Sample

At the bottom, deep down in the dark, there's no screaming left. Just the quiet to keep company, and the incessant, painful ritual of clawing at a hope you can't reach. But you continue anyway,  in hope's absence, because it's the only thing keeping the phantoms at bay.

I'll never forget the way the taste of ash stuck to my tongue like a thick weight. Or the way the relentless flames lapped up countless lives with an almost offensively casual hunger. Shadows devoured those who remained as bodies tumbled from rooftops. But, I think, it is the screams that haunt me the most. And though I'm ashamed to admit it, I was grateful when they finally ended. Something in me cracked when those cries for help shifted, devolving from pitiful pleas for help into just…screams.

A horrible thing it is, listening to the wails of the dying. It's almost as bad as the silence.

You know what I'm talking about, don't you? That horrible quiet, the pause when one has given up and accepted their fate. That grim awareness that comes with knowing that, even if rescue or a boon did come, it would no longer matter. 

A bittersweet gift of maturity, accepting hopelessness, accepting death.

If you're ever unlucky enough to witness what I did, if you ever meet them, just shut your eyes. Don't misunderstand; it won't save you—nothing will. Sorry if that sounds a bit grim, but I've run out of hope to give and grown far too old to believe in miracles.

There's no use in hiding. They'll find you.

If you run, they'll catch you.

But if you close your eyes really tight, you might, might, hold on to some sliver of sanity before you go.

Funny, isn't it?

Here I am, worrying about your sanity when mine was lost long ago.

You're lucky. Or maybe not, considering how much you still have left to lose. I envy you, and sort of hate you, for not having to see what I've seen.                                                                 

But that's not fair. It isn't your fault. You've not seen the end of things. 

So I'm sorry for the hostility. I just hate that I took so many things for granted—sanity, most of all.

I think I noticed it slipping after something as simple as a blink, a careless flutter, and in that moment of my last blissful ignorance, the horrors from beyond came pouring through.

I was sitting opposite my father, or was it Dad? He had a name, didn't he?

Forgive me. Time acts funny here. Fucks with your head and has you saying all sorts of shit.

Pardon my Spanish.

Dad was, in his usual way, regaling Sara with one of his infamous dad jokes.

Still doesn't sound quite right, does it? It was definitely Father.

Fatherly jokes. 

Much better.

He was busy telling one of his fatherly jokes to Sara when—what? You want to know who Sara was?

Just a friend.

Or the friend, I guess. You know the one.

The "it's complicated," one.

It's so odd, speaking of her in past tense as though she were dead. Though by Earth's standards, I guess she might be.

Earth?

Look, if we're going to make it through this, I'm going to need you to stop asking so many questions. Do you want a story or exposition? I promise none of it will make sense by the end anyway. 

But to your inquiry, no, this isn't Earth. Not now, at least. We, or rather I, started there but ended up in the other place, in the hollow, where the Dark things are. The ones I mentioned earlier. The ones creeping in the corner of your eye. The silent, lumbering something that flickers momentarily when you blink.

You still don't know what I'm talking about?

You will.

A bit of homework for you: by the time we reach the end of all this, I want you to tell me, honestly, if you think any or all of this was my fault.

But how could it be? I was simply eating dinner, celebrating my end-of-school graduation, hopefully for the last time, while my family laughed, carefully measuring their appetites against the restaurant's dainty portions.

And then, in an instant, they stopped. Everything froze in place, even the incessant cawing of an annoying bird perched by the window. A strange, electric tingle pulsed at the corner of my eye. I wanted to rub it, but I hesitated to touch it.

I looked up, and everything returned to normal, and the world began to move again. The server in front of me said something, but—

tap

It came from the window. A scratching sound followed, rough and deliberate, like claws or nails dragging across smooth glass.

Someone stood near the pane of glass, watching me. Or better yet, a thing stood near the window.

I tried to ignore it, but the figure remained just within my peripheral vision, shifting ever so slightly each time I looked. Eventually, it took on the shape of a gaunt, dead thing with claws in place of nails. It stared at me with a haggard, featureless face. Its withered frame lingered at a distance, as if taunting me to look directly at it as claws traced circles into the glass.

That was the first time I saw her, though unfortunately, it would be far from the last.

"Ryo?" Sara asked, noticing I was staring past her.

By the way, my name is Ryo. Yes, I know, I've been told. It's an odd name for a guy with my darker complexion.

Mom's from overseas. Father's military. Hope that clears it up.

Her soft hand touched mine, grounding me back to reality. I forced a smile, though panic twisted inside me. Beyond her shoulder, through the tall windows, the creature was gone.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked again, placing her hand more firmly over mine.

Her eyes found mine—sharp, concerned. Beads of sweat dotted my forehead. "What's wrong?"

There was no point in lying. She never missed anything with those inquisitive eyes. Not to mention, I pulled away far too quickly. 

