At least, that's how Ramses had grown to see it. The silence had become his constant companion. Time itself felt as if it had been put on hold—frozen in place, with everything around him locked in a perpetual state of dormancy. Streets were devoid of life. Buildings stood silent and lifeless. The world was as if the pause button had been pressed, and he, the lone observer, had been left behind in a world that had stopped moving.
But that morning was different.
For the first time in months, something had stirred. A flicker—a brief, fleeting moment of movement that had caught Ramses' eye. At first, he had dismissed it, thinking his isolation had finally gotten to him, that his mind was playing tricks. But when he saw it again, a part of him, deep within, surged with the most unexpected emotion: hope.
Hope—that fragile thing he had buried deep down, convinced that the world would remain stagnant forever.
But no. There was movement. A small tremor in the otherwise still world. A flicker of something that was real, undeniable.
The Growing Unease
Ramses had tried to focus on his routine, as he always did, but the sight of that flicker—something as simple as a slight rustling of leaves far in the distance—plagued his every thought. He couldn't stop replaying it in his mind. What could it mean? Could this be the first sign that the world, so long frozen, was beginning to thaw? Or was it just a fleeting anomaly, a figment of his longing, his desire for something, anything, to change?
The uncertainty gnawed at him, eating away at his sense of control. The frozen world had become his prison, his domain. He had adjusted to the stillness, accepted it as his reality. But now—now that flicker of movement had cracked that reality wide open.
He couldn't sit still any longer. He couldn't just wait and wonder. He needed answers. He needed to know if he was imagining things or if the impossible was truly happening.
Chasing the Change
With a sense of urgency that he hadn't felt in months, Ramses grabbed his coat, a decision surging through him. He wasn't just going to sit around anymore. Whatever that flicker was, he would chase it. He would find it.
The city outside his apartment was eerily quiet, a ghost town frozen in time. But now, every step he took felt like an act of defiance against the stillness, a rebellion against the world that had locked him in. He couldn't ignore it anymore. The movement, the change, it called to him. His feet carried him through the empty streets, faster than he had moved in ages, his eyes scanning every corner, every shadow, every inch of the frozen landscape.
The wind howled, but it felt hollow, devoid of life, its cold bite a reminder that the world had been frozen for far too long. The trees, their branches stretched stiffly toward the sky, were still as statues. Even the dust on the streets remained suspended in midair. But Ramses refused to let the stillness overwhelm him. He focused on the horizon, where he had seen that brief flicker.
It's out there. I know it.
He walked faster, his breath short, each step heavier with the weight of anticipation. The flicker had been so distant, so small. Could it be real? Could something—anything—really be shifting in this world?
As he rounded a corner, the world stretched before him: empty roads, abandoned storefronts, the occasional tree, still frozen in place. It felt surreal, like walking through a painting. But then—he saw it.
There, at the far end of the street, just beyond the cracked pavement, a movement.
At first, it was imperceptible—a shadow that darted between buildings, just a flash, a glimpse that made his heart race. It was there, and then it was gone. But this time, Ramses knew. This wasn't his mind playing tricks. This wasn't a fragment of his loneliness. No. This was real.
A figure. A person. Moving.
The Awakening
Ramses' heart thundered in his chest. His legs trembled with excitement, and for a moment, he nearly stopped breathing. The world had been still for so long that the sight of someone—anyone—moving felt like a jolt of electricity through his veins.
He took a deep breath, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. The figure was distant, still too far away to make out clearly, but the mere fact that it was there—alive, moving—was enough to push him forward.
He started running. His feet pounded against the pavement, the sound of his own footsteps a thunderous rhythm in his ears. The world around him blurred as he sprinted toward the figure, his heart racing, his thoughts consumed by the possibility that this was no mere illusion. This was real.
His lungs burned, but he pushed through the pain, the excitement of the chase driving him forward. The city around him seemed to disappear as he focused on the distant figure, drawing closer with every stride. He didn't care what it was, who it was—he didn't even care if they would talk to him. He just had to know that he wasn't alone, that this world, frozen in time, wasn't all there was left.
The figure moved again.
This time, it was more distinct. A shape. A person. Walking calmly down the street, their back to Ramses, unaware that he was coming. The flickering, the small movement in a world locked in place, seemed to beckon him, urging him forward. Ramses couldn't contain himself any longer.
I'm not alone. I can't be. I'm not crazy.
He shouted. "Hey!" His voice rang out in the empty streets, a desperate, frantic cry.
But the figure didn't turn.
For a moment, panic surged within him. What if they couldn't hear me? What if they were just another trick of my mind?
But then the figure stopped. Slowly, they turned. The figure's face remained obscured, their features shrouded in shadow. They stood there, unmoving, facing Ramses. It felt like time itself had slowed. A beat of silence hung between them.
Ramses' heart skipped a beat. Was this really happening?
He took a cautious step forward, the pounding of his own heart almost deafening in his ears. Every part of him screamed for this to be real. Every part of him needed it to be real.
"I—" he began, his voice hoarse, filled with disbelief, but before he could say another word, the figure turned and began to walk away.
Ramses froze.
For a split second, he thought he saw something in the figure's posture, a flicker of recognition, a shift in their movement—but no. It couldn't be.
He rushed forward, desperate, shouting, "Wait! Please, don't go!"
But the figure didn't stop. It didn't look back. It simply faded into the distance, swallowed up by the fog and shadows of the city.
Ramses stopped dead in his tracks. His breath caught in his throat. His legs shook as the reality of the situation settled in.
The figure was gone.
He stood in the empty street, staring at the spot where the figure had been, struggling to make sense of what had just happened. His heart raced in his chest. He had been so close. So close to something he couldn't explain.
The flicker was real. The world was beginning to change.
But the question remained: Who was that person? Why did they walk away?
A New Dawn
Ramses stood there for what felt like hours, the silence of the city pressing in on him. The figure was gone, but something inside him had shifted. He had seen it. He had witnessed the first real movement in a world that had been stagnant for so long. The flicker had become a flame, and now that flame was burning inside him, pushing him forward.
The world might have been frozen—but it wasn't over. Not yet.
Ramses took a deep breath, his mind racing with possibilities. The world was changing, and he wasn't alone. The freeze was ending.
And that, more than anything else, filled him with an excitement he hadn't felt in years.