My first thought, as my eyes swept across the park, was that it looked like just... an ordinary park. Trees lined up neatly, benches scattered around, a few dry leaves dancing in the wind. And yet, something felt wrong.
A lingering unease clung to me, as if the anomaly was hidden somewhere in that place—silent, invisible, lying in wait. The closer I got, the heavier the feeling grew, pressing against my chest, even though I couldn't, in any way, pinpoint its source.
It was as if each step pulled me closer to something I couldn't name, but that, inevitably, was calling to me. While a rush of thoughts circled through my mind, I noticed Victor moving past me with slow, heavy steps.
From the corner of my eye, I followed his silhouette as he headed toward the old swing set. Neither Laura, nor Emily, nor I said a word; we just watched in silence, as if any sound might shatter the strange atmosphere wrapping around us.
Victor's gaze, fixed on the swing, carried something enigmatic—a blend of nostalgia and detachment, like he was facing a memory long gone, one that no longer hurt but brought no joy either. There was something intangible in that expression, something that made it impossible to truly read what was going on inside him at that moment.
In that brief silence, it was Emily who broke it. Her voice came out soft, laced with doubt, while her restless eyes scanned every corner of the park, as if searching for something invisible: "There doesn't seem to be anything here" she murmured, her brow slightly furrowed.
Laura, standing beside her, nodded in agreement. Her eyes drifted slowly across the park's empty grounds, as if looking for any sign of life that might confirm they weren't alone. Her expression tightened, caught by a growing unease: "I don't see any families around here..." she whispered, almost to herself: "That's strange... is it really that late already?"
For a moment, when I heard Laura's words, something seemed to click in my mind, like a puzzle piece sliding into place. My eyes scanned the surroundings again, even the farthest points. There was nothing—no presence, no sound, not a single living soul. The place was drowned in a heavy silence, amplifying the sense of abandonment.
And yet, the feeling that She was there, somewhere in that park, grew stronger with each passing second. The problem was the direction: there was no way to tell where it came from. To me, it felt like her presence spilled across the entire space, wrapping around me from every side at once—suffocating, unavoidable.
Then, in the silence that settled again, Victor—who had at some point drifted back closer to us—finally spoke. His voice, low and drawn out, carried an almost cryptic weight, as though even speaking the words was heavy: "I've got... a strange feeling about this place" he murmured, his voice nearly swallowed by the quiet around us. His eyes wandered restlessly over the twisted trees: "It feels like something's been watching me ever since we stepped through the gates"
Honestly, Victor wasn't the only one. Emily and Laura were also scanning the area with tense expressions, as if some unseen discomfort had settled into them. It was as if they could feel—or maybe even knew—that something was off about this park.
Still, the feeling kept slipping away, shapeless, leaving them trapped in a silent unease, unable to grasp why or where that sense of wrongness came from. Either way, even though all of us were already uneasy with the strangeness clinging to the park, a sudden soft breeze swept through, weaving between the trees and lifting my hair slightly.
For a single instant, I had the sharp sensation that someone had arrived—someone who hadn't been there with us before. It was as if a quiet presence had slipped into the space, watching us closely.
But just as quickly as it came, the impression dissolved into the air, scattering like smoke in the wind, leaving behind only doubt about whether it had truly happened or was nothing more than my imagination.
The whole thing left me unsettled. Even combing through every corner of the park, searching for any shadow or trace of someone hidden, I found nothing. The silence pressed in, and the strangeness in the atmosphere only made everything heavier. Then Victor's voice broke through the void again, low but uncertain: "I... think I felt something on that side of the park"
The moment we heard him, our eyes immediately turned toward the direction he pointed. The path he indicated was a narrow stone walkway, partly covered with fallen leaves, winding toward the park's lake.
It wasn't a massive lake, but big enough to be called one—a calm sheet of water, trees looming over it, their shadows stretching across the shimmering surface. Victor was the first to start walking toward it.
Emily, Laura, and I exchanged brief, uncertain glances, but without a word we simply followed. As soon as we reached the edge, our footsteps echoed softly over a stone walkway that circled the shore. The place seemed designed for contemplation: the trimmed grass, a few benches placed just right to offer the best view.
And yet, there was a silence that felt almost suffocating—no one else in sight. Only the moonlight, calm and commanding, shimmered across the crystal-clear water, making the lake glitter as if sprinkled with silver.
Laura was the first to break the stifling quiet. Her voice carried gently through the empty space, drawing the rest of us out of our stillness, our attention still sharp to every shadow and detail around us.
Her eyes swept the area once more, her brow furrowed in concentration, before she spoke in a steady yet wary tone: "There's nothing here"
Victor, who was just a few steps ahead of us, froze. His eyes darted uneasily across the space, like he was trying to catch hold of something invisible, while his hand rose to the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.
