한
한글타자왕
현재 타수0타
정확도100%
진행 시간0초
Challenge Transcription

2:17

·

Chapter One

"Yo, what's up? How've you been lately?"
The message appeared on Noah's phone at exactly 2:17 a.m.
He frowned.
There was no name attached to it. No phone number. Just a blank contact icon and those six words, as if someone had whispered them directly into his mind.
He should have ignored it.
Instead, he typed back.
"Who is this?"
Three little dots appeared instantly.
"I think you're the only one who can still see me."
Noah sat upright in bed.
Outside his bedroom window, rain tapped softly against the glass. His digital clock blinked 2:18.
He checked every messaging app he had. Nothing. The conversation wasn't in Messages, WhatsApp, Discord, or anything else.
Yet the chat was still open.
His phone suddenly vibrated again.
"Look outside."
He hesitated for a full minute before pulling back the curtain.
The street was empty.
Almost.
A single streetlight flickered at the corner.
Beneath it stood someone wearing a dark hoodie.
The figure wasn't looking at the road.
It was looking directly at Noah's window.
His heart skipped a beat.
Twelve floors up.
There was no possible way anyone on the street could see him.
The figure slowly raised one hand.
And waved.
Noah stumbled backward.
When he looked again, the streetlight stood alone.
No person.
Nothing.
His phone buzzed once more.
"See? You noticed me."
He swallowed hard.
"Who are you?"
This time the reply took longer.
Much longer.
Nearly a minute.
"That's the problem."
"I don't remember."
By morning, Noah had almost convinced himself it had all been a dream.
Until he opened his camera roll.
There was a new photo.
He hadn't taken it.
The picture showed his apartment building from across the street.
One window was glowing.
His bedroom window.
Someone had circled it with a red marker.
Underneath, in shaky handwriting, were four words.
DON'T OPEN THE DOOR.
Noah stared at the image, frozen.
His apartment doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
A cheerful voice echoed through the intercom.
"Delivery for Noah!"
He hadn't ordered anything.
Then his phone lit up one last time.
"Whatever you do..."
"Don't answer."
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2:17 - 유저 참여형 타자 필사 연습

지금 보고 계신 페이지는 한글타자왕의 유저 참여형 서비스인 필사 챌린지 공간입니다. 이 글은 익명 님이 직접 창작하거나 공유해주신 소중한 작품 '2:17' 입니다. 다른 유저분들이 남긴 감성적이고 깊이 있는 문장들을 직접 원고지에 타이핑(필사)해보며, 타자 속도 증진뿐만 아니라 힐링과 사색의 시간을 가져보세요.

2:17 전문

Chapter One "Yo, what's up? How've you been lately?" The message appeared on Noah's phone at exactly 2:17 a.m. He frowned. There was no name attached to it. No phone number. Just a blank contact icon and those six words, as if someone had whispered them directly into his mind. He should have ignored it. Instead, he typed back. "Who is this?" Three little dots appeared instantly. "I think you're the only one who can still see me." Noah sat upright in bed. Outside his bedroom window, rain tapped softly against the glass. His digital clock blinked 2:18. He checked every messaging app he had. Nothing. The conversation wasn't in Messages, WhatsApp, Discord, or anything else. Yet the chat was still open. His phone suddenly vibrated again. "Look outside." He hesitated for a full minute before pulling back the curtain. The street was empty. Almost. A single streetlight flickered at the corner. Beneath it stood someone wearing a dark hoodie. The figure wasn't looking at the road. It was looking directly at Noah's window. His heart skipped a beat. Twelve floors up. There was no possible way anyone on the street could see him. The figure slowly raised one hand. And waved. Noah stumbled backward. When he looked again, the streetlight stood alone. No person. Nothing. His phone buzzed once more. "See? You noticed me." He swallowed hard. "Who are you?" This time the reply took longer. Much longer. Nearly a minute. "That's the problem." "I don't remember." By morning, Noah had almost convinced himself it had all been a dream. Until he opened his camera roll. There was a new photo. He hadn't taken it. The picture showed his apartment building from across the street. One window was glowing. His bedroom window. Someone had circled it with a red marker. Underneath, in shaky handwriting, were four words. DON'T OPEN THE DOOR. Noah stared at the image, frozen. His apartment doorbell rang. Once. Twice. Three times. A cheerful voice echoed through the intercom. "Delivery for Noah!" He hadn't ordered anything. Then his phone lit up one last time. "Whatever you do..." "Don't answer."