Turning the lighthouse's gears was difficult; they were rusty and sounded like someone in pain. The light swept across the never-ending dusk. The craggy coastline met the rough sea below, which was covered in a layer of oil.
"Paradise? Hardly," I grumbled. My dog, Alpha, a messy terrier mix, seemed to agree as he bumped my leg. It felt more like paradise had been ruined.
It's been five years since the Skyfall. Nobody knows exactly what the meteorites carried, only that they turned the world into a toxic wasteland.
Those who weren't immediately killed by the initial blast and radiation began to...change. Distorting. And they got hungry. Really hungry.
We found this lighthouse – a leftover from the time before the world changed. Back then, the ocean wasn't full of drowned buildings and strange, changed fish. We made the lighthouse our safe place.
There were seven of us: Rico, Blake, Vien, Sid, Nick, Spencer, and me.
We spent our time fishing and carefully using the canned food we found, food that was made before the Skyfall event. We tried to live as normal as possible.
We even had rules. The most important: never, ever, leave the tower after sunset. That's when they came.
"Gabby! Fish on!" Spencer yelled. His voice carried from the fishing spot he'd set up by the lighthouse.
Spencer was a longtime friend and really the only person who could still make me smile. Even when I was feeling terrible, fighting off bad memories, he could still get me to laugh.
"I'm here!" I yelled, and turned the handle one last time.
Alpha barked, as if he knew I was ready to go. We quickly went down the spiral staircase, and the wet, salty air of the sea filled our lungs.
Spencer pulled up a strange-looking codfish. Its gills were glowing with an unnatural light and pulsing rapidly.
"Dinner is served, my queen," he said with a mock bow. Usually, his eyes were full of life, but now they looked tired, just like I felt.
"Looks like it's gonna glow in the dark too," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. But the humor felt forced. We both knew it.
That night, we had a small dinner of glowing fish and crackers. Rico suddenly started acting strangely. He was pale and kept staring out the window.
"What's wrong, Rico?" Vien asked. She sounded concerned.
He shook his head, "I…I thought I heard my mom. Calling my name."
"Rico, it's the wind," Blake said, trying to be reassuring. "It's been howling all day."
"No, it was her voice," he insisted, his eyes wide with fear. "I know her voice."
That's when I knew. We were screwed.
The following hours were like a terrifying nightmare coming to life. Rico couldn't ignore his mother's voice calling to him, so he snuck away from us while we were asleep. The next morning, we discovered his body in pieces, spread all over the beach.
Those creatures are incredibly fast and leave nothing behind.
Then came Blake, he was drawn in by the sound of his dead sister's laugh, a sound he knew well.
Then Vien. She followed the gentle lullaby her grandmother used to sing to her, a song that brought comfort.
After her, Sid went towards the sound of his dog barking.
And Nick, the stoic one, the one who never showed fear, was the last to fall to the whispers of his deceased father.
Each death was more gruesome, more soul-crushing than the last. The creatures didn't just kill them; they ripped them into pieces. The scene they left behind was a bloody, awful mess that turned the sand red.
Spencer and I barricaded ourselves inside the tower, the constant groan of the mutated voices a living hell. They called our names, mimicking our loved ones, our parents, friends, even our own voices from the past.
"Don't listen to them, Gabby!" Spencer yelled, his voice sounding like it was about to break. "It's not real!"
But it was. It felt real. The voices knew our deepest desires, our greatest fears. They knew our names.
One evening, I heard my mother's voice. It was soft, gentle, just like I remembered. "Gabby, honey, it's okay. Come home."
I froze, my hand reaching for the door. Spencer grabbed me, his grip surprisingly strong.
"Don't! Gabby, don't!"
I fought with everything I had, tears streaming down my face. I wanted to believe it was her. I needed to believe it was her.
But Spencer was too strong. He tied me to a chair. His eyes were bloodshot with fatigue and regret as he stood guard over me through the long, dark hours.
The next morning, the voices were gone. The silence was almost worse.
We buried the remains of our friends, each grave a testament to our failure. Spencer and I were the last ones left. The lighthouse felt like a tomb.
"What do we do now?" I asked in a low voice, Alpha let out a little whimper beside me.
Spencer looked at me, his face blank. I couldn't read any emotion there. "We survive."
We continued our routine, fishing, rationing, and avoiding the beach at night. But something had changed. The laughter was gone. The jokes were empty. We were just two ghosts haunting a dying world.
Then came the day the voices returned. But this time, they weren't calling my name. They were calling Spencer's. They were using my voice.
"Spencer, help me! I'm hurt!" the voice cried, mimicking my panicked tone perfectly.
When Spencer turned to me, I saw he looked sick. His face was completely drained of color. "Gabby…?"
I stared back at him, my throat dry. "Spencer, I..."
He looked from me to the open door, his eyes grew wide with fear. The voices were getting louder, more desperate, more real.
"Spencer! Please!"
He didn't hesitate. He rushed out the door, towards the sound of my voice.
I sat there, tied to the chair, Alpha whining and scratching at my feet. I watched him run in the darkness. Soon, I couldn't see him anymore.
Then, silence.
I finally got loose from the ropes, and the chair made a loud creak as I stood up. I went to the edge and looked down at the beach. No Spencer. No monsters. Just the oil-slicked ocean, reflecting the dying sunset.
But there, written in the sand, was a message. With heavy strokes of blood.
They Remember Your Name.
I stared at the ocean, and the truth crashed down on me. The voices weren't coming from the creatures. The creatures were the voices. They were me, you, everyone who had ever lived and loved and lost. They were our collective memories, weaponized against us.
And somehow, they knew about Spencer's loyalty. About the guilt he carried for not saving his own little sister before Skyfall. They knew how to break him.
I looked down at Alpha, noticing his hesitant tail wag. He was the only one left. The only one who didn't have a voice, who didn't have a name to remember.
We would survive. We had to. But what was the point? In a world where your own memories could kill you, what was left to live for?
The lighthouse's light shone across the ocean. It was the only light as night approached. The sun was setting, and the sky turned into blood orange and toxic green.
It was only a matter of time. I knew they'd remember me. And when they did, there would be no escape. The only question was, would I give in to them, or would I find a way to fight back?
Maybe, the only way to survive was to forget. To forget everything. But could I? Could I erase the memories that made me who I am? Could I become a blank slate, can't be lured back to what used to be?
I didn't know. And that, more than anything, terrified me.
The never-ending sound of the ocean felt like a threat, hinting at the terrifying creatures in its depths, waiting for their next victim.
And as the darkness closed in, I knew one thing for sure: This wasn't the end. It was just the beginning of a new kind of hell.