"Where am I?" Stage's trembling voice splintered into the darkness, shattering the stillness like fragile glass. The silence that followed was oppressive, a haunting cry that seemed to reverberate back to him. "What's happening? "I feel... hollow."
He swept his head from side to side, probing the void for any sign of life or landmark, searching for a glimpse of anything – a shape, a contour, a flicker of light but darkness swallowed everything. No glimmer of light, no shadowy silhouette. Even his own hands remained invisible, lost in the inky blackness.
A chilling aura settled over Stage, terror's spectral presence enveloped him, casting a shroud of dread that dripped icy sweat from his palms. His heart revved like an engine, accelerating into a frenzied rhythm.
Terror's frosty caress crept over him, its gentle touch mocking his vulnerability with each ticking second. Time itself became the instrument of terror, as each beat weaves a chilling shroud that enveloped him, teasing his sanity.
"Is anyone there?!" The words ripped from his throat, a plea to shatter the suffocating stillness, Yet, the silence that followed was more oppressive, a weight that crushed his chest cause the only response was the frantic pounding of his own heart.
"What is wrong with me, and why am I shaking like a scared little girl in the dark? Why do my limbs tremble like autumn leaves in a hurricane?" Stage's whispered self-rebuke was laced with desperation, a bid to reclaim his shattered resolve.
Inhaling courage, exhaling doubt, Stage moved forward, With cautious steps, he ventured into the void, his hands and feet probing the unknown like tentative antennae. His hands and feet formed a protective aura, shielding him from the unseen.
Stage pressed on, driven by a fierce resolve to escape the suffocating darkness that had swallowed him whole.
"Where am I?" Stage stood still, lost in nowhere. "this isn't a building, there are no door leads or walls." His thoughts taunt him, 'Remember, remember... "but how did I get here?"
A muffled cry tore from Stage's throat: – "Ahhh..." – which barely broke the silence. His hands cradled his legs, a desperate bid to soothe the burning. "Dehm, how long have I been walking?" The question echoed through his mind, lost in the labyrinth of his suffering.
Terror's icy fingers wrapped around Stage, squeezing tight as the horrifying truth dawned on him: his invincibility was shattered. "How is this possible?!" His voice cracked a tremulous whisper. "My powers... they are gone!" The emptiness within him echoed, a haunting scream.
The emptiness now made sense - his powers were gone. Stage, once a force to be reckoned with, was now just a vulnerable, trembling soul. As he struggled to comprehend this seismic shift, an eerie melody pierced the stillness - a slow, deliberate striking that echoed through the darkness sending shivers down his spine.
Stage's feet rooted to the ground, his heart stuck in his throat. "Who's... there?" The whisper escaped, barely audible, his voice trembling with each syllable as if the shadows themselves were closing in.
As each second ticked by, the cracking sound escalated, shards of sound piercing the silence, as footsteps - cold, calculated, and deliberate - emerged from the darkness, amplifying Stage's fear.
Alongside the intensified creaking, footsteps closed in, and a primal scream tore through the darkness, unleashing a maelstrom of fear within Stage. He bolted, legs pumping, into the unknown, desperate to escape the horror bearing down on him.
Terror hijacked Stage's senses, rendering his legs' protests mute and the darkness irrelevant. As his body became a mere projectile, launched into the void with a singular purpose: survival.
With every last shred of energy, Stage sprinted forward, footsteps fading into the darkness like lost whispers. Still, he ran, driven by primal fear, until his body slammed into something, that felt like a brick wall, leaving him crumpled and gasping on the floor.
"Ahhhh! Shit!!" Stage's tortured scream shattered the darkness, as his body arched in agony on the icy floor. Agony's fiery grip held him tight, but as suddenly as it had begun, his suffering subsided, eclipsed by the crushing weight of an unseen force settling upon him.
The figure's crushing grip and muscular physique left no doubt - Stage was pinned beneath a behemoth of a man, his massive frame radiating power and dominance. A formidable presence that paralyzed him with fear.
"Let me in!" The figure's urgent whisper sliced through the darkness, echoing through Stage's mind, growing louder, more insistent until Stage felt the full weight of its presence bearing down upon him.
Paralysis claimed Stage, its grip as unyielding as steel. His body lay motionless, a prisoner of the cold floor, his voice trapped in his throat, while the figure's eyes loomed, petrifying him into a living statue of fear, as his mind screamed silently for escape.
The inky darkness concealed the figure's features, but its eyes blazed with an eerie calmness. Calm and unblinking, their milky whites and ruby hues framed a dark, scorpion-shaped core, leaving him terrified.
The eyes drew nearer, their piercing gaze bridging the distance between them, until Stage felt the gentle press of the figure's forehead against his own. Warm, ragged breaths caressed his skin, sending shivers down his spine.
