.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m calling about the night watch job?”

“Oh, yes,” the person at the other end said. It was a middle-aged man. “I’m Matt, the owner of the Hillsview Estate. You know, Bridgewood Avenue? And you are?”

“Emily,” I said. The poster never said anything about a minimum age for the job, but I thought it would be a good idea anyway to tell him how old I was. “I’m grade 11.”

“A high-schooler! Even better. I intended the job to be for a teen, you know? They always need the money. Adults too, but whatever. Anyways, so you probably want to know more details about the job. It’s only for Friday night, a one-time thing. It’s because I’m out of town for the night, and I’m trying to save money from using bodyguards. There can be a lot of burglars whenever they know I’m away. I try to keep the lights on, to make it look like somebody’s home, but they don’t care all that much, they always find out anyway. So, basically, you just watch over the house and make sure nobody’s sneaking in, from 6pm to 9am. Every hour is a hundred bucks. If anything happens, all you have to do is push this hidden emergency button behind one of the couches, I’m sure you’ll find it. That will alert me, and will immediately call the police, too. You’ll be safe, don’t worry, it also initiates lockdown mode for the house, and will give you instructions to the panic room. Sounds cool, Emily? Do you have any questions?”

“Not any at the moment.”

“Alright. You cant text me at this number if you want to know anything. The address of the place is on the poster, I’m assuming you already know. You come in at 6 and relax for the night. You can help yourself to anything in the fridges or cupboards. You can go anywhere too, but I suggest staying in the living room, only because it’s the safest room during lockdown mode and the emergency button’s there too. Plus, you can enjoy my fireplace and flatscreen TV. I’ll be back in town by morning, so you’ll get paid as soon as I get home.”
“Alright, thanks. I got it. Friday, right?”

“Yes. There’s also one last thing you need to know. Or, rather, a bunch of things.”

“Okay. What are they?”

“Too much to say at the moment. It’s kind of a list of rules you have to follow when you’re staying over the night at my house. I’m sure you can follow them all just fine. I’ll send you a list of them before Friday, and you can go over them.”

That was fine with me. It would make sense such a rich estate owner would have some rules about visitors in his place. They would probably be like, “Don’t touch the ancient artifact collection in the basement,” or, “Don’t play around with the state-of-the-art security systems.” 

“Alright, I’ll make sure to follow them,” I said.

“Don’t let me down!"

I went to school as usual for the next couple of days. At Thursday afternoon, I finally got the list of rules, sent by Matt as a text. I opened the message and planned to read them carefully:

Don’t have the lights on between 9 pm to 11 pm. I’ll leave candles. 

At 6 pm, check if the light is on in the attic. If it isn’t, you’re good, go anywhere you want. If it is, never go in the basement.

Don’t look at any mirror past 1 am. You may cover them up if you want to use the bathroom.

About three times during the night, the television will turn on at max volume. If any channel plays, simply turn it back off. If the screen turns blood red, sprint as fast as you can to the bathroom and lock the door. Drop everything. I don’t care what you’re doing at the moment, don’t waste a second getting to the bathroom.

The painting in the living room may be upside down. Every four hours, check if it is. If it is, simply turn it back right side up. You may have to do this more than every four hours.

One of the first things you should do when the sun goes down is to go to the kitchen sink and make it run. Leave it trickling all night. DO NOT FORGET TO DO THIS.

At around midnight, you may hear a scream in the distance. Lock all doors and shut all blinds when this happens, if you haven’t already. After this, turn off the lights and never turn them on again for the rest of the night.

At around 2 am it’ll get really cold. Don’t bother turning on the heating, it won’t work. If the lights start flickering, close your eyes and don’t open them until the room goes back to normal temperature. If you feel something tap your shoulder behind you, ignore it. Never open your eyes until the room warms up.

At around 3 am during the night, you may hear a knock on the door. Never answer, no matter who they say they are. Even if it’s me. I’m serious, you have to remember this. The knocker will try to get you to answer three times before leaving. 