He scratched his skin there hard, furrowing his brow: "That's strange..." he muttered, narrowing his eyes: "I could swear I felt something coming from that side"
"Are you sure you're not just imagining things?" Emily asked, breaking the silence she had kept until then. Her voice came out low, almost hesitant, as if she were afraid to even touch the subject: "This place... it might be messing with you, bringing back memories you'd rather keep buried"
Victor's expression remained oddly rigid after Emily's words, as if suspicion had settled deep in his gaze. Before I could say anything, Oliver spoke up in a hesitant tone: "I think you're right..." he murmured, slowly turning toward where we stood. His steady steps echoed faintly on the ground as he moved in our direction, his stare fixed and unreadable.
Emily and Laura also got ready to turn back, following the group's movement. I, without thinking much, mirrored them, ready to turn and head back as well. But in that exact moment, something stopped me. A presence — subtle, yet strangely overwhelming — appeared out of nowhere.
It was strong, powerful, crushing in a way I couldn't describe, as if every known word fell short. My eyes, pulled by an instinct beyond reason, immediately turned to the lake.
I couldn't stop them from widening, my expression twisting into sheer disbelief. A shiver ran down my spine, making my breath falter. Honestly, I had no idea why I was feeling that way — I only knew it wasn't normal.
At some point, Emily, Laura, and Victor seemed to realize I hadn't followed them. Slowly, they approached, their eyes filled with confusion as they silently watched me. The next second, their gazes also shifted to what I was staring at so intently: the lake.
Right in the center of its surface, a humanoid figure stood motionless, resting on the water as if defying every natural law. Though its feet touched the lake, no ripples spread around it — the surface remained smooth as glass.
It was impossible to understand what we were seeing. Its whole body was covered in fragments like shimmering mosaics, constantly rearranging in subtle ways, as though reality itself faltered while trying to sustain it.
There was no way to tell gender, clothing, or even expressions. The being carried no trace of humanity, only the unsettling sense of an error — a glitch in existence itself, something that should never have been there, in that moment or in any other.
As silence weighed heavily over the scene, Laura was the first to break it. Her voice came out low, laced with disbelief and uncertainty, as if even she didn't trust her own words: "Are you... seeing what I'm seeing too?"
Victor, on the other hand, kept his eyes wide, his breathing short and heavy, as if fighting to believe what he was looking at. His fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white, and a thin drop of blood escaped the corner of his lips from biting down so hard. His voice came out hoarse, loaded with both disbelief and fervor: "It's her!"
None of us knew what to say, let alone what to do. The figure had appeared so abruptly, so unexpectedly, that it caught us completely off guard — even me. I hadn't sensed it coming; it was as if, only seconds earlier, it simply hadn't existed.
Then, without warning, it decided to be there — as though it had chosen to materialize before us out of pure whim, simply because it wanted to. For the briefest instant, I dared to blink, and when I opened my eyes again, the figure was gone.
Nothing remained above the lake — only the crystal-clear water shimmering in the light, rippling gently, as though something had just moved across its surface, leaving only fleeting traces of its presence.
"Did it... disappear?" Laura whispered beside me, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Everyone began scanning the surroundings for any clue, but there was no sign of the figure anywhere. From my higher vantage point, nothing stood out in the landscape either. Or at least, nothing had until a few seconds ago.
It was as if it had been there all along, hidden from perception. And suddenly, it appeared right behind me. There were no footsteps, no warning — it was just there, slipping into reality as if it had been granted permission without notice.
Startled and confused, I turned around at once. My eyes locked onto what passed for the face of the strange mosaic figure. For a long moment, we only stared at each other in stillness, as if silence weighed heavier than any words. I said nothing. Neither did it.
Then, almost solemnly, the figure slowly raised its arm made of shifting fragments, each piece moving as if it had a life of its own. I couldn't make out a specific gesture, but I saw the entire mosaic ripple, rearranging itself into patterns that seemed to dance before my eyes.
The next moment, a faint sound — so soft it could barely be real — broke the silence. Like the snap of fingers. Gentle, calm, almost imperceptible... yet somehow it echoed inside me like a muffled thunderclap.
And then, instantly, something strange happened. I realized I was no longer standing on the ground — or rather, my feet weren't resting on anything solid. There was only the void, a complete nothingness where firmness should have been.
When I regained some sense, still shaken with confusion, I forced myself to look around. But there was nothing. Nothing but endless, heavy darkness.
Then my eyes drifted downward, and my breath caught for an instant. Below me was Earth — round, blue, spinning serenely in the abyss. It was the same Earth I knew, with its oceans and continents, but now distant, unreachable. And me... I was outside it, suspended in the void, as if I had been ripped out of reality without warning.