The figure's weight bore down on Stage, its eyes closing like lanterns extinguished in the night. The brief silence was a held breath, a moment's reprieve before Stage's arms were seized in an unyielding grasp.
A low, ominous hum began to vibrate through the figure's body, like the purr of a predator sensing prey. Stage's skin crawled as the figure's warm breath danced across his face, carrying the acrid tang of smoke and burning embers.
When the figure's eyes snapped open, Stage was met with a maelstrom of fury, the calm facade shattered like fragile glass, revealing a tempest of rage that seared his very soul.
The figure's voice shattered the air, a jagged scream that ripped through the silence: 'Why won't you let me in?!' Its rage-fueled cry echoed a primal howl that shook Stage to his core.
The figure's gaze retreated, its eyes receding like a dark tide, leaving him gasping for air. Though the scorching breath no longer danced across his skin, the crushing weight of its body remained, pinning him down like a trapped animal, its grip on his arms unyielding.
Time itself seemed to slow as the figure's grip intensified, its crushing force escalating with each heartbeat. Stage's attempts to writhe free were futile, his body locked in a prison of pain, his screams silenced by the weight of his helplessness.
In a final, desperate bid for entry, the figure's voice shattered the air: 'LET ME IN!' Its words dissolved into a bestial roar as it slammed its forehead into Stage's, the impact a sickening crunch that sent shockwaves through Stage's skull.
Time suspended as Stage felt like his face imploded from the collision, shattering into a kaleidoscope of anguish, each fragment piercing his soul like a razor-sharp splinter. His scream was a symphony of suffering, echoing through the void.
Just as the figure's forehead hovered, poised for another crushing blow, Stage's raw scream shattered the darkness, catapulting him into consciousness. Gasping, drenched in sweat, his pulse racing like a jackhammer in his chest.
Stage's eyes scanned the room, his mind foggy and his heart still racing. Slowly, reality reasserted its grip, and with it, a sense of exasperated dread. "Damn it, not this nightmare again," he whispered, raking his hands through his hair. "Two years of peace, and now it's back, haunting me like a malevolent specter. Why now?".
Seated on his bed, Stage's thoughts swirled in a vortex of uncertainty, as the return of his nightmare's whispered ominous secrets in his ear. His mind raced with the haunting question: why had the nightmare returned? What hidden truth lay hidden beneath its twisted imagery?
As his phone continued its ear-piercing wail, Stage's frustration boiled over. The pulsing headache threatened to consume him whole, and he was tempted to snatch the device and shatter it on the floor.
Stage's hand closed around his phone like a lifeline, his eyes darting to the screen. Lisa's name flashed, and his fatigue vanished. He answered with a hopeful 'Hey, what's up?' his voice infused with a warmth that only she could evoke.
"Lisa's irritated shriek sliced through the phone's speaker, shattering Stage's morning haze. 'Are you kidding me, Stage? What's up?! School's waiting, and so is detention!"
Stage's eyes snapped open, and his world imploded. 'Shit!' he cursed, catapulting out of bed as reality slammed into him: he'd overslept, and forgot about his morning obligation of picking Lisa up every morning.
Lisa unleashed a torrent of sarcasm. "No worries, Stage! Dad's my knight in shining armor. Thanks for making me late... again." The phone call ended with a vicious click, With Stage's apology left dangling.
Stage's frustrated roar echoed through the room: "Ahhhh, shit!", Stage released his pent-up frustration, then strode purposefully toward the bathroom, he still has to get ready for school.
******
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, her serene facade masking a simmering storm. "So, you've decided to grace us with your presence," she said, her tone a delicate balance of honey and venom, "care to enlighten me on why you're up by this time? You're late."
Elizabeth's reserved demeanor was a clever ruse, a mask that concealed the fiery passions simmering within, waiting to be unleashed by the one person who knew exactly which buttons to press: Stage's grandma, the singular catalyst for her carefully suppressed emotions.
"My nightmare is back, I overslept, and now Lisa is angry at me." His voice was laced with desperation, "Please, Mom, go easy on me today. I'm drowning in my chaos and barely holding on to my sanity this morning, Okay."
Stage's lips brushed against Elizabeth's cheek before he settled beside her at the table, to have his breakfast.
Alora's gentle hands clasped together, her expression a mix of love and dismay. "Lisa, again? My dear baby, I've told you before, she isn't good enough for you. You're a masterpiece, and she's merely a sketch. Don't let her fleeting charm blind you, you deserve someone better and Worthy of you and this family."
Alora's words still lingering in the air, Elizabeth's focus shifted to Stage, her eyes flashing with a mix of irritation and concern as if seeking refuge in the one person who could anchor her amidst the turmoil of her mother-in-law's opinions.
