May 10th, 2017
Cliff Auburn jolted awake, heart pounding against his ribs like a frantic prisoner. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body slick with sweat. The darkness of his bedroom felt suffocating, the air thick and heavy as if something unseen lingered just beyond his vision.
The nightmare was gone. Again.
It had been the same for three nights in a row—waking up with his pulse racing, fear clinging to his skin, but no memory of what had terrified him. It was like something had followed him from his dreams, retreating just before he could grasp it.
Shoving his damp hair back, Cliff swung his legs over the bed, his bare feet meeting the cold wooden floor. He forced himself to take slow, steady breaths, but the unease in his chest refused to fade.
His room was the same as always: the battered dresser his mother had bought him when he was twelve, the closet with its ever-creaking door, and the window framed by torn curtains. Yet something felt… different.
He scanned the room again. Nothing was out of place, but the feeling remained. A presence, invisible yet undeniable, watching from the corners of the darkened space.
Cliff exhaled sharply. Get a grip, man.
He stood, his tall frame casting shifting shadows against the walls. Pacing the room, he tried to shake the lingering dread. His mom used to say nightmares were whispers from the subconscious, warning signs the mind couldn't ignore.
But this didn't feel like a whisper. It felt like a scream he couldn't hear.
His gaze landed on the old, leather-bound Bible resting on his nightstand. His mother's. She had given it to him just before she died. He had never been particularly religious, but tonight, something about it called to him.
Slowly, he reached for it.
The leather was worn soft by time, the gold-edged pages slightly frayed. As he flipped it open, the familiar scent of aged paper filled the air. His eyes skimmed the text, the words blurring—until they weren't.
"For the great day of His wrath has come, and who is able to stand?"
Cliff's breath caught. The passage sent a shiver through him, but what truly froze his blood was what lay beneath it.
A date.
May 10th, 2017.
Today.
His stomach twisted.
His mind scrambled for a rational explanation—coincidence, exhaustion, a subconscious trick. But the air in the room shifted, a subtle but undeniable change, as if something unseen had just drawn closer.
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
Cliff snapped the book shut.
He needed to get out of here.
Throwing on a hoodie, he grabbed his phone and slipped out of the house, his pulse thrumming in his ears.
The Night
The night air hit him like a splash of cold water, clearing his head. The street was empty, lined with dimly lit houses, their windows dark like hollow eyes.
Cliff walked, his footsteps echoing in the silence. For the first time in days, he could breathe. Maybe he was just stressed. Maybe the nightmares were nothing.
But then—
A noise.
Soft. Almost imperceptible.
A rustling sound, just behind him.
Not the wind. Not an animal.
Something else.
Cliff's breath hitched. He turned, scanning the shadows. The street remained empty. The houses stood silent. But the feeling of being watched had returned, stronger than before.
He quickened his pace.
The farther he walked, the denser the night seemed to grow, the streetlights flickering, the air humming with an unseen charge. The town felt… wrong. As if something had shifted in the fabric of reality itself.
Then he saw it.
A figure.
Standing beneath a flickering streetlamp at the end of the block.
Cliff stopped, his pulse hammering in his ears.
The figure was motionless, its face obscured by shadow. It stood too still, too silent, like a statue carved from darkness.
Cliff's throat tightened.
His mind screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to move.
Then—
The streetlamp above the figure blinked out.
And the figure was gone.
Cliff stumbled back, his breath coming fast and shallow. He turned and broke into a sprint, his heart slamming against his ribs.
He didn't stop until he reached the park on the outskirts of town, his lungs burning, his mind racing. He doubled over, hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath.
The night was silent again. No footsteps. No rustling. Just the wind whispering through the trees.
Had he imagined it?
Hh
Cliff straightened, his pulse still erratic. He needed to calm down, to think. He pulled out his phone, checking the time.
3:15 AM.
And then—
The screen flickered.
The battery, which had been at 70%, dropped to 0% in an instant. The phone shut off.
A chill ran through him.
He stood frozen, staring at the blank screen, his breath clouding in the cold night air.
Then he heard it.
A whisper.
Low. Indistinct. Coming from behind him.
Cliff turned slowly, his entire body rigid.
The park was empty.
But the whispering didn't stop.
It was all around him now, weaving through the trees, threading through the darkness. The voices were layered, overlapping, speaking in a language he didn't understand.
His chest tightened, panic clawing at his throat. He stumbled back, his mind screaming for him to move—
And then, everything stopped.
The whispering ceased.
The night held its breath.
And Cliff realized he wasn't alone.
Something stood at the edge of the trees.
Tall. Shadowed. Watching.
It didn't move. It didn't speak.
But Cliff felt it.
Something ancient. Something that didn't belong in this world.
A tremor ran through his body.
Then, as if sensing his fear, the figure took a step forward.
Cliff bolted.
The Revelation
By the time he reached his house, his legs felt like lead. His chest heaved, his throat raw from gasping for air. He fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking so badly that he nearly dropped them.
The moment he got inside, he slammed the door shut and locked it.
Silence.
The house was exactly as he had left it. No shadows lurking in the corners, no strange figures watching from the windows.
But he knew what he had seen.
For a long time, Cliff stood there, his back pressed against the door, trying to steady his breathing.
Then, slowly, his eyes drifted back to his nightstand.
To the Bible.
Swallowing hard, he walked over and picked it up. He flipped back to the passage, his fingers trembling.
The date was still there.
May 10th, 2017.
His stomach twisted. His mind reeled.
Was this a warning? A prophecy?
His eyes dropped to the final line of the passage.
"And when the seventh seal was opened, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour."
A shiver coursed through him.
Outside, the wind howled.
And somewhere in the distance, beneath the cover of the night, something whispered his name.
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