"I-I—"

The scraping came again at the window. But this time, it was only a tree branch brushing the glass.

"I just...I need to pee," I stammered.

Sara frowned. "A bit more information than I needed. Go?"

As my siblings giggled at something the server said, I slipped away from the table, scratching my arm with unease. Sara watched me go, concern lingering in her expression.

When I reached the bathroom door, a strange sensation stopped me. Something like static crawling across my skin. I turned to glance over my shoulder.

Once full of noise, the restaurant had fallen eerily silent, still moving this time, but without a sound.

No, this wasn't one of those horror scenarios where everyone mysteriously vanishes just before the lurker appears. The place was still populated, but it was like the entire room had decided to avoid me. I watched as servers and patrons approached my area, paused, blinked, and then turned in the opposite direction.

Now, that might have seemed natural if I hadn't been standing in front of the only bathroom in the establishment. And when you need to go, well, you go.

I figured it was one of two things: either a sudden surge of urinary self-control had overtaken the patrons, or there was something very wrong nearby, likely loitering within the bathroom.

I wasn't an exorcist, nor was I part of a gang of mystery-solving adolescents.

Whatever was lurking inside could stay inside.

But my hand wouldn't let go of the handle. It stuck there, glued to that repulsive, bacteria-ridden metal rectangle that any sensible person would avoid.

You don't know what I'm talking about? Ew, you're one of those types.

I yanked. I pulled. Even bracing my foot against the wall didn't help.

And people were watching me.

Strangers walked past, glanced at me, and kept walking—eyes lingering as though I were the weird one, and that they did not magically forget their need to pee. For a moment, I considered whether this was a prank. Maybe someone had smeared superglue on the handle. 

But no. I knew better than to believe anything that led up to this moment had been innocent.

tap tap

I whipped my head toward the door as it creaked open with terrible slowness, all while I struggled, kicked, and pleaded for release. I tried to scream, but the words came out garbled and broken. After a horrid few moments, the gap widened just an inch. Just wide enough so that the lidless, decrepit eye hovering there could stare right back into mine.

I gasped and yanked the door shut, but it caught on something, an old, gnarled hand wedged near the base. Rotten and twisted. With a cry, I tore myself free and bolted back to my family's table, half expecting whatever was in the bathroom to follow.

But, thankfully, it didn't.

"Need to stop watching scary movies," I muttered, sliding into my seat.

"Ugh, finally. I've been telling you that for years," Sara replied. "I've got the perfect K-drama to introduce you to."

I looked up, readying some snappy comment related to her god-awful taste in television, but instead of my dear friend's face, I was met with the hollow, decaying leer of a ghoul.

A wave of terror washed over me, causing me to fall backward, chair and all.

"What's wrong?" my father asked.

I looked again. The ghoul was gone. Sara was back to normal.

An awkward silence fell. I forced a smile and climbed back into my seat as my siblings burst into laughter.

"Ry, you fell on your as—!" Ashley began, giggling uncontrollably.

"Language!" my mother snapped.

Sara leaned closer, mouthing, Are you okay?

I didn't know how to answer. My head was spinning, so I turned to the window, hoping a little fresh air and nature might settle my nerves.

Didn't work, mainly because nature was on fire.

Trees burned. People screamed and scattered through the flames. One man, engulfed and howling, slammed against the restaurant's window, pounding his scorched, smoldering fists against the glass.

Yet inside, no one seemed to notice.

I scanned the room. None of my family, the diners, or the servers reacted. They smiled, chewed their meager portions, and sipped their expensive wines, while the Earth burned outside.

I shut my eyes and took a long breath.

Too much. I'd seen too much. It couldn't be real.

If I stood up and yelled now, they wouldn't thank me. They'd likely sedate me.

When I opened my eyes again, everything was normal. That annoying bird chirped outside. Tourists milled about the plaza. Car horns blared with their usual impatience.

I blinked.

The bird dropped from the sky in flames. The horns were gone, replaced by screams as fire devoured the street.

My father chuckled in the background.

I blinked again. Peace returned.

Again, the fire surged back.

Panicking, I slammed my eyes shut and threw a hand over the left one.

The street outside became vibrant with life, loud but normal. Children laughed, angry horns sounded—life moved on.

Driven by dread and curiosity, I switched eyes.

Fire. Screams. A nightmare realm. The sky burned with a malignant sun. Buildings collapsed in molten ruin. Stranger still, I could feel the heat in that eye, like it was touching another world.

"What's going on?" my mother asked.

I turned to her, still covering one eye.

The sight of her speaking casually through a half-melted, drooping face would never leave me.

I switched again. Everything returned to normal.

I kept the eye with the hellish scene covered.

"What’s wrong with you?” my older brother Troy asked. Dad got to name the first, Mom the second.

“Allergies.”

Sara, always prepared, handed me a napkin while Ashley cackled.

