One night in the military camp, I lay on my narrow bunk, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, the energy felt different—like a chill up my spine. I brushed it off as tiredness. But then my socks vanished, not just from my footlocker, but from my feet.

We'd wake up to find our stuff moved. At first, it seemed silly. A toothbrush here, a boot there. We'd laugh it off. But soon, everyone was whispering about it. Things started reappearing in impossible places, like Tim's watch inside a locked bag.

We tried to catch whoever was messing with us. But even wide awake, nobody spotted anyone. One night on watch, my flashlight disappeared—then showed up under my pillow.

Someone joked it was a ghost soldier pulling pranks. Half of us laughed, half went quiet. It got weirder when John's missing letter appeared in his cap days later.

That night, we all pretended to sleep but listened for anything strange. The air felt thick with fear or just the unknown. We never saw a ghost or caught anyone sneaking. But things kept going missing, only to turn up in bizarre places.

One night after lights out, we were trying to sleep. The barracks were quiet except for snoring. Suddenly, my buddy Tom sat up.

"Did you hear that?"

he whispered.

I heard it too—soft footsteps in the hallway. They were light, almost like they were trying not to be heard.

Tom said, I bet it's Sarge, checking on us again.

We waited for the door to open or a flashlight beam. But nothing came. The footsteps sped up, then faded away.

We didn't talk about it right away. At breakfast, Tom finally said, That wasn't Sarge, you know.

He was right. When we asked Sarge later, he just gave us a look that said we were crazy.

We couldn't shake the feeling something else was there with us, something we couldn't explain but couldn't ignore.

We started pretending to sleep, waiting for strange things to happen. One night, my friend Danny suddenly froze. Then, a soft voice broke through the silence.

"Don't worry, you can continue to pretend sleep."

It was a little girl's voice, quiet but chilling. Danny and I looked at each other, eyes wide.

At first, I thought it was a prank. But everyone else was asleep. The voice had no source. It was just there, like it knew our secrets.

The barracks went silent. We waited for another whisper or some explanation. But nothing came.

Danny didn't mention it the next day, and neither did I. But that whisper stayed in my head, echoing every night.

We kept pretending we weren't scared, that we weren't listening for those footsteps or that voice. But deep down, we wondered if something real was blending into our restless minds.

We were on an island far from the mainland. It was a military post with no families or visitors allowed. That's why the little girl's voice was so strange—there shouldn't have been any kids around.

Danny and I tried to explain it away, but we couldn't. The island felt different after that. Nights seemed longer, and shadows stretched more than usual.

We started looking for answers quietly, not wanting others to think we were crazy. But we couldn't forget what we heard.

Two weeks later, we heard faint giggles in the wind. It was like the island was reminding us that we didn't know everything.

Most of us pretended we hadn't heard it again. But Danny and I knew differently. We might have been alone on this island, but something else was there too.

We don't talk about it much now. It's just an unspoken truth among us. Sometimes, in the dead of night, things happen that we can't explain.

Coming back from leave, I felt something was off in the barracks. Danny noticed first. On his bed was a small bundle—a clump of hair tied up, with a note.

"Remember me?"

it read in messy writing.

We were shocked. It felt impossible, yet personal. Theories flew: a prank, or a message from whatever haunted our nights. The hair and note shouldn't have been there.

Danny, usually calm, looked shaken. We decided not to report it right away. We needed to know more, or maybe we were scared of what might happen if we told.

That night, we whispered about ghosts and waited for another sign. I decided to stay awake, listening for anything that could explain the mystery of Remember me?

After the hair and note incident, things changed. We all felt tense but didn't talk about it. Maybe we were trying to convince ourselves it was just a joke, or maybe we were scared to admit something weird was happening.

Danny avoided eye contact for days. Our friendly chats felt hollow. Everyone seemed jumpy, glancing at their bunks or flinching at small noises.

We never found out if it was a prank or something else. But in a strange way, it brought us closer. We shared a secret, a connection we all understood without words.

Years later, we might meet up and talk about our time on the island. Someone might say, Remember that island? We'd all share a look, knowing some stories are best left untold.