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Alex did not live a structured life.
Long hours at work, longer hours while gaming, and an even longer time spent watching various Vtubers with various differing schedules.
It went without saying, his sleep was often far too short, far too late, or even too long – You could loosely compare his circadian rhythm with the rhythm of a British free style rapper choking on his breakfast.
Nonetheless, as many other people with similar circumstances, he lived a decent life. A home, a few good friends, and more than few friendly acquaintances. He even had a good relationship with most of his family!
And most importantly, despite going through life rather haphazardly without a concrete plan or goal in mind, Alex had something that remained fixed. A pillar of stability and reliability that gave him some peace of mind:
Every day, without fail, he went for a night walk. Regardless of any obligations, he would set aside some time to go outside, so could rest his mind and gather his thoughts.
And as luck would have it, he was on one such walks. (Lucky for me, as other instances of his existence are hardly anything to write about. Exciting for him perhaps, but not the for the fool who took the time to document this particular young man’s life.)
While he tried to switch up the route he took every day, many parts of his journey remained the same. If he tried a new path and ended up getting lost, his walk would take far longer than planned, so he decided not to take that risk. And why should he? The goal of his walks was to move his body and spend some time relaxing away from everything. Seeing the place he grew up in was not high in the list of his priorities.
If you regularly spend time somewhere, you start to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. The same children playing at the side of the street, the same teenager hanging out at the foot of some stairs, and the occasionally raging complaints of a streamer. (He suspected it was a streamer, and not some weirdo monologuing to themselves. For his peace of mind, if nothing else. Aside from the few times he heard them mentioning Pee with a blistering intensity, they too seemed to be a simple and easily ignored part of his life’s background).
But this time, he found none of that. The streets were empty.
Through the windows of the houses, he could see light burning, so it wasn’t as if the street was deserted. It was a mild night after a hot day, but everyone kept their windows closed, and the curtains drawn.
Even the streetlamps seemed dim. True, not every lamp would shine bright after years of use, but they were never all equally bright. Or dim, in this case.
All this was exceedingly strange, but up until this point, Alex did not consciously notice anything off. He was mentally far too drained to pay proper attention, but subconsciously, he knew. Something in gut told him to leave, to turn around and forget this. Abandon the walk midway and return home.
But he didn’t. Maybe it was his tired state of mind. Maybe it was his stubbornness, the firm belief nothing would happen in his city. Or maybe it was his desperate need to adhere to structure in his life, even if only a little.
In the end, the why did not matter, only the what.
As he continued on, and his instincts became increasingly hard to ignore, he turned a corner. The eerie atmosphere of an empty street with impossibly uniform lamps gave way to complete silence. The distant sounds of the city disappeared, as if he had left it.
Dread pooled in his gut. Sweat formed on his brow. His heart beat as if it would burst out of his chest any moment. He now knew without certainty that something was wrong, but as he tried to turn around, his dread rose even higher.
His body, despite fervent attempts to move, remained still, completely out his control. Even his breathing was done without his input; even, and far more controlled than he would have managed in this situation. His eyes remained firmly ahead, blinking at ten second intervals.
Without warning, his body started to move. Every step was perfectly placed, and his posture was without flaw. His face stretched into a small, content smile, as if to reassure any non-existent bystanders that he was fine, and nothing strange was going on.
He was not fine. The only sign of his predicament was the sweat on his brow and his paling face, but in the dim light of the streetlamps, even if someone were to happen upon him, they would notice anything amiss.
After a short hundred-meter walk, and an eternity inside of Alex mind, his body slowed down, and he came to a stop.
With inhuman slowness, he turned his head at an upward angle, until his eyes came to rest at a familiar window, open, unlike any other window in the street.
‘That’s the window of that streamer!’, he thought to himself. But like everyone and everything else, no sound could be heard, and no person could be seen.
S̵͕̣̜̟̃̑̌̕E̶̫̿͘̚E̶̢̮͈̥̞̦̥̻͈̋͋̓̍̕!̶̢̨͖͎̺͍̪̲̆
A silent voice pierced his brain. But he did not see.
S̵͕̣̜̟̃̑̌̕E̶̫̿͘̚E̶̢̮͈̥̞̦̥̻͈̋͋̓̍̕!̶̢̨͖͎̺͍̪̲̆
It tried again. But he still did not see.
S̵͕̣̜̟̃̑̌̕E̶̫̿͘̚E̶̢̮͈̥̞̦̥̻͈̋͋̓̍̕!̶̢̨͖͎̺͍̪̲̆
And. He. Did. SEE.
Teeth. Teeth. Rows of Teeth. Rows upon Rows. Growing Terror after every Row. Infinite, but coming to an End.
W̶̦̰̤̏̇ḩ̸̧̗̣̜̰͔̑a̴̘̬̯̜̋t̸̹̠̓͗͜ ̷̞̟̳̰̮̹͙̰͗̈́̿̒͌̅͊̽̕͜ç̷͉̜̀̀̄̓̎̾̂͝â̴̡͈͖̊̅̿̂͆͒n̵̛̹̣͇̗͖̮̾̈́͂͑̈́͒̉͒ͅn̷̖̤͍̜͕̬̭̽̎̾͊̋͆̍͗̔ơ̴̖̜͚̮̌̓̔͛̌̈́͂t̸̘̟̘̙̯̅̓̓̎̕ ̴̻̘̤̖̭͇̊̐͘͜b̶̫̭̖̹͖͎̦̮͚͌̾ę̵̡̻̭͓̲̪̼̃̃͗͋̌.̶͙͓͓̏̿̃͜
Flesh. Crystal. Translucent body, but Nothing behind. A pattern of Tortured Souls. Unheard Screams, destroying all that dare approach.
