Edward stood in the doorway, following the chill of the glass with his fingertips. Beyond, the world seemed unreal, as though it had been turned upside down. The house was too quiet, too small—but outside, the streets towered. They waited, vacant.
Night had fallen, darker than it had a right to. The moon hung far in the sky, its thin face shrouded by clouds hugging closely, swallowing any pretense of light. Edward was used to the sunlessness, but tonight, it overtook him.
He flung the door open wide, the latch creaking too noisily in the thick silence. Darkness nipped at him, cold and irresistible. He stood for a moment on the porch, rebuckling his mask and gloves as though they were armor against whatever was out in the darkness.
It had never been this quiet at night before, but this time, it was different. There was no sheen of late-night traffic, no comforting hum of distant city lights. The streets were empty, the buildings looming about him plunged into darkness, as though they too had been emptied. A few windows were alight, but not many—far fewer than he recalled. The streets were strangely deserted.
As he emerged, the door slammed shut behind him with a hollow thud. The weight of what he had ventured out for closed in on him. He shouldn't have come out tonight. His phone had cautioned him: Stay home. But the fear of being trapped in that isolated house—of being smothered by the darkness, by the shadows—had been stronger than any warning.
The street stretched out before him, a peaceful distance. It was much like any other night, really. But there was something in the air—a breath-held sort of quality that hung over everything, as though the world was holding its breath, waiting. Edward stood on the front porch, boots crunching softly over wet asphalt.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking out into the street. The sidewalk stretched both ways, ominously empty. No cars. Not a single car. Flickering streetlights cast dim circles of pale, watered-down light that didn't quite reach the edge of the road.
He swallowed, wrapping his coat closer around himself. He looked at the houses, the windows—black or with sullen, blazing lights. There had yet to be anybody seen on the street. Something was amiss.
It's as though the world is holding its breath, he grumbled under his tongue, the terror creeping up the nape of his neck.
The long-distance snarling caused him to come to an abrupt halt.
A shuffle. A dragging step. Soft. It echoed far away in the blackness, from somewhere down the road. Edward's heart leaped. It wasn't a step. It wasn't a natural sound either.
The shadows engulfed it almost immediately, leaving an empty space that seemed to grow larger around him. But then—another shuffle, this one nearer. A dragging sound, slow and clumsy.
Edward tensed. He didn't know where it was, just that it was. That odd, lone sound, not of silence. Not a walk—a non-rhythmic step, no movement at all. Just... something pulling. Something much larger than it should be.
No cough. No sickness. No wheeze or cough. Only that insidious, insistent crawl.
He took a step back, his mind spiraling into frantic circles. Was something? Someone? A mad fragment of him wanted to run toward the sound, to tell himself it was just someone—a random walker, or maybe someone who had simply wandered by. But the other part of him—the one that saw the darkness wrapping itself around him on all sides—kept him still, wedged where he was.
Edward's gaze focused into the blackness, trying to locate it. The houses across the street were blinded, but there, in the distance, near the dilapidated convenience store, he saw a dark figure. A human form. Maybe? But they weren't moving the right way. Not on purpose. Just fumbling their feet in that odd, disoriented walk.
But it didn't matter. They weren't coming this way.
A blast of wind blew through him, sending a shiver down his spine. He wrapped his coat around him tighter, taking short breaths, misting the mask when he exhaled.
The staggering stopped. And so did the choking stillness—strangling, all the more now. Edward was still straining to listen, but there was nothing more. No more footsteps. No more movement. Only that choking, suffocating silence.
He scanned again, his eyes tracing the other buildings. The roads were empty. Some windows glowed faintly in the distance, but there were no automobiles, no activity. No life. He had no idea if it was an illusion created by the darkness, or if the town itself had been evacuated.
There was something not quite right. Not even close.
He pushed himself on, past gray-painted houses, past undisturbed post offices. Every step sounded too harsh in the stillness. His heart hammered away in his ear. He was too aware of every tiny sound: gravel crunching off paving, wind blowing softly through the leaves, a distant bird whistle.
He needed to get to Sam's. It had been hours since he'd received the message—hours since her ghostly warning about the lights. She hadn't called him afterward. It was this feeling in the pit of his stomach, some wild creature, warning him that she was... changing. That she was becoming like the rest—like the others creeping out in some kind of mist.
And then, just as the tension had finally accumulated to the breaking point, the lights on a building in the distance flickered on. Not the steady beam of a well-lit home, but the flashy, flickering lights of a vacant building—maybe a restaurant or a cluster of offices. The windows glowed yellow, their light pulsating as though the electricity itself were sick.
Edward wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or more scared. He could make out the silhouette of a shape moving inside. A shadow? An illusion? His heart pounded slightly harder, but he pressed on.
Another stumble. Nearer this time. Another straining step.
He stopped.
Silence.
The sound was drowned out, buried under that suffocating, despicable quiet.
He stood there, unsure whether to go on or turn back.
It was a long, endless night. The streets were empty—too empty, too quiet. And for a moment, Edward was sure he'd heard a breath—low and soft—at his back.
He turned.
Nothing.
Just the street. Just the vacant houses. Just the freezing night that seemed to stretch endlessly on.
Edward stood there for a moment, his eyes scanning the empty street, every shadow holding something now. But nothing was there.
The world was silent.
Not yet, he told himself. It's not yet time.
He turned and continued moving, heading towards Sam's, the shuffle still stuck in his head. The streetlights above buzzed quietly, their light casting long, curved shadows on the cracked sidewalk. And even though he had seen nothing—nobody was behind him, nobody near him—he couldn't help but feel that something was just at the edge of the night, waiting.