..
Damian Derulo 'I see some changes… so I'm no longer human.'
His eyes flickered over the status screen, absorbing the new information. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at his lips.
'That's good news, to be honest…'
Yet, despite the revelation, something felt off. Something was missing.
He couldn't quite place it, but an eerie sense of absence gnawed at him, like a piece of himself that was supposed to be there wasn't.
*Thud*
Damian froze.
His head snapped toward the window as his body tensed instinctively. The sound came from outside.
Slowly, silently, he rose from his bed, his steps measured as he crept toward the glass. With careful precision, he peeked out into the strangely illuminated night.
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Location: Earth – South Africa – Johannesburg.
Year: 2026
Date: February 15th
Time: 9:39 PM
POV: Third Person
---
A cold shiver ran down Damian's spine. The streetlights flickered erratically, their glow weak against the unnatural bright hue that bathed the night. Shadows stretched unnaturally, twisting and writhing as if alive.
Then he saw it.
High above, the Moon—his Moon—was fracturing.
Jagged, glowing cracks split across its once-pristine surface like shattered glass. A low, resonant hum filled the air, vibrating through his bones, as if the universe itself was screaming.
Then—
BOOM!
The Moon detonated, a colossal chunk shearing off in a silent explosion of silver dust and molten debris. The force rippled across the sky, distorting the clouds in a spiraling shockwave. Lunar fragments, some as large as city blocks, hurtled toward Earth, streaking like burning meteors.
A flash—then a roaring impact.
The ground lurched beneath Damian's feet, sending him sprawling backward. Buildings trembled. Windows shattered. Car alarms shrieked into the night. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the distinct sound of metal ripping apart, followed by the screams of those who weren't fast enough to react.
Then, something far worse happened.
A thick, black liquid seeped from the shattered remains of the Moon. It didn't float in space—it moved, writhing and twisting as if it were alive. The moment it touched the falling debris, the rocks themselves began to change.
Damian's breath caught in his throat as one of the smaller fragments crashed into the nearby park. The impact sent a massive shockwave rolling through the city, toppling trees like matchsticks. But what made his stomach churn was what came next.
The black ichor oozed over the rocks, sinking into the earth. Within moments, the grass and soil writhed, pulsing like diseased flesh. Then—sudden movement.
Something emerged.
It wasn't human. It wasn't even animal.
Twisted limbs—too many—slithered out of the tainted earth. Eyes, glowing with an unnatural golden light, blinked open in unnatural places. The air itself grew thick, as if reality was struggling to contain whatever was clawing its way free.
Damian's instincts screamed at him to run. But his legs wouldn't move.
The Moon was dead.
The world seemed to be nearing it's end.
And something terrible was in process.
Damian staggered backward, his breath ragged, his fingers gripping the windowsill as his mind struggled to process what he had just witnessed. The sky remained a chaotic storm of falling lunar debris, streaking like hellfire across the heavens, yet it wasn't the destruction— not did there seemed to be any — outside that made his blood run cold.
It was the things now roaming the streets.
At first, he thought they were just people—injured survivors staggering through the wreckage. But then he saw their movements—unnatural, erratic, wrong. Their bodies twisted and cracked, heads lolling unnaturally to the side as if their spines had given up. Their skin pulsed, black veins crawling beneath the surface like something alive was slithering underneath.
And their eyes—empty, glowing with an eerie golden light—void of humanity.
Then, as if some silent command had been given, they screamed—a wretched, inhuman shriek that split the night apart.
They ran.
Not shuffled. Not stumbled.
They sprinted—ravenous, unrelenting—hurling themselves through glass windows, ripping through metal, flipping cars like they were toys. They weren't just attacking people; they were tearing apart everything in their path.
Damian's chest tightened. His instincts screamed for him to run. To move. But his body remained frozen in place. He forced himself to turn, staggering back from the window.
Get inside. Hide.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he bolted toward the closet. He ripped the door open, stepped inside, and shut it behind him. His breath was shallow, controlled, his mind racing.
Then—a crash.
Something massive slammed into a car outside, sending its alarm into a desperate wail before going silent—snuffed out like a candle. He squeezed his eyes shut, heart hammering against his ribs.
Then he remembered.
Damian Derulo 'Is this what he meant when he said that the world is being rewritten? '
The words clawed their way back into his mind—the warning he had dismissed thinking of it as something that won't be of a drastic change— given by a man whose very presence had made his skin crawl.
The world was being rewritten.
Not just changed. Fundamentally altered.
