November 10, 1946

Rainy weather, and sunlight glow, didn't match with the threads of destiny weaving that were about to happen due to a fatal experiment that was later a stain on the soul. Stain on the Earth in this case.

 Elizabeth Jacobs, a seasoned researcher, led her team in a race to combat the global virus, Morbus Mortalis. Her and her team desperately tried to invent the cure to that virus, but their attempts never worked out. While initially focused on the cure, they discovered a potential breakthrough; a tear in the fabric of reality.

 Driven by ambition, Dr. Jacobs sought to widen this breach, and after relentless effort, her team devised a method to manipulate the anomaly. The entrance grew open more and more like a wound, soon, it was so big that a person could fit through.

 Dr. Elizabeth Jacobs stood nervously in the spacious office of Dr. Fernsby, the headmaster of the Quantum Research Institute. The walls were lined with books on advanced physics, and a holographic projector cast complex equations into the air. 

 Dr. Fernsby, a stern figure with graying hair and piercing blue eyes, scrutinized the data on the screen before him. The room hummed with cutting-edge technology, a stark contrast to the grim news they were about to discuss.

 "Are you certain about this, Elizabeth?" Dr. Fernsby asked, not lifting his eyes from the display. Despite his high position, he already called Dr. Jacobs by her first name.

"Absolutely," Elizabeth replied, her voice steady regardless of the weight of her words. "We've successfully managed to expand the entrance to the parallel world we've recently found—I mean, it expanded itself. Researchers explored some parts of it and it mirrors ours in almost every way—the world even has the buildings from the current year. It's the same. Except it has a peculiar atmosphere and no detectable signs of life from what we know so far. And it's covered in snow." 

Dr. Fernsby finally looked up, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "And you believe this... other world could help us with the current crisis?" 

Elizabeth nodded, taking a deep breath. "It's risky, but our options are limited. Perhaps we could see if this other world could neutralize the virus from the dead corpses. Just an experiment."

She paused for a moment, glancing at the screen filled with data from their previous explorations of the parallel world.

"You've seen the readings, Dr. Fernsby," she continued, her voice taking on a more confident tone. "The atmosphere over there is... different. There's no sign of organic life—nothing decays, nothing changes. The environment seems to preserve everything perfectly, as though time doesn't affect living tissue the way it does here."

Dr. Fernsby tilted his head, his brow furrowing. "Are you suggesting that this world's atmosphere could contain the virus indefinitely? Keep it dormant?"

Elizabeth nodded again. "Exactly. The virus thrives on decay, on biological breakdown. But if we expose the infected bodies to an environment where decay can't occur—where the virus can't find hosts—it could neutralize itself. At least, that's the theory."

Fernsby leaned back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on the screen as if trying to predict the outcome. "A strange theory, but we're running out of time and options. If there's even a chance that this world can halt the virus's spread, it might be worth the risk."

They came up with the solution of leaving the bodies that couldn't bear the virus at the mercy of the parallel world, instead of burying them. People protested, wanting to keep their loved ones in the graveyard, though the authorities couldn't care less. They needed to see how the infected bodies would react. They wanted to see if the eerie atmosphere of the other world could neutralize the virus. But that was just a cover. In fact, they needed to test how the infected human organism would actually react for further exploration.

That night, under the cover of darkness, a convoy of trucks arrived at the entrance to the parallel world—it grew even bigger.

Scientists in hazmat suits moved with grim efficiency, unloading the deceased and transporting them through the entrance whose appearance mirrored a large bloody wound. The eerie silence of the other world swallowed them, the bodies disappearing into its surreal landscape.

"Let's finish up here and head back," Elizabeth instructed her team, exhaustion and relief mingling as they completed their grim task. "Dr. Caddel. Don't lift your eyes from the screen for a moment. Make sure to know what's happening," she ordered, turning to the scientist that was chosen to watch the corpses intently.

In the observation room, Dr Caddel, was peering through a monitor. Though after several hours he fell asleep.

Meanwhile, a slight movement near the body showed on the screen, yet Dr. Caddel didn't see that at first. It was a slight worm. Just a slight worm but this tiny creature had the unexplainable power to wound the fabric of reality.

The worm crawled to the inside of one of the infected bodies, stretching around the organs. The worm was enveloped in a strange thick matter, and passed this envelope on the body. The worm gave life to a dead body and a word monster formed. More worms took ahold of the bodies at a horrific speed and strange monsters formed. They were tall, with long limbs, appearing lifeless. 

And they were emerging towards the entrance to the real world.

Dr. Caddel, who awoke at the loud sound of defeating footsteps, adjusted his focus, his heart skipping a beat as he noticed the monsters.

"Something's wrong," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of machinery. He hit the alarm button with a trembling hand. Red lights flashed and sirens blared throughout the laboratory.

Panic erupted as scientists and staff scrambled to comprehend the threat.

"Evacuate! Evacuate now!" Fernsby's voice boomed over the intercom, urgent and commanding. Elizabeth and her colleagues raced through the corridors, the demonic creatures hot on their heels.

Screams echoed as the monsters tore through the staff, leaving carnage in their wake. Only a handful of scientists managed to escape, sealing the laboratory's entrance behind them. The creatures, thwarted by the barrier, roared in frustration but soon turned their fury on each other. 

Gunfire shattered windows, drawing the creatures back to their own place. The laboratory was swiftly shut down, its horrors hidden from the world. A shadowed realm, mirroring our own, stirred with unseen life, waiting for the curious and the desperate to unveil its secrets.

After Frensby had passed during these tragic events, Elizabeth learned that he bequeathed his belongings, including the laboratory, to her, who inherited everything from his money to his lab remnants. She never used it, not even the money. It felt awful to use someone's money. Money of someone who died because of an experiment she began. She regretted her choices every day, every night, perhaps, every sleeping moment.

She was scared to proceed with this experiment, though curious about what the other world hid, because it never disappeared. More entrances near the site where it all began were created by the creatures—that's what they were later named as, taking lives away from innocent people.

Elizabeth's daughters were too young at that time the incident occured, though after eleven years, when one of them proved that she deserved the money—while the other one ran away, she passed the inheritance to her first-born daughter, who later used the lab space to secretly continue the experiment.

Elizabeth's first-born daughter continued this forgotten experiment, claiming that it's for the best. What a liar she was.

—

September 11, 1957

Eleven years later, the site of the abandoned laboratory had been replaced. The government wanted to repurpose the land after the tragedy, as a way to cover up what happened back in 1946.

 In twilight's embrace, where the shadows glow, now eleven years later stands an orphanage, whose past hasn't yet unfold. 

Children played in the sunlit yard, unaware of the dark history beneath their feet. Mrs. Agnes, the headmistress, watched the children with a smile, the past seemingly buried. But some shadows never fade completely.