“Must blow to be you! Get it?”

As I adjusted to my new, one-eyed reality, a whisper broke the stillness, soft at first, then rising to a shriek. The madness was spreading, bleeding from one eye into the other. I threw both hands over my face as the divide continued collapsing. My last coherent memory was the spiderweb of cracks in the glass and the building groaning before the explosion that shattered the world.

 

I came to in the parking lot, head pounding and sticky with blood. Smoke and heat licked at the air. The restaurant was gone. Not vanished, but reduced to a smoldering ruin. Bodies were heaped inside the blaze, a grim mimicry of the rotisserie housing the chickens we’d passed on the way in.

A wasteland of ruin and fire lay before me.

Bodies lay strewn across the wreckage. Some dead. Some worse, wandering with grievous wounds. A leg torn from a hobbling man, a stunned woman trying to wipe her tears without hands, both barely clinging to life as others, like them, climbed out from the rubble.

There was no sign of my family, but given that just about every person I passed was either on fire or stricken with madness, that might have been a blessing. At the very least, they weren’t among the fire of sizzling flesh and mangled bone behind me. 

I struggled to breathe. Each breath felt like thorns scraping down my throat. I reached out to steady myself and froze, spotting something in the distance.

It hobbled low at first, breaching the dusty fog with its snout, tracing the ground—a dog-like creature trotting toward me like a wolf.

But its nose was much larger than the normal, domesticated pets I was used to, and it had small, devilish eyes.

No creature on Earth looked like that. Its body was bloated and sinewed, parts exposed like something flayed alive and left to fester. I remained unmoving, as more like it tore into survivors nearby.

I should have fled, but I couldn’t.

tap tap

Of everything—the beasts, the fire, the bodies—it was that sound that drove me mad. That low, deliberate tapping that burrowed into my skull.

Then I saw it.

The figure, no, the thing, shrouded in rags and grim aura. A presence, not a creature. Cloaked in the scent of death, its very gaze turned reality to cinders. No word could describe it, as it did not belong to our world of words.

The hellhounds were hauling their captured victims, gathering them at the entity’s feet. And in the grasp of one of them, was the only person I would have braved this hell for. 

Sara.

A horrible mix of shame and fury flooded through me. Though every bit of me wanted to rush forward and free her, I have to admit that I hesitated.

My mind screamed in protest, but my legs finally began to move.

I grabbed a fallen branch and launched myself at the hound, stabbing the sharp end of the branch through its beady red eye.

It recoiled with a loud, angry bark and dropped Sara from its mouth.

I caught her in my arms, limp and unresponsive—but alive. Her chest rose, barely, and I clutched her to me as tightly as I could as the world began collapsing around us.

And then the entity looked down, right at me.

The ground exploded beneath our feet, hurling us into the remains of a little bakery I used to frequent. Only two soot-stained silhouettes remained—the little old owners, reduced to ashen memories on scorched walls.

There were a few huddled survivors hiding in a basin nearby, motioning for me to come, so I dragged Sara’s body toward them as best I could.

Then came the scream.

A high tone that pierced the sky like an air raid siren.

And the hounds were upon us.

The few who had tried to help were the first to die, their throats torn open as I ducked beneath the spray of blood and gore, sliding down the now slick pavement toward what I hoped was an exposed sewage entrance. I forced myself to ignore the screams coming from those who had extended aid, clamping my eyes shut in a desperate attempt to drown out their agony. Using the last of my strength, I shoved Sara through the broken cement and crawled in after. Behind us, the beasts descended on the others—ripping, howling, and tearing. Their blood splashed across the side of my face as I pushed deeper into the gloomy tunnel.

The cavern was dark and smelled foul, not sewer foul, but the stench that comes with age, and a bit of sulfur. Then again, I hadn’t played in the sewers since I was a kid; they could have easily smelled like this, though I doubted it.

I placed Sara on my back and began trudging through the thick, clogged filth. Behind us, I could hear the things giving chase, splashing through the muck, their teeth on my heels, their claws raking through my skin.

I screamed as I pushed forward, kicking at the beasts while inching desperately ahead, biting down against the pain as tears streamed down my grimy, blood and mud-caked face. Their claws knocked me off balance, forcing me into a desperate crawl through the shallow but dense waters as the nightmares closed in.

I tried to block out the sickening squelch of blood and torn flesh beneath me, but my limbs were growing weak. My strength was fading.

They stopped with a start, sparks of light and electricity blended with the grime—and we fell.

 

We fell upward, opposite gravity for what felt like an eternity, drifting somewhere between waking and nightmare. The darkness wrapped around me like a cloak, and my mind frayed at the edges. Reality unraveled as pain blurred into terror, and everything became one long, shapeless scream.

The sounds of the scorched Earth we’d left behind drifted until silent, and eventually, after an endless plunge through shadow, the suffocating Dark gave way to new light.