Chapter 16: Clue in the Coffin

 

It was a cold, cloudy morning when the first package arrived. The sky was gray, and the air felt heavy, like something bad was about to happen. Bonolo opened her mailbox and found a plain brown envelope. There was no name written on it, no stamp, no return address just a sealed flap and something heavy inside. It didn’t feel like junk mail. It felt important. Or dangerous. Her fingers shaked as she opened it. Inside was a folded paper. She unfolded it slowly, and as the corners opened, her breath caught in her throat. It was a funeral pamphlet. The kind used at memorials and burials. Her name was printed on the cover. She blinked, thinking it had to be some kind of mistake. But as she kept reading, she saw the other names too. Zinhle. Lulu. Kea. Amogelang. All five of them were listed together under the title: “In Loving Memory” Each girl had a fake birth date, and below it, the same fake death date  the day of the accident. The day they all agreed to never speak about again. Bonolo’s hands went cold. She dropped the paper onto her kitchen table and backed away, heart racing. She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

This wasn’t some silly prank. Someone had put thought and planning into this. Later that day, Kea got home from work and found an envelope waiting for her, slipped under her apartment door. She opened it and saw the same pamphlet. Same names. Same date. Same cold message. Zinhle’s arrived in her mailbox too. She stood on her porch staring at it for a long time before she even opened it. Once she did, she ran back inside and locked the door. Lulu’s came in the most unexpected way tucked between pages of a fashion magazine she had ordered online. She pulled it out, confused at first, then horrified. Amogelang’s was taped to her front gate, flapping in the wind. At first, she thought it was just junk paper someone had stuck there. But when she peeled it off and saw her name, she nearly screamed. By that evening, all five girls had received the same terrifying message. Each one stared at their own copy of the pamphlet. Each one felt the same dread wash over them. The group chat lit up with messages. “Bonolo, did you get one too?” “Kea, this isn’t funny anymore.” “Who would do something like this?” “This can’t be random. Someone’s watching us.” “Why now?” But no one could explain it. They had promised to keep the secret forever. But someone was trying to dig it up. The funeral pamphlet was more than paper. It was a message. Someone was reminding them that the past wasn’t dead.