Elizabeth's gentle hands cradled Stage's face, her tone laced with worry. "it's been two years, why's it back? why now?"
Alora's venomous words spewed forth like a pent-up storm. "If only you'd devoted half the energy to your marriage as you do to that worthless brother of yours and his family, Elizabeth, you'd have given my son a child by now. But no, you prioritize pleasing your own family over your in-laws. Thirty years of marriage, and still, no child to show for it. A blessing finally arrives, and you prove incapable of caring for it. Even divine intervention can't rectify your failures. You should have found a way to resolve this nightmare issue long ago now my grandson is struggling cause of your inability to be a good mother."
Stage's voice rose like a shield, protecting his mother from Alora's venom. 'Grandma, that's enough! you're overstepping you...." Elizabeth grasped Stage's arm, her grip a warning: to bite back the words hovering on his tongue.
Alora was hitting on his Mom with her unnecessary criticisms and this was increasing his irritation.
As Stage's displeasure hung in the air, Alora's words died on her lips, her eyes locked onto Elizabeth's in an angry gaze, but her boldness deflated by the weight of her grandson's disapproval.
"Late for school, and even later for peace." Stage snatched his backpack and made for the door, leaving behind the bitter taste of unfinished breakfast and his disappointment in his grandma's behavior.
GOLDEN LAKE HIGH
"You're late young man, may I know why!"
Miss Erica inquires as soon as Stage makes his way into the class.
"My sincerest apologies, Mrs. Erica. It won't happen again." Stage's words flowed with remorse, his eyes briefly revealing the emotional storm he'd weathered.
Stage settled into his seat, only to be met by Lisa's piercing stare, a dagger of disappointment. Yet, his mind wandered, still entangled in the nightmare he had.
Christopher and Jean's empty chairs beside him caught his attention once again, the silence surrounding their disappearance grew thicker with each passing day, and Stage couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong this time. Their history of impulsive departures didn't calm the storm brewing in his mind, not even a little. Leaving him unfocused throughout the class.
The lunch bell shattered the morning's monotony, and Stage sprang into action, backpack in hand, only to be halted by Lisa's insistent tug on his arm. "Come on, I'm waiting!"
"Waiting for what?" Stage's voice rose, infused with puzzlement and impatience as he turned to face Lisa.
"Are you serious? You single-handedly sabotaged my day, and I'm the one paying the price. Detention, Stage – all because of your carelessness. An apology's just the beginning of what you owe me." Lisa's frustration erupted.
"Sorry, Lisa... Are you satisfied now? Can I go now" Stage's apology was tinged with frustration.
"Stage?! You've got to be kidding me!" Lisa's voice shattered the air, a mixture of shock and outrage.
"Not today, Lisa." Stage's words cut through the tension before he vanished into the crowd, leaving Lisa's anger to boil over.
As Stage navigated the hallway, Mrs. Smith, the principal's assistant, intercepted him. "Good afternoon, dear," she said with a warm smile. "Are you on a mission to see Principal Adams?"
Stage halted, his purpose momentarily diverted. "Actually, yes. Is he in?"
Mrs. Smith's expression turned sympathetic. "I'm afraid not, dear. He's out for the day. Is everything alright?"
Stage's unease simmered beneath the surface. "Just wanted to say hi. Never mind, thanks." He swiftly continued on his way, phone already in hand.
He dialed Christopher and Jean once more, but both calls plunged into voicemail's dark abyss. The gnawing feeling in his gut intensified. Stage decided to abandon school and investigate Christopher's place – again. Perhaps he'd missed something.
Sliding into his sleek black Tesla Cybertruck, Stage felt a sense of isolation. The vehicle, a rarity in school, now seemed like a cold, metallic cocoon. Anxiety clawed at his mind with every passing minute.
Just as he was succumbing to despair, his phone shattered the silence. Stage snatched it, hoping against hope it was Christopher or Jean. Instead, his mom's name flashed on the screen.
"Come home immediately, someone's waiting for you," Elizabeth urged, her voice trembling.
Stage's heart skipped a beat. "Who is it? What's wrong, Mom?"
"Please, just come home fast, okay?" The line went dead.
A chill coursed through Stage's veins as he executed a hasty U-turn. His Tesla devoured the distance, but his mind raced faster. Fear gripped his heart, squeezing tighter with each approaching mile.
He screeched to a halt in front of the house, abandoning his usual garage routine. "Mom! Mom!!" Stage's voice cracked as he burst through the door.
"We're over here," Elizabeth replied from the living room.
Stage sprinted toward the sound, finding his mom alongside Sheriff Sarah. The unexpected presence of law enforcement ignited a spark of fear in him.
"We need your help, Stage," the sheriff said, her expression grave.
In that instant, Stage knew the world had shifted. Something was wrong.
But he had no inkling it was merely the beginning of chaos.