September 23rd
Ash sat at his desk, staring at the notes he had compiled. The newspaper clippings, the altered student records, the yearbook gaps they were all puzzle pieces, but the picture was still incomplete.
Vincent Darren existed. He had called Ash. He had attended Veridion University. And then, one day, he was erased. Not just from the records. From memory.
Something had taken him.
Something was still watching.
The thought sent an unsettling shiver through him, but Ash exhaled slowly, grounding himself. Fear was useless. Calculations mattered.
The direct approach had gotten him nowhere. Asking questions led to blank stares, hesitant pauses, and people forgetting things mid-conversation. He wasn't going to let that happen to him.
He flipped to a blank page in his journal and wrote down a single sentence:
I will not be erased.
Still, a quiet voice in the back of his mind whispered: And what if you already are?
12:45 PM - Veridion University Library
The library was quieter than usual. The kind of quiet that wasn't peaceful, but expectant.
Ash moved with purpose, his mind ticking through the steps of his plan. He needed a new approach. Digging through official records had led him in circles, but forgotten things had a way of hiding in places no one cared to check.
The university had an old records room in the basement. It hadn't been in use for years, but rumors floated among students about files never transferred, things left behind, history gathering dust. If something had erased Vincent Darren, there might still be traces in places beyond reach of whoever had rewritten reality.
But first, a test.
Ash approached a student near the study tables one he had asked about Vincent the day before.
"Hey," he said, keeping his tone casual. "You ever hear the name Vincent Darren?"
The student frowned, glancing up. Yesterday, she had said no. This time, her brow furrowed deeper, her lips parted slightly before she shook her head. But the hesitation was there.
"No. I don't think so. Why?"
Ash didn't answer. He just nodded and moved on.
People weren't just forgetting. They were resisting something. Or worse, something was resisting them remembering.
1:30 PM - The Abandoned Basement Archives
The door creaked as Ash stepped inside. The air was thick, stale, untouched.
Funny how no one ever talks about basements until they need to hide something.
Rows of metal filing cabinets loomed, their contents yellowed and forgotten. The room smelled of damp paper and neglect, yet beneath it, there was something else a lingering weight, a presence pressed against his skin like static before a storm.
He moved through the aisles, scanning the labels. Years of records stacked away, untouched. Then
A gap.
A section of cabinets had no labels at all.
Ash exhaled slowly, placing his fingers on the cold metal. Why remove the labels unless something here wasn't meant to be found?
He reached for the first drawer, tugging it open.
Inside, the files were crisp, untouched by time. Too untouched. As if they had been placed here recently, despite the dust gathering everywhere else.
His pulse steadied as he flipped through the names, searching for anything any trace of Vincent Darren.
Then, he found it.
A single student record, wedged at the back, nearly hidden.
Vincent Darren.
No student photo. No transcripts. Just a name, an enrollment date… and a withdrawal form with no signature, no reason. Just a blank space where the explanation should be.
Ash's grip tightened. Someone had tried to erase him. But they had missed this.
A chill brushed the back of his neck. He turned sharply
The lights flickered.
A whisper, barely audible, slithered through the air. Not a word. Just a breath.
The room felt smaller.
Ash shoved the file into his bag and backed away. His instincts screamed at him. He had seen enough. Leave. Now.
He turned toward the exit
The door was closed.
He hadn't closed it.
A slow, rhythmic tap-tap-tap echoed from somewhere in the darkness.
His breath steadied, his mind snapping into calculation mode. Panic was useless. Control the situation.
Ash gripped his phone, turning on the flashlight.
The light landed on the door.
Scratched into the metal surface fresh, jagged, carved as if by something not quite human was a sentence.
"You are not the first."
Ash inhaled sharply, forcing his pulse to steady.
A second whisper curled against his ear. Closer this time.
His fingers wrapped around the door handle. He twisted it, shoved
The door opened. The stale air of the hallway rushed in. Normal air. Normal sounds.
He stepped through and slammed the door shut behind him, heart hammering.
For a long moment, he didn't move.
Then, slowly, he looked at the file in his bag.
Vincent Darren had been erased.
But not completely.
And now, Ash had proof.
5:15 PM - Ash's Apartment
He spread the file across his desk, scanning every detail. Something was off.
Vincent wasn't just a random student. He had been involved in something. His records had been altered, his history wiped, but not because he was forgotten.
Because he had found something.
Something someone didn't want remembered.
Ash exhaled and pulled out his journal, flipping to the last page he had written on. His own words stared back at him:
I will not be erased.
Then, just beneath it
A new sentence.
Not in his handwriting.
"We do not erase we correct."
Ash's stomach twisted, his fingers tightening around the pen.
His room was empty. No one had been inside.
And yet, the words were there.
A warning.
Or an invitation.
Ash let out a slow breath and picked up his pen.
He underlined his own words again.
I will not be erased.
Then, flipping to a fresh page, he wrote his next step.
Find out what Vincent Darren discovered.
His mind flicked back to something he had once read
"Do not go gentle into that good night."
It wasn't time to fade away.
It was time to fight back.
If someone had gone this far to warn him, it only meant one thing
He was getting close.