The road was empty. Not a car, not a person. A stretch of cracked asphalt that stretched as far as the eye could see, disappearing into a horizon lost in the haze of heat and dust. Charlie's worn shoes hit the pavement with a dull thud, each step heavier than the last. He'd been walking for hours, not sure where he was going. It didn't matter anymore.
When the truck had broken down, he'd thought it was just another inconvenience in a long line of them. The mechanic in the small town had told him the part needed wouldn't be in until tomorrow. He had no money to stay in a hotel, no one he knew to call, so he decided to walk. It wasn't as if he had anywhere to be. Not anymore.
The sun beat down on him, relentless. He could already feel the burn in his neck, the skin on his face tightening, but he ignored it. No point in worrying about something he couldn't control. Just keep walking.
He had no idea how long he'd been out here. Time seemed to bend and stretch, hours turning into days. But eventually, he noticed something. A figure in the distance. A man.
It was hard to tell at first, the figure so far away that it looked like a dot, a smear in the haze. Charlie squinted, wiping the sweat from his brow. The man was walking too. Not in any hurry. Just walking.
Charlie quickened his pace. Maybe this man would have a car, or a ride, or something. Anything to get him out of this godforsaken place.
When he got closer, he saw him clearly. The man was tall, gaunt. His clothes looked old, worn down to threadbare fabric that could barely hold its shape. The face, though, was the most unsettling. He looked... wrong. No expression. Eyes too empty, like they didn't belong to a person at all. His hair was long, black, hanging down in uneven strands.
Charlie stopped a few feet away, unsure what to make of him. He opened his mouth to ask if the man knew how far it was to the next town, but the words died before they left his lips.
The man's eyes locked onto him, but there was no recognition, no shift in his expression. He just stood there, motionless, as if waiting for something.
Charlie felt a cold, creeping sensation. It started at the back of his neck, snaking down his spine, and for the first time since he'd started walking, he felt the full weight of the world around him. Like something had just shifted, though he couldn't pinpoint why.
He shook it off. He didn't have time to be scared. He stepped forward. "Hey, you—"
The man didn't speak. He didn't even move.
Charlie swallowed hard. His throat felt dry. "Can you help me? My truck broke down a few miles back."
No answer. The man just kept staring at him, silent as the desert itself. Charlie took another step, feeling the tension tightening in his chest. He reached out a hand. Maybe he just needed to shake the guy's shoulder, get him to snap out of whatever trance he was in.
As his hand got closer, the man's head twitched. Just barely. A small, almost imperceptible movement, but enough to make Charlie freeze.
Something wasn't right.
The man's eyes blinked, but it was slow, deliberate. Like he was waking up from a long, deep sleep. And then he tilted his head, just slightly to the side.
Charlie backed up, his heart thumping. He didn't know what was wrong, but everything in him screamed to run.
"Look," he said, his voice shaky now. "I don't know what you are, but you gotta say something. I need help. Please. I—"
The man stepped forward. Just one step. But that was enough to send a jolt through Charlie's body. The man's eyes didn't leave him. They were as cold as glass. Hollow.
And then the man spoke.
"Good luck, or bad."
The words didn't make sense. His mouth barely moved. The sound was flat, like a hollow echo. But Charlie couldn't shake the feeling that the man was somehow... different. Wrong.
Charlie opened his mouth to ask, to tell him he didn't understand, but the man was already turning away, walking again, as if he hadn't just spoken at all.
Charlie stood there for a moment, his heart still racing. He couldn't explain it, but something had shifted in the air. He wasn't sure what the man had meant, but somehow, he felt as though he'd just been marked. Not physically, not in any obvious way. But like something had happened, something invisible.
He watched the man walk away, disappearing into the distance, and then, without thinking, Charlie turned and walked the other way.
The feeling stayed with him, gnawing at the back of his mind. As if something had just happened, something he wasn't ready to understand.
Hours later, as the sun finally dipped beneath the horizon, Charlie stumbled into the next town. He was exhausted. His mouth dry, his legs sore, but he was here. He'd made it.
But as he walked through the streets, something wasn't right. People gave him strange looks, glancing at him with eyes that seemed too focused, too interested. He tried to ignore it. He walked past shops, trying to find somewhere to sit, somewhere to rest, but the eyes followed him. Everywhere.
At the diner, the waitress looked at him like he was a ghost. She didn't ask if he needed a menu or even a drink. Just pointed to an empty booth, not a word spoken. The unease built in his chest, but he sat anyway. He didn't know where else to go.
The food was tasteless. He hardly noticed it. He didn't know what was happening.
That was when it started.
A man entered the diner, and all heads turned. But it wasn't the man that caused the shift. It was what followed him.
A few steps behind him, in the doorframe, stood the wandering man. He walked slowly, deliberately, like he had all the time in the world. No one said a word. The silence grew thicker with every step he took.
Charlie's breath caught in his throat. There was no mistaking it. It was him.
The man's empty eyes met his, and for the first time, Charlie understood. The luck. It wasn't random. It wasn't about chance. It was a curse, and Charlie had been marked.
The waitress, the cook, even the other patrons—they all moved like they were in a trance. Their heads tilted, just slightly, as they watched the man. He stopped at the counter and spoke to the cook, his voice soft, his words unintelligible.
Charlie felt his heart pounding, his skin cold, as if something was closing in on him. His stomach twisted in knots.
There was no escaping it.
The man turned to leave, but not before his eyes met Charlie's once again. No words. Just a look. A look that told Charlie everything he needed to know. The luck had been chosen.
As Charlie left the diner, he could feel it. He didn't know what exactly, but something had broken inside him. He could sense it now, all around him. The world had stopped making sense. People were talking to him, but he couldn't hear them. Cars sped past him, but he didn't feel the wind. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows, stretching as if time had stopped.
And then, with no warning, it hit.
A sharp pain, like a needle driven into his chest. He gasped, clutching his side, as his vision began to fade. His legs buckled beneath him. The world spun, faster and faster. People around him screamed. But Charlie couldn't hear them. He couldn't feel anything anymore. The pain grew more intense, spreading like fire across his chest.
And just like that, everything went quiet.