He clenched his teeth. His hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms as a bitter taste filled his mouth.
Then he noticed it.
Everything was destroyed—cars, houses, entire streets cracked and burning—but his home…
It was untouched.
Not a single window shattered. Not a single dent in the walls. The wind howled, but his door didn't rattle. The world outside was chaos, but inside his house, it was silent.
Why?
Why was he left alone?
Why did it feel like something was watching him, waiting for him to realize something he couldn't yet see?
Damian swallowed, tightening his grip on reality.
This wasn't over.
A deep, unsettling vibration slithered through the floor, rattling the walls like a living heartbeat beneath his feet. Damian sat frozen, his back pressed against the closet wall, his breaths shallow. It wasn't just an earthquake. It wasn't just destruction.
The house groaned—not from pressure, not from impact, but from existence itself shifting. The feeling was wrong, like reality was unraveling and knitting itself back together at the same time.
Damian clenched his fists, forcing himself to move. He needed to see what was happening.
He hesitated at the barricaded front door. No, it was too exposed and unbarricading it will make too much noise. If those things were still out there, he'd be dead before he understood what was going on.
Instead, he turned toward the garage.
His hands shook as he unlatched the first lock. Click.
Then the second. Click.
The third lock jammed for a second, and his pulse spiked before it finally gave way. Click.
He exhaled sharply and pushed the door open.
Then he stepped outside.
And his mind shattered.
The world was… wrong.
The street he had known his whole life no longer existed—or rather, it had been twisted into something unrecognizable. Buildings had shifted positions, their structures warped and stretched, as if reality had tried to rearrange them but had failed to do so cleanly.
Roads curled into impossible loops, stretching into new forests that hadn't existed minutes ago.
Mountains loomed where there had only been city skyline.
And the sky—the sky was no longer Earth's.
Damian tilted his head back, his breath catching in his throat. The stars had changed. Constellations pulsed with an eerie, rhythmic glow, moving too fluidly for something that should have been fixed in space.
And beyond them…
They watched.
Vast, unknowable celestial bodies stared down at the world, their golden pupils spiraling, shifting, as though aware of his presence. He felt their gaze press against his very soul.
His stomach twisted. He wanted to look away. But then he saw the final horror.
Across the ruined city—on buildings, on streets, even etched into the very air—dark inscriptions appeared, glowing faintly. The symbols slithered like living things, shifting, rearranging, speaking in a language that had never been spoken—and yet he understood.
Not fully. Not yet.
But something in his mind twisted, urging him to read, to know.
His fingers twitched. His heartbeat slowed.
The Earth was no longer Earth.
And something had ensured he was here to witness it.
..
.
Location: Earth – South Africa – Johannesburg.
Year: 2026
Date: February 16th
Time: 11:58 PM
POV: Third Person
..
Damian's eyes snapped open.
His breath was steady. His body felt… normal.
He sat up, his fingers gripping the edges of his bed as a cold sweat clung to his skin. His heart pounded—not from exertion, but from an unshakable, lingering dread.
Had it been a dream?
His gaze darted around the room. Everything looked the same. His desk, the dim glow of his phone screen, the faint hum of the ceiling fan overhead—it was all too ordinary. Too untouched.
And yet…
A whisper of a memory coiled around his mind, refusing to fade. He had walked outside. He had seen the world break apart. He had felt the sky watching him.
So how was he back in his bed?
He rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of it. Had he passed out? Had something brought him back? The last thing he remembered was—
A thud.
His thoughts shattered as a dull, heavy impact echoed from outside.
Every instinct in his body screamed at him. He launched himself out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cold tiled floor as he raced toward the window. He hesitated before looking outside—half dreading what he might see.
But he found 'nothing' no glowing inscriptions, no twisted earth, no 'mass' destruction, no eyes in the sky or constellations moving in erratic patterns.
The skies regained their normal color but the moon.
Damian's blood ran cold.
The moon looked like a large part has been ripped out with small fragments floating closer to it.
Then suddenly a second thud rang out. Closer.
He didn't wait.
He spun on his heel and sprinted. Straight for the garage.
He ran straight for the door and he slammed it down behind him, locking it in one fluid motion. One. Two. Three locks clicked into place.
His breaths came fast and uneven, his pulse pounding in his ears.
His mind was a chaotic mess of questions.
"How did I get back into my house?"
"Why was I in bed like nothing happened?"
"What brought me back?"
"Was what I saw real or a messed up hallucination?"
No answer came.
And outside… Something—or someone—was moving. Literally.
.
.
.
.
.
To Be Continued....