At any time during the night, you may hear the phone ringing. Again, ignore it. Again, even if it’s me. Don’t even look at who is calling. This is important.

Enjoy your stay. I’ll be back by morning :)

At first, I thought Matt was just pranking me. Such a bizarre set of rules. Was following them really necessary? Was this all some sort of joke? But I promised him I’d follow them. He was expecting me to. Even if they were strange, I suppose I had to. There were parts that confused me though. Why was I not allowed to answer the door or phone if it was Matt? What if he needed to talk to me? Did burglars pretend to be him? Yeah, that must be it. What else could it be? My phone didn’t have a plan anyway. If Matt wanted to call me, he’d have to do it through his home’s phone. And apparently I wasn’t allowed to answer.

When Friday came, I packed a bag full of things for staying overnight and rode my bike to the estate. 

I did all the things he asked me to, making sure to keep a checklist of the rules. After plugging in my phone to charge and leaving my stuff on the kitchen counter, I went to the sink and opened the faucet ever so slightly, just so there was the slightest trickle of water. Then I went to find his attic. It took a while but I eventually found the hatch on the ceiling of his master bedroom. I didn’t know what I was expecting once I opened the hatch, but when I saw the light bulb turned on, I’ll admit, I freaked out a little bit. I didn’t hesitate to run downstairs to find the door to his basement and close it, making sure to lock it as well. I swear, if Matt is making me think he has something strange in the basement, or if this was all just an elaborate prank, I was buying it. I didn’t care, my heart can’t take this kind of stuff.

Like any sane person would do, I put blankets over all the mirrors I could find in his house before it turned dark. I wasn’t going to take any chances. It was still early, the sun was still up, but this was necessary for me. I was already afraid to use any of the bathrooms, even with the coverings on the mirrors. My curiosity scared me into imagining what I would see behind them.

The painting in the living room was turned upside down, as Matt had said. It was some baroque artwork with heavenly clouds with angels in them and mortals in greek togas on the ground, looking up at them. I grabbed the edges, good thing it wasn’t too big, and carefully heaved it clockwise, fitting it back in its spot.

By this point I was not in the mood to do anything. I was already scared of the place, and I decided I should spend the night cowering under some blankets in the corner of the living room or something. I’ll follow the candle rule at 9, the TV rule, check the painting every four hours, and ignore any odd thing that might happen in the night except for the possible scream outside and the lights flickering, in which I have to spring into action, I assume for my safety. God, I’m doing all this for money, how much of a fool am I, really.

Despite my frightful mood, the rest of the night actually went by fairly smoothly. The painting never turned upside down, and I thanked Jesus for that. Or else that would have really freaked me out and made me run out of the house. The TV did turn on a couple of times at max volume, like Max said, and I yelped like a little girl whenever it did. I’d always glance at the remote on the coffee table and would see nobody had touched it, which really freaked me out, but I’d always turn it back off and would try to stay calm. Luckily, God answered my prayers because the screen never turned blood red.

I never did hear a scream coming from outside. I get blood-curdling chills thinking about what I would do if I did. I’d probably be frozen in fear and not do all the things Matt had told me to do. The night was fairly warm in the house, and there was only one instance where I felt the room had gotten a little colder, but it wasn’t by much so I thought I was just imagining things. Thankfully, the lights never flickered so I didn’t have to deal with a panic attack at something tapping my shoulder behind me, if it really was going to happen.

I turned all the lights off between 9 to 11. This was the scariest part of the night for me. I kept reminding myself I’d be rich with cash if I got through this. I didn’t dare light any candles, I just used my phone whenever I needed light. To be honest, for most of the night I didn’t move at all from my corner in the living room with my blanket around me. I was just paralyzed with fear. I regretted doing this so many times throughout the night. I wondered if this was some sort of experiment, and that’s why the pay was so high, so people would do it, and Matt was some evil scientist or something. Maybe I should check what’s in his basement. Either way, I was going to get through the night fine, I kept telling myself. I never heard a knock on the door either, or anyone pretending to be Matt. After 11, I turned the lights back on. I didn’t just want them on. I needed them on. 

