The roles were finally set, and somehow, the whole gym had turned into a living stage. The cultural festival was about to begin in less than an hour. Everyone else looked excited—faces glowing in the warm lantern light, laughter bouncing off the high ceiling; but all I could feel was this tight knot in my chest.
Our stall was ready. The faint smoke of incense curled around us, mixing with the sugary scent of candied apples and fried snacks from the other booths. Shadows clung to the corners of our space, flickering with the light of candles I'd carefully placed. I busied myself with adjusting props, straightening the skulls and charms, lowering the lanterns just enough to make the place look… convincing. Or maybe it was to distract myself from the way my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"This looks legit," Julian said while pinning up paper charms he'd scribbled on with ink earlier. "Creepy, but legit."
Clara swirled dramatically in her cape, like she owned the whole gym. "Of course it does. We're going to win this. Trust me." She winked at me, her grin practically glowing.
I tried to smile back, but my gaze slid to Alden. He was shuffling his tarot deck like he'd been doing it his whole life, the cards whispering against each other in his hands. When his eyes met mine, my stomach dropped. For a split second it felt like he was reading me, like he could peel away the skin of my thoughts and see what I was hiding underneath. I looked away too quickly, pretending to fuss with the crystal ball.
And then the loudspeaker screeched.
"Welcome, everyone, to the annual cultural festival! Enjoy the performances, stalls, and food prepared by your fellow students!"
The crowd surged in like a wave. Parents with toddlers tugging at their sleeves, younger students darting between booths, high schoolers laughing in groups, teachers strolling with easy smiles. In an instant, the gym was alive—noise and color and movement colliding together until the whole place throbbed like a heartbeat.
And then… people started coming to us.
Clara snapped right into character, stepping forward with that showman's grin that made her seem ten feet tall.
"Welcome! Would you like to know your future in love, career, or mystery? Then you're at the right place!"
Her voice cut through the music and chatter like a spark. The first group—two younger girls clutching their glowing Lunar currency, hesitated, then drifted closer, eyes wide. Clara's confidence pulled them in, her words weaving a net around them before they even realized it.
And then more came. One group after another, laughing, curious, dropping their Lunars onto our table. Our crystal-shaped currency glowed faintly under the candlelight, their crescent-moon symbol catching the eye. I explained a few things when I had to, but mostly I stood back and watched in disbelief as our stall became… popular.
Too popular.
Alden handled the readings like a professional, turning cards, tracing palms, letting his voice dip into something that sounded… prophetic. At first, I thought he was just making things up, same as the rest of us. But people's reactions—wide eyes, nervous laughter, goosebumps, made it clear his words cut a little too close to home. Too accurate. I watched his smile as he leaned into the candlelight, and for the first time I realized… it didn't reach his eyes.
And then, just when I thought I might suffocate in that heat and noise—
"Alright, everyone, time for a break!"
The teacher's voice sliced through the gym, and the crowd began to thin. Relief washed over me. My knees felt shaky as I sank into a chair. Four hours had gone by. Four hours, and it was only 9:00 p.m. The festival would stretch on until 11:30, with stalls closing by 11:00. Two and a half more hours. That was it.
Julian ran off and came back with hamburgers, grinning like a kid. "Eat. You'll pass out if you don't."
We sat together, unwrapping greasy paper and chewing in tired silence. For a moment, it almost felt normal—like we were just friends hanging out at some late-night diner. Clara teased Julian for stuffing his mouth too fast, and he shot back with a muffled insult, crumbs flying. I even managed a laugh.
But then I glanced at Alden.
He was smiling. Not at us, not at the food...just smiling faintly to himself. And yet, behind that expression, there was something… wrong. His eyes were distant, almost hollow, as if he were watching something we couldn't see.
I froze mid-bite. My chest tightened, like I'd inhaled glass.
What was that expression?
I couldn't put it into words. It wasn't happiness. It wasn't relief. It was something else. Something heavy. Something dark.
And just as quickly, the break was over.
