The radio crackles for a few moments before the broadcaster's voice cuts through the static. "Greetings residents, it's that time of year again. New Year's Eve. As always, the blood moon rises again, casting its crimson hue across our skies. Citizens are once again advised on staying awake until the moonset. Sleep during this period can land those chosen into the Lunar Plane, the dangerous dwelling of dreamers where untold horrors await. Stay awake, and stay alert. Good luