A flame flickers, its illuminance shows a teen restlessly turning in his small twin sized mattress, with his cotton comforter strewn about his figure. His eyes flicker incessantly under his darkened, puffy eyelids. His body glimmers under the candles faint flame, a coating of sweat and grime caked on his body. His body is shivering slightly, not due to the absence of heat, it was the beginning of summer, but due to his current predicament.
His nights consisted of terrors ever since a few weeks ago. Coincidentally, that's when he started to believe he was going insane. In his waking hours, which were typically long due to his periodic bouts of insomnia, he saw things.
Things that were… terrifying, to say the least. He has had a constant, overwhelming sense of paranoia and it felt like there was someone- rather something- watching his every move. At first it was unsettling, but it wasn't anything too strange as he got feelings of paranoia after he was awake for over 24 hours. After the first week, he could tell, this was different; it wasn't just the lack of sleep.
Whatever was watching him must have been sadistic, as instead of just ending him, it let him suffer, its sinister presence began to permeate into his daily life- days bled into weeks. His psyche had long been worn thin, then it showed itself. It started as a black dot in the corner of his vision. He hadn't noticed it due to his vision not being the best, he got that from his late father, Isaiah Grandil, who had glaucoma and also had horrible vision.
Abraham, or Abe, also inherited Prader-Willi syndrome from his father, which made him feel hungry at all times. Due to this, Abraham works out constantly- to make sure his overeating does not negatively affect him. Abe could not tell if he was being affected by his lack of sleep or if he was just succumbing to the effects of glaucoma. Now he could- the figure in his vision at all times told him so.
With a jolt, Abe woke up, flinging sweat from his chest as he did so. His eyes dart around the dimly lit room, frantically searching for his tormenter. The figure, still everpresent, ever looming, resides within the edge of his peripherals, always watching, never seen. But today was different, it wasn't just observing, it was speaking. In an almost inaudible volume, the figures' whispers echoed ominously within Abraham's mind.
Abraham yelps in terror, his body tensing as his adrenaline kicks into overdrive, screaming at him to fight or run. The whispers multiply as if there are tens of speakers, the volume adjusting in the same manner. As if he snapped out of a trance, Abraham jumped to his feet. His hands tightening into fists, his first instinct is to fight, even though he knows there is no point.
The figure suddenly moves, its body growing into a large pitch black being. Its body stretches unnaturally, its voice getting louder, the whispers growing into shouts of indecipherable language, almost Eldritch in nature. Abraham's body freezes in sheer and utter horror, his muscles akin to stone, his pores drain him of all of his bodily liquid.
The Eldritch abomination continues to grow, its body turning into a pitch black sludge, splitting with a squelching sound and growing into large, clawed hands dripping with liquid. Its face opens, it emits a screech, so inhuman, so monstrous, that Abraham screams with primal fear, as if all of his ancestors are telling him to run, run and hide from this creature before him.
The only light in the room had long been extinguished, but the darkness was no match for the existence of this creature, the pale moonlight that replaced the flamlet was devoured by the flesh of the eldritch horror standing before Abraham. All of the shadows in the room moved with a beat that he couldn't hear, the only thing he could hear was the deafening whisper of this monster, in the corner of his eye he could see things moving, but nothing moving them.
The once small room became smaller, almost as if the walls were moving the creature and him together. He turned, he ran, he cried. Looking back the creature smiled, with its maw curving to show its teeth, its many, many teeth. Then he fell, and it was upon him. It reached out with its claws, trying to grab him. Then it stopped, everything stopped. He blinked.
He was sitting in his kitchen. It was as if nothing happened, the light reentered his eyes with a familiar greeting of subtle ache. The figure was gone and so was the feeling of eyes watching him. Instead of its presence, there was pain. His mind erupted in it, his body accompanying. The pain was electrifying, literally, it was as if his body was caught in the middle of a bath full of water and a live wire. His mind was melting due to the amount of pain he was experiencing, he could feel his bones creaking under some kind of pressure, his eyes felt as if they would fall out of their sockets. His lungs burning as if inside of a forest lit aflame. He could feel every fiber of his being torn, his existence was nothing but the icy burn of pain. Then there was darkness.
As if someone dunked him in an ice bath, he woke up. The sun struck his eyes first, then the soreness of his body hit him. After that it was the realization. That whatever was in his house last night, had marked him, whether it was a curse or blessing is yet to be seen. Abraham was uneasy due to this revelation and yet he was curious as to what it could possibly mean.