The crowd surged back, the music started again, and we slipped back into our roles. Tickets piled up—over fifty sold. By the time we counted, we had earned 26,500 Lunars. That was 265 Oracles.
We should've been thrilled.
But the truth?
The truth was inevitable, no matter how long I tried to bury it.
Because even as laughter and voices filled the air, even as glowing crystals clinked on the table, my mind was elsewhere.
The images came uninvited, flashing sharp and bloody; corpses scattered like broken dolls, limbs strewn across the floor of this very gym. The stench of iron, the silence after screaming.
I tried to shove it down, tried to breathe, tried to stay here, in the moment, in the noise and light and warmth of my friends.
But no matter how hard I fought it, the scene replayed itself behind my eyes. Again. And again.
And I knew…
It was going to happen tonight.
Right here.
No matter how hard I tried to run from it.
As decided, my role was to maintain the atmosphere of our stall: the vibe, the lighting, the subtle shifts that made the air feel mysterious and enchanting. At first, I thought I was doing well. Too well. My body was moving on its own, flicking the switches, dimming the lamps, shifting the crystal's glow so naturally it almost felt… rehearsed. Like muscle memory I shouldn't have had.
And then, it happened.
The lights flickered once, twice, then cut out completely.
For a heartbeat, the gym drowned in pitch black. A silence fell, heavy, suffocating. I should've heard voices, laughter, footsteps—but instead there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
And in that nothingness, I saw them.
Eyes.
Far away at first, then closer the longer I stared.
They gleamed in the dark, two slits of burning crimson, crescent-moon pupils cutting through the shadows. They weren't human. No, they weren't just looking at me—they were inside me. Watching, dissecting, like they knew every memory, every thought I was trying to bury.
My breath hitched, shallow and ragged. My knees weakened, and my hands turned ice cold.
The eyes didn't blink. Didn't waver. They just… stared.
I stumbled back, almost tripping over the edge of the stall. My chest hammered against my ribs, and panic clawed at my throat. I turned, bolting toward Alden and the others, but—
They weren't moving.
Julian stood mid-motion, a hamburger halfway to his mouth. Clara's smile froze, her hand reaching for a customer who wasn't breathing, wasn't blinking. Alden's cards hung midair, suspended like gravity had forgotten its job.
Everything was still.
Frozen.
Like time itself had been strangled.
"No… no, no, no—" I gasped, spinning back, my legs refusing to obey, dragging me against my will back to my station. My trembling fingers smacked against the switchboard and I jammed the lights back on.
In an instant, the glow returned.
The chatter of the festival burst alive, laughter, footsteps, Clara's voice mid-sentence, Julian biting down into his food; everything moving again.
But the eyes? Gone.
Like they had never been there at all.
My lungs burned. My throat tightened. I wanted to scream, to claw my way out of that gym and never look back. But I couldn't. Because I knew what I saw. It wasn't my imagination. No, it was too real.
And then...
Right behind my ear.
A voice.
Low. Smooth. Mocking.
"You know what is going to happen tonight… don't you? Avoiding it won't change a thing."
The words slithered into me, curling down my spine like a cold hand. My blood froze. My body locked in place. I couldn't move. I couldn't even breathe.
Images forced themselves into my mind: corpses scattered like broken dolls across the gym floor. Blood pooling under limp hands. Alden's lifeless body sprawled in the wreckage. The laughter. The silence after. I had seen it before. Lived it before.
And now… it was waiting again.
The fear inside me cracked, splintering into something hotter, sharper. Anger. My hands clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms. And then—
It happened.
For the briefest flicker, something cold and heavy bloomed in my grip.
A knife.
The metal glinted faintly, sharp, curved, beautiful in its cruelty. My breath caught, my heart choking on itself as I tried to get a look at it, but before my eyes could adjust, it vanished. Dissolved. Gone.
It was too quick. Too fleeting. But I knew it had been there. I felt it.
That blade belonged to me.
And I knew what it was meant for.
