"Something's wrong with the sky. It's still where it should be, but it's… wrong. I could've sworn I saw… eyes?"
— voicemail, unsent
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
The news anchor's voice droned softly in the background.
"We now have confirmation that the Sleep Anomalies have been reported in five more major cities. Officials urge calm and say the cause is still under investigation—"
Nyra muted the TV. The silence pressed in louder.
Outside her window, the world still looked normal: a bus passed, a dog barked across the street, someone's windchime clinked like glass teeth. But everything felt… off. Like a dream she couldn't wake up from.
Curled in a hoodie two sizes too big, knees to her chest, she half watched the muted screen. The anchor's mouth moved, lips tugging into a rehearsed smile — but Nyra's eyes had already drifted.
The light in the room flickered. Just once.
She didn't flinch. She just paused.
Then it hit — vertigo. Sudden, sharp, like the room had tilted five degrees sideways. She gripped the couch, knuckles pale.
It passed.
Her breath came slowly, controlled. But inside, something shifted.
She glanced toward the window again. Not at the sky — just beneath it. Where clouds shouldn't feel like they're watching you back.
Nyra blinked. Then stood, quietly. Somewhere deep inside, something had started to hum.
She moved to the kitchen, each step too quiet in the still apartment. She wasn't hungry, but routine had its own kind of comfort. The fridge buzzed faintly — its hum louder than usual. Opening the door, she stared at the shelves for a long time.
Nothing looked good. Nothing looked real.
She grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the cap, and took a sip. The silence behind her stayed still — too still.
Am I just anxious? Or is something wrong with the air?
She hated how quickly her thoughts spiraled lately. But this wasn't like before — it wasn't panic or paranoia. It felt more like… instinct. Her phone vibrated on the counter. A notification.
[BREAKING]: CDC joins global investigation into 'Sleep Anomalies' , Officials say there is "no evidence of contagion."
Nyra snorted. "Sure."
Another wave of dizziness rolled through her — sharper, this time. She grabbed the counter's edge, her hands trembled.
And for the briefest second, she heard it.
Not from the TV. Not from outside.
From somewhere behind her mind: A low, distant hum. Like something deep underground… breathing.
She stood frozen. After a few seconds, she whispered, almost to herself—
"I don't think this is a sickness."
She moved to the window again, pulling the curtain back just enough to peek through.
The sky was still there. Cloudless. Pale blue. Unbothered. But her breath caught.
A man stood across the street. Perfectly still. Unblinking. Just… watching her window.
Nyra let the curtain fall.
She backed away slowly, heart pounding, then fading into that familiar numbness. Not panic. Just confirmation. Something was wrong.
She sat back on the couch and stared at the muted TV, eyes unfocused.
The screen flickered. Once. And this time, she didn't look away.