W̶̲̮̹̺͖̻͖̝͒̏͂̀̓̚ḧ̵́͜a̸̹͎͝͝t̷̠͈͎͈̄̾̎̑ ̵̟͕̱̞͎̩̳͇̑̐̏̔̈́͒͒s̸̡̡̙̞̳̪̲͈̣͌͒̉̀̈́̂̓͘͝ͅḧ̷̘̹́̃̐̄͜ö̶̡̱͈͈̫̹́͠ȗ̷̡̢̥͕̪̪̗͖͕͉̊͝l̸̝̬̉̽͊̆̊̾͗͛̚d̴͙̲̟̞͖̩͎̂̑̓̈ͅ ̸̪̘̯̚ņ̴̳̲̟̤͖͇̪̤̹̏̀̈́͂̽o̵̹͛͒̇̓͝͝t̷̡̢̨͓͓̪̗͌̉͐̍ ̷͔̮͚̀̓̇̈́͂ͅb̵̨̨̟̳̳̣̭͎̣̘̿̉̐̄̋̕ę̶̮͍̫͈̤̪̙͖̹̒͆̈́̌̅̇.̴̛̳̻̅́̏̈́̓̕͜
A Shell. A Longing. A Promise. Bottomless Hunger, waiting to be filled.
W̶̡̺̩̦͙̩͆ẖ̵̮̊̃ằ̷͉̫t̵̡̻̝̺̳͇͔̀̎̇̾̏͂̄ ̷̖̎̂̏̚̚͜͝w̸̩̬̎i̸̢̼̒̉̀̔͛̃̒̇ͅl̷̗̬͚̜͚̆l̵̝̃̑̂͂̾ ̸̨͍̮̣̹̘͖͍͌̃͜n̷̦͐͐̐̋͝͝o̴̡͙͎̬͓̲̺̪͑̑̈́̾ͅt̵͚̙͖̋̇͑̇̐̾̚ ̸̣̙̠̬͖̈́̃̄̄̓̃̇b̵̨̺̟̭̼͖̦̦̻͘̚͘ȩ̴̗͓̈́̊͒͆͑̕.̶̧̺͔͚̳̗̿͋
All this, contained in a small and cute Snail, sitting on the windowsill.
W̷̪̱̘̘͉͇̉͑̓̚͠ͅh̶̳̼͒̓̈́̎̋͊̉͑à̴͖̱̯̖̹̻͕̈́̆̌͗̈́͗̕̕͜͠t̸̑̈́̍̾̎͒̈́̈́͘͜͠ ̵̪͉̱͓̐̔̎̊͌̕̚i̴̧̢̤͔̯̺̬̠̭͌͒̑s̷̲̼̲̆͗͂̈́̿̂̈́̕͝ͅ!̴̡̛̭̲͕̜̝̲͇͙͆͐̊͆̈́͋͒͜͝
Alex desperately tried to forget what he saw, to put the horrors out of his mind. But what is Seen cannot be Unseen, and by broadening his mind to See, his mind was open to more he ever expected. Where once was silence, he heard the tapping of a keyboard, accompanying his very thoughts and actions.
His eyes and ears bled, and a horrible, dull pain spread from his head to the rest of his body. He dry heaved, desperate to expel something, anything! But he was empty.
His vision swam, his knees were weak, but he could move again!
He made to stand up, ready to run for his life. But as his eyes wandered from the ground beneath him to the streets ahead, it was there again. The Snail.
He stumbled on fell, crawling backwards in fear. The Snail was closer.
He blinked. The Snail was closer. He could feel its terrible presence.
Empowered by his growing desperation, he threw himself into a standing position, and ran as fast in the other direction. The presence drew ever closer.
Every moment it was gaining on him, his legs threatened to give out in fear. But he held steadfast. The clacking of the keyboard grew frantic.
The empty streets seemed endless, and as he continued on, the streets grew more and more uniform. The paint on the walls seemed to flow together. The windows switched places, until every house had the same amount. The doors shattered and re-combined in a perfect blend of all materials, slotting into place. And the lamps grew ever dimmer.
Any hope he had was slowly dying, as exhaustion crept along his limbs. It was a miracle he survived this long, but his time was coming to an end.
But suddenly, a flicker of light in the corner of his eyes. With the last remnants of strength he had left, he turned right, running at a wall. He could already feel something sharp cutting into his back, and at that moment, his mind almost broke in fear.
But he endured.
He hit the wall at full speed, but instead of the pain his brain was expecting, he was assaulted by an onslaught of sensations. The sound of the city’s night life. On a normal night, this would have been quiet background noise, but that night, it seemed incredibly loud. Blessedly so!
His eyes burned from the sudden increase in the light level, but he relished in the pain. Even the bit of blood flowing down his shoulder was unimportant in the face of his relief.
The few people on the street looked at him strangely, but he did not care. He was alive!
He risked a quick glance behind and saw a normal street. A few housewives chatting on their balconies, with their windows wide open. In the distance, he could hear a dog barking.
Uncaring of how people might see him, he threw his head back and laughed. He laughed, from the bottom of his heart, as tears of relief streamed down his face.
“All’s well that end’s well, I suppose.” He said to himself. But as he said it, he realized what he just said. The tapping returned.
Around him, he heard soft impacts on the streets. As if someone stacked multiple pillows on top of each other to form a small tower, and it finally fell over.
With hesitation and reluctance, he turned his eyes on the street ahead.
Where people stood before, now there were Snails. Where children played, there were fewer, smaller Snails. Where adults conversed, more and bigger Snails gathered. They were smiling.
He stood still, waiting for them to do something. But they did not. They stood there and smiled. Staring.
With growing dread, he realized they were not looking at him. Their gaze was directed at something behind him.
All Hope left him, and he crumbled to his knees.
And. He. SAW.