Out of all the things I was thankful didn’t happen, there was one thing that did that genuinely shook me to my core.

At around 4 am, the phone in the kitchen rang. I kept telling myself to not answer it, repeating words to drown out the noise. Call it morbid curiosity, I ended up checking it out. Fear gripped my body when the screen displayed one name: Matt. 

I went back to my corner to hide. I had to follow Matt’s rule. So I let the phone ring until it stopped. Then, the freakiest thing happened. 

After around two minutes, I received a text on my phone. Yes! Please! Let it be from a friend, or my mom, anything to remind me I’m not alone! That’s what ran through my mind as I opened it, only to see a horrifying picture from a random number with no caller ID.

It was a picture, of me, sitting in my corner of the living room. Of the exact, current moment. How did I know this? That’s the freakiest part. In the picture I was looking at my phone. I hadn’t touched my phone all night until now, right when I received the text. The picture was impossible. 

As soon as I got it, I frantically searched around the room for who could have taken it. Looking around the house, I was certain there was no one. The blinds of all the windows were closed, I had done that myself, so it couldn’t have been someone outside. I had no idea how it was taken and how it was sent to me. 

This would paralyze me with fear for the rest of the night. I was shaking in my blanket, in my corner, wondering if something or someone was out here to get me, wondering if I was going to die. I put my phone away, becoming afraid to look at it or touch it. Because of all my fear, I was exhausted, and without meaning to, I fell asleep.

I woke up to sunlight coming through the blinds. I was still alive. As far as I could tell, nothing happened in the night that was noteworthy. The painting was still the right orientation and the TV had not turned on. With the sun lighting up the house, I felt my fear slowly fade away. I guess that’s what the sun always does when you’re feeling horrified. 

Still, I was paralyzed to move. I only did when the door opened and I saw Matt enter the house.

“Emily? Is that you? Why are you in the corner there?”

Thank God! It was over! I felt like crying right there, or even hugging Matt in his confused state at the door, anything! I was practically rejoicing in relief.

I told Matt everything that had happened. I had followed all his rules. He chuckled the whole time I was explaining.

“What?” I asked, annoyed. “Tell me Matt, please! What was happening? What were all those stupid rules?”

“Calm down, you’ll get your money!” He laughed again.

“What is it? Tell me!”

“It was nothing! Really! Nothing bad was going to happen, you were completely safe. It was all just a prank, seriously. I even set up some things to make it look real, but not everything.”

“The upside down painting?”

“Yup.”

“The light in the attic?”

“Nothing’s in the basement, you can check. Just a normal basement.”

“What about the TV turning on?”

“Yeah, I got my friend to program that to happen. We thought it’d be another funny thing to add.”

“The phone call? From you?”

“Haha! That actually was me! But I knew you wouldn’t answer. Good job.”

“So all of this was just to… what? Freak me out?”

“Yeah!” He laughed again.

I punched him in the arm, hard. “You’re a jerk.”

“It was funny! Wasn’t it? And wasn’t it worth it? You’ll be getting $1500!”

When I looked back on it, in that moment, I supposed Matt was right. It was pretty funny, even if I was the receiving end of the prank. He then explained the job was actually real, and that he did sometimes get burglars, but very rarely. And the scary rules were just a way to make sure the kids he hired, like me, deserved the money.

I sighed with extreme relief at all this. It was funny, but not fun, I guess. I’d never do it again.

Suddenly, I remembered one last thing. The thing that gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night. The impossible picture. The text. I asked Matt about it.

“So how did you manage to do that text message at 4 am? How did you get a picture of me while you were out of town?”

Matt’s goofy smile faded.

“What text?” he asked, genuine confusion in his face. “I didn’t send any text.”

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