Getting up to his feet proved to be a task of surprisingly minimal effort given the soreness he felt in his limbs. Although, after a few minutes of stretching, the feeling went away, almost as if it was imagined. Instead it was replaced with a strange energy, no it was something else, something more esoteric. It felt powerful. Abraham began to reach out to the energy, trying to delve deep into his own psyche, like he has many times before, but this time he felt something.
Crash
Abraham stared at the broken plate on the floor, his mind swirling with questions. His chest tightened, unsure if he was thrilled or terrified by what had just happened. A part of him wanted to believe it was a fluke, but deep down, he knew better.
He crouched down, his hand hovering over the shards. This time, he wasn't going to try. He just wanted to understand the feeling again—that strange thread of energy. It had felt so real, like it was part of him but something far more profound.
His breathing slowed. He closed his eyes, the world around him fading away. He reached out with his thoughts, searching for the energy. And there it was, faint but steady, pulsing like a distant star in the night sky. It felt warm, alive, almost like it was waiting for him to acknowledge it.
Okay, let's try this again, he thought.
Focusing on the broken plate, Abraham visualized the pieces coming together, reassembling into its original form. At first, nothing happened. The shards stayed stubbornly scattered. But then the energy surged, and he felt an odd tug in the air around him.
The pieces vibrated, then slowly lifted off the floor, aligning themselves like magnets snapping into place. Within seconds, the plate was whole again, hovering inches above his palm.
Abraham gasped, his concentration breaking. The plate clattered back onto the counter, unharmed.
"Holy crap," he whispered, his voice trembling. He backed away, staring at his hands as if they belonged to someone else. "What the hell is happening to me?"
The rest of the day passed in a haze. Abraham couldn't focus on anything—his breakfast went untouched, the TV droned on in the background, and his phone buzzed with unread messages from concerned friends. He didn't reply.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, he found himself pacing his small apartment, his mind replaying the events of the morning. The figure, the whispers, the crushing pain—was it all connected to this newfound ability?
He stopped in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection. His face looked the same, tired and pale, but his eyes… there was something different. A faint shimmer, as though they held a secret only he could see.
Curiosity overcame his fear. Tentatively, he reached toward the mirror, his fingertips brushing the cool glass. To his shock, his fingers sank in, rippling the surface like water.
Abraham yelped, pulling his hand back. The mirror returned to its normal state, smooth and solid.
"Okay, okay. What the actual hell?" His voice wavered, but the spark of curiosity ignited again. He took a deep breath and reached out once more, this time letting his hand slide all the way through.
On the other side, his fingers emerged from the kitchen window across the room. He could see them, ghostly and translucent, as if they were part of the reflection itself.
Abraham's heart raced. He pulled his hand back and stumbled away from the mirror, his mind spinning.
"This can't be real. This… this has to be a dream, right?" He pinched himself, hard. The sharp sting confirmed he was very much awake.
Just as he began to piece together his thoughts, a familiar feeling washed over him—an oppressive weight, like unseen eyes boring into his back. His breath hitched. He turned, scanning the room, but nothing was there.
The air grew colder, the shadows deepening unnaturally. He felt the presence again, stronger this time, and with it came the whispers. They slithered into his mind like venomous snakes, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of incomprehensible words.
"Stop it!" he shouted, clutching his head.
The whispers paused, replaced by a deafening silence. Then, a voice, low and guttural, spoke clearly for the first time.
"You are marked, Abraham. Chosen."
Abraham froze, his heart pounding. "Chosen? Chosen for what?"
The voice didn't answer. Instead, the shadows in the room twisted, pooling into a single point. Slowly, they rose, forming a figure cloaked in darkness, its shape shifting like smoke.
Abraham stumbled back, his mind screaming at him to run, but his body refused to move.
"You bear the gift," the figure said, its voice reverberating like thunder. "But gifts come with a cost. You must learn… or be consumed."
The figure raised a shadowy arm, and the room around Abraham seemed to collapse in on itself. The walls twisted, the floor buckled, and the air turned suffocating. He felt the pressure building, crushing him from all sides.
In desperation, Abraham raised his hands, instinctively summoning the energy within him. A translucent barrier flared to life around him, deflecting the crushing force. The figure recoiled, its form writhing in frustration.
Abraham didn't stop. Fueled by fear and adrenaline, he pushed outward, the barrier expanding and forcing the shadows back. The figure let out a guttural roar, its form dissolving into wisps of smoke.
