A beam of light shoots up into the sky. When it reaches the top of that starless dark fabric, it bursts into sparks. Other lights soon follow, rising into the heights and creating a true spectacle.
On rooftops, beaches, balconies, streets, avenues, windows—everywhere possible to catch a glimpse of the outside—people gather to witness the show of lights. Blue, red, orange, yellow, purple, pink (that one in particular carrying a strange chill down the spine), green, and silver. The colors take the place of the stars in the sky, and the rite ends with congratulations exchanged among the crowd. A single rotation for the world, and a moment of vulnerability for its inhabitants. A moment to allow oneself to feel—or to be forced into pretending to feel?
Be that as it may, not everyone admires those lights. To move on to what matters, one must look inside a dark room. Lit only by a dim lamp and cluttered with trash. Empty snack bags and soda bottles, along with a shoebox crammed with candy wrappers. On the bed, near the center of the room, a figure remains silent beneath the covers. He sighs at length, appearing to have ended his private party.
"What a damned racket," they mutter to themselves before putting on headphones and diving into the rain to escape the fireworks. A crunchy chocolate bar is brought to the mouth, bitten, and clutched in a fetal position, chewing while letting only the sound remain in their mind.
Their body grows lighter, while the rain grows heavier. The covers seem farther and farther away, as does the noise. Closing their hand against the sheet, they no longer feel the fabric. It is as if they are sinking into a dark field where only shadows exist, along with the timid sound of a drizzle. Opening their eyes, they no longer find the place they were.
Their face rests against the grass, and before them lie nothing but tree trunks and fallen leaves—all of them tinged with shades of violet.
The girl rises from the purplish ground and feels her hair fall across her face. Brushing the strands aside with her fingers, she realizes they've changed color—a softer shade of violet now. On her hands are fingerless gloves, like those of a biker. Even her clothes seem different: plain jeans, a black jacket, and brown boots.
"What's happening?" she looks around, rubbing her eyes. "Did I die… or just break out of the Matrix?". A thousand conspiracy theories race through her mind, but she manages to snap back quickly. "No, it's a forest. Don't lose it!" she answers herself, if that's even possible.
Shifting from her position, she sits up and notices a glow beside her: a kind of silver lantern. She grabs it by the handle and gets to her feet. The light only reaches so far, and beyond its glow lies nothing but pitch-black darkness.
She spins around with the lantern to scan her surroundings and sees only tree trunks.
"Hey! Anyone out there?" she yells into the void. No response. She glances at the lantern and the tall grass. "What if I start a fire?"
A golden owl lands on the branch above her head. With glowing white eyes, it looks almost like a piece of the Sun itself. Its radiance burns away her reckless thought, pulling her gaze entirely to the creature.
"Uh-hu." The owl hoots, then soars above the treetops.
"Hey, wait!" The girl chases after it, dodging roots and trunks as they emerge in her path. She reaches a hill and climbs it with ease, still in pursuit. Trees with orange-colored bark begin to appear, but she keeps her focus on the great owl. Suddenly, the climb becomes a slope downward. Her feet skid against the grass, nearly sending her tumbling. "Where are you taking me!?" she shouts.
The owl vanishes as it collides with another beam of light in the sky, and in a moment of surprise, the girl trips over a root—crashing into a boy who is also running. Both tumble and roll across the grass, flying out of the forest.
"Ow, ow," she groans in pain, clutching her head as she rolls on the ground. "Watch where you're going, you lunatic! You almost killed me." She pushes herself up angrily, eyeing his blue hair and red jacket. Instantly, she judges his fashion choices.
"Me? You're the one who ran into me!" he shoots back, getting to his feet as he brushes the dirt from his clothes.
"Ran into you? Ha!" she retorts with irony. "If I really wanted to run you over, you'd be done for." She turns away, heading toward the fallen lantern.
"Forget it." He sighs, then adds, "My name's Mateus. And yours?"
"I'm not gonna be your friend, weirdo!"
"Oh yeah? Then you can just go fu—"
She cuts off her attention from the annoyed boy, and as she picks up the tiny flame and raises it, golden flowers bloom across the grass, answering the light. One by one, they ignite, leading toward a brick road further ahead. Suddenly, walls of brick and wooden fences rise into view.
"Whoa." The boy reacts as hundreds of buildings emerge from the darkness. In this cluster of structures—houses, shops, shacks, and small buildings of two and three stories—their windows light up along the rising brick road. Far above, at the edge of the horizon near the heavens, a massive jack-o'-lantern glows, casting its light across the entire scene. It remains at the very top, like a lighthouse.
The girl looks around and sees more lights appearing among the trees. Human figures with brightly colored hair and clothes of every imaginable style step into view. Shining birds seem to guide them toward this place.
From behind them all, out of the forests, the birds gather at one of the entrances to this city: a small square facing the wide grin of the jack-o'-lantern and the road leading up to it. People walk toward the light, brushing past one another, interacting as they go.
"It's time to greet our new friends," says a blond boy sitting in a chair to a shadowed figure standing by the doorway that leads to the hall. He rises and heads to the wardrobe, where several white suits hang.
As he adjusts himself, the hidden figure—cloaked from head to toe, their long hair veiling their face—sits before the fireplace in the room. They stretch out hands pale as paper toward the flames, letting the fire reflect in the ring on their finger and in their pupils.
"You should talk to these strangers too—it might make you feel better." He fastens his tie while looking at the nameless figure, who doesn't reply. Shaking his head, he accepts the silence as an answer and walks toward the window. He opens it, and the wind snuffs out the fire. "Don't play with dangerous things. We don't have doctors around here."
When the figure turns toward him in anger, he simply topples backward, landing on the roof tiles and sliding down. From there, he leaps and begins sprinting across the rooftops, laughing gleefully.
Hundreds of people gather in the square, chatting with one another.
"Are we inside a game?" someone asks.
"This is the weirdest dream I've ever had," says another.
"If this is heaven, I must've prayed to the wrong god," a boy jokes.
"We must be in a nightmare," a girl mutters.
A faint voice echoes in her ear: What do you think is inside the pumpkin?
The girl is filled with doubts. With few options for friendship and uncomfortable in the crowd, she steps toward the road. A low wall separates the square from the rising path, and as she climbs, someone bumps into her, making her slip and fall. A hand appears before her.
"May I have the honor?" The blond boy in the white suit extends his hand and pulls her up. The two lock eyes, and in the silence he smiles. "Not yet." He runs, leaps onto a Victorian lamppost, and swings around, landing at the top. Looking over the crowd, he shouts to draw their attention before beginning.
"Hello, and welcome, everyone. Today is a special day, because today a sorrowful year comes to an end. It was hard, no doubt. That's why today is a day of celebration. But if you're here, it's because you chose not to celebrate. Locked away in your rooms, with no interest in going out. Your parents say, 'He's just sleeping, let him stay in his own world.' They say we're shut inside our little bubble. Well… today we are. And only we can enter.
I've opened a door so that all of you can walk these streets tonight. There will be games, points, fights, and other things here to entertain us. The only rule is this: let your dreams run free. And for safety, don't speak of who you really are. False names—that's how we'll begin. I'll call you as you wish… and you all… you can call me Hype."
He climbs down and stops before the girl. She replies, "My name is… Kayne."