No One Believed Me—Until It Was Too Late / Chapter 1: The Warning No One Heard
No One Believed Me—Until It Was Too Late

No One Believed Me—Until It Was Too Late

Author: Anna Miller

Chapter 1: The Warning No One Heard

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A massive snakeskin appeared in the hallway. I warned my neighbors in the apartment group chat to be careful.

The moment I spotted it, my stomach dropped. I snapped a photo—my hands shaking—and posted it in the resident group chat. The thing looked like it belonged in a zoo. Seriously. Not in a downtown high-rise. The fluorescent lights made the scales shimmer in a way that was just plain wrong.

"Keep your doors and windows locked. Snakes can swallow things way bigger than themselves. This one’s huge, and after it’s shed, it’ll be out hunting."

Honestly, I could almost hear the eye rolls through the phone. Someone replied with a laughing emoji, and another person sent a meme of a cartoon snake wearing sunglasses.

Nobody took me seriously. They all just laughed, calling me paranoid.

It stung a little, go figure. I mean, who jokes about a snake the size of a fire hose slithering around? But that’s city folks for you—if it’s not on their phone screen, it’s not real.

The building manager responded right away: "There are no snakes in this building. Some folks shouldn’t be spreading wild rumors."

He even added a little winky face at the end, like it was all some kind of joke. I could picture him in his office, feet up on the desk, scrolling through the chat with a smirk.

Hiss hiss.

Or maybe that was just my nerves. The sound echoed in my head, as if the hallway itself was mocking me. I swear, I felt the air turn colder just thinking about it.

Then what the hell is in the hallway right now?

I pressed my back against my apartment door, listening hard. Every tiny creak made my skin crawl. I kept replaying the image of that snakeskin, stretched out like a warning.

When the janitor came by on his morning rounds, he found the giant snakeskin in the hallway.

Word spread fast after that. I heard the clatter of his cleaning cart stop abruptly, followed by a string of muttered curses. Within minutes, the group chat lit up again—this time with blurry photos and lots of question marks.

At first, everyone thought it had to be a prank, that the skin was fake.

Somebody claimed it was just a prop from a movie set. Another person joked about an escape room promotion. The theories got wilder by the minute, but nobody wanted to admit the obvious.

How could a snake get into a luxury high-rise in downtown Chicago?

It was a fair question. We had keycard entry, security cameras, and a doorman who looked like he bench-pressed Buicks for fun. Still, I knew better than to underestimate nature.

But I grew up in the Appalachians with my grandpa, so I knew right away. I remembered the way he’d spit tobacco and warn me about copperheads. "If you see the skin, the snake’s not far behind." The memory made my heart pound. This wasn’t my first rodeo with something scaly and dangerous.

It was definitely a fresh shed. Which meant the snake was even bigger now.

I ran my thumb over the photo on my screen, tracing the ragged edges.

So I posted in the group again: "Seriously, keep your doors and windows locked. Snakes can swallow things much bigger than themselves. This one’s massive, and after it’s shed, it’ll be hungry."

My words hung there, ignored. I felt like I was shouting into a void.

All I got was more teasing. City people, right? If it’s not pigeons or rats, they just can’t believe it. If there really was one, someone would’ve seen it by now.

A couple of neighbors started posting GIFs of Samuel L. Jackson from that old snake movie. Someone else said, "Relax, Steve Irwin," and I almost laughed, even though my nerves were shot.

Mrs. Ramirez from 606 said, "908, quit trying to scare people! This isn’t the backwoods. Where would a snake even come from?"

She had a point. Still, what if someone kept it as a pet?

I started thinking about all the weird pets people had in this building—there was a guy on the 11th floor with a tarantula, and a woman on 3 who let her ferret run wild in the laundry room. A giant snake wasn’t that much of a stretch.

Plenty of people keep snakes these days. It’s not that weird anymore.

I remembered seeing a TikTok about a guy with a python in his studio apartment. The city was full of surprises, and not all of them good.

I added in the chat, "Maybe someone’s keeping it as a pet. Just be careful, everyone."

My message got buried under a flood of snake emojis and jokes about turning the place into a petting zoo.

The chat turned into a circus. Someone even changed their profile picture to a cartoon cobra. I set my phone face-down, trying to tune it all out.

Only the guy from 707 seemed concerned: "If someone had a snake that big, maybe the owner’s already been eaten, huh?"

For a second, nobody replied. Heavy silence. I swear, we were all picturing the same thing.

After that, the chat went dead silent.

It was the first time all day I felt like maybe I wasn’t crazy. Or maybe we all were.

The manager tried to reassure everyone, telling us not to worry.

He posted some official-sounding nonsense about building safety and pest control. I pictured him sweating, trying to keep the peace.

He even said, with a little sarcasm, "There are no snakes in this building. Some people shouldn’t spread rumors."

He doubled down, this time with a thumbs-up emoji. I could practically hear the forced cheer in his words.

Just then, my DoorDash order arrived. The smell of fried chicken drifted through the door, making my stomach growl. For a second, I was almost comforted by the familiar routine of city takeout—delivery drivers, food at the door, a little taste of normalcy.

I checked the app—he was marked as arrived, and I could smell the fried chicken through the door.

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