As the room returned to normal, Abraham collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. The voice lingered in his mind, ominous and cryptic.
"Learn, Abraham. Or perish."
He sat there for what felt like hours, the weight of his new reality sinking in. He didn't know what he was up against, but one thing was clear: this was just the beginning.
Abraham sat on the cold kitchen tiles, his heart pounding in his chest. The echoes of the shadowy figure's words still lingered in his mind. "Learn, or perish."
He clenched his fists, anger bubbling beneath his fear. "Learn what?" he muttered to himself, his voice trembling. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"
No response came, just the silence of his empty apartment. The air felt heavy, as though the encounter had left a lingering residue in the room. But beneath the fear, something else stirred—a faint, unfamiliar sense of determination.
He got to his feet, steadying himself against the counter. His reflection in the window stared back at him, and for the first time, he noticed something in his own eyes—a faint glow, almost imperceptible, like embers smoldering in the dark.
Abraham took a deep breath and made a decision. Whatever this was, he needed to understand it.
Over the next few days, Abraham began experimenting. He started small, focusing on the abilities he had stumbled upon.
The first was the barriers. He discovered that they weren't just instinctual; they responded to his thoughts and emotions. When he concentrated on protecting himself, the barrier was solid and unyielding, like tempered glass. But if he focused on protecting others, it became malleable, expanding to envelop them like a dome.
It wasn't easy. His first few attempts left him exhausted, his head pounding as though he'd run a mental marathon. But with each effort, the process became smoother, more intuitive.
One morning, while practicing in his room, Abraham stumbled upon another aspect of his abilities. He was trying to calm his racing thoughts, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed. As he focused inward, he felt the same energy he'd used to summon the barriers. This time, though, it didn't radiate outward—it flowed in a different direction, subtle and warm.
Curious, he opened his eyes and tried directing the energy toward the flickering anxiety in his chest. To his amazement, the feeling dulled, replaced by a calming sensation.
His heart skipped a beat. If he could do this to himself, could he… influence others?
Later that day, Abraham ventured outside for the first time since the encounter. The city buzzed with life, its sounds and smells almost overwhelming after his days of isolation. He walked aimlessly until he found himself in the park, watching a young couple argue near a fountain.
The woman's face was red with frustration, her voice sharp and cutting. The man stood rigid, his jaw clenched, his words bitter and defensive. The tension between them was palpable, drawing stares from passersby.
Abraham hesitated. Was this really his business? Could he even help without making things worse?
He took a deep breath and reached out with his thoughts. He focused on the couple, picturing their anger melting away, replaced by understanding and calm.
At first, nothing happened. The argument continued, the woman's voice rising. But then, like a wave breaking against the shore, their tones softened. The man sighed, his shoulders relaxing. The woman's expression shifted, confusion flashing across her face before giving way to something gentler.
Abraham pulled back, his head spinning. He had done it—he had influenced them. The realization sent a shiver down his spine.
That night, Abraham dreamed again. He stood in a vast, empty void, the ground beneath him an endless expanse of black glass. The figure was there, its form more defined this time. Its body was still dark and shifting, but its face… it had a face now. Pale and gaunt, with hollow eyes that burned with a sickly yellow light.
"You're learning," it said, its voice resonating in the void. "But you're not ready."
Abraham stepped back, his pulse quickening. "Ready for what?"
The figure didn't answer. Instead, the void around him began to change. Shadows rose from the ground, coalescing into grotesque shapes—twisted beasts with too many limbs and eyes that glowed like the figure's.
Abraham raised his hands instinctively, summoning a barrier as the creatures lunged at him. The shield held, but cracks spiderwebbed across its surface with every impact.
"You can't rely on one tool," the figure said, its tone almost mocking. "Adapt, or perish."
Gritting his teeth, Abraham focused on the creatures. He felt the energy inside him shift, a new current rising. He reached out, pulling at the air around the beasts. Gravity bent to his will, pinning them to the ground.
The figure tilted its head, its lips curving into a faint smile. "Better. But not enough."
The creatures dissolved, and the void collapsed into darkness.
Abraham woke with a start, drenched in sweat. His body ached, but his mind was sharper than ever. The figure's words echoed in his ears: "Adapt, or perish."
He clenched his fists, a spark of determination igniting in his chest. He didn't know who—or what—this figure was, but he wasn't going to let it control him.
He was going to learn. He was going to adapt.
And he was going to fight back.