I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stand even as my body trembled, even as my insides begged me to collapse. My voice, broken but determined, whispered the only truth I had left:
"This time… I'm going to end this."
The voice chuckled.
Not loud. Not soft. Just close. Too close. It brushed against my skin, wrapping itself around my ears, my neck, like the presence of someone leaning in.
The sound twisted, bending the air around me, leaving behind a residue I couldn't shake. The gym was alive again, but under it all...beneath the chatter, the lights, the music...something lingered.
A pressure.
A weight.
Like a shadow crawling just beneath the skin of reality.
It didn't fade. Not this time.
It stayed.
Watching.
Waiting.
It was almost 11:00 pm. The festival was nearly over, the cheers and chatter inside the gym fading into a tired but cheerful buzz as stalls slowly closed. Decorations were being pulled down, tables folded, the lingering scent of fried food and incense hanging thick in the air. We were all wrapping up our stall too. I forced a smile, joked around a little, acted like nothing had happened earlier. None of them could know. Not Clara, not Julian, not even Alden.
I told them I'd clear the back where we had stacked our bags. "You guys can keep closing up," I said, trying to sound casual. "I'll bring your bags along." It would save us time. At least that's what I told myself.
The back of the gym was darker, quieter. The voices of parents and teachers were muffled here, almost distant, like they belonged to another world. I crouched down, brushing my hand over the pile of bags until I found Alden's. When I tried to lift it, I noticed something. It was heavier than I expected. Not just books-heavy… something else.
As I tugged it forward, the zipper snagged on the edge of the table and snapped open. Something slipped out and hit the floor with a metallic clatter that echoed far too loud in the silence of that corner.
I froze.
Slowly, I crouched lower, reaching into the dimness where it had rolled. My fingers brushed cold steel.
When I brought it into the faint light, my breath caught in my throat.
A knife.
Its blade gleamed even in the shadows, catching the faint glow of the overhead lights. It wasn't some kitchen knife, no… this was deliberate, sharp, almost ceremonial. The handle was wrapped in dark leather, worn as if it had been gripped many, many times before. For a moment I thought I saw something else on it—faint marks, etchings like tiny veins of red crawling along the steel; but when I blinked, they were gone.
Why?
Why was this in Alden's bag?
The weight of it in my hands felt wrong, as though it was made for something it shouldn't be. My heart pounded against my ribs, so loud I was sure someone would hear it.
The gym suddenly felt colder. The chatter in the background seemed to fade even more, replaced by a low hum, a vibration at the edge of my hearing. My skin prickled, and when I glanced over my shoulder, I swore I saw movement at the far end of the gym. A shape. Watching. Waiting.
I tightened my grip on the knife. My hands were trembling, not just from fear, but from something else I couldn't name.
Then, right behind my ear, I heard it again.
That same voice. Low. Mocking. Close enough to feel its breath.
"So, you finally found it."
I spun around, knife raised, but no one was there. The bags, the tables, the peeling posters from the festival… all still, all normal. Too normal.
My pulse hammered. The voice laughed softly, almost pleased.
"You already know what comes next. You've always known. You can't run from it."
The air grew heavier, thick like smoke pressing into my lungs. I could feel it—the same dread I'd felt in those visions of corpses, the smell of blood that wasn't there but clung to me anyway. My grip on the knife tightened until my knuckles went white.
This time… this time I wasn't going to let it happen.
I whispered through clenched teeth, more to myself than to the voice, "I'll end this tonight… no matter what."
The voice chuckled again, it didn't vanish completely. It lingered, leaving behind a trace of something that clung to the air like rot. A presence. Cold. Watching. Hungry.
And then I looked down at the knife again.
It wasn't just a knife anymore.
Its blade pulsed faintly, as though something inside it was alive, something waiting. And for the briefest second, I saw my own reflection in the steel—but my eyes weren't looking like mine, they looked like that of a dead person.
The sound of footsteps echoed behind me.
Slow. Deliberate. Getting closer.
I didn't dare turn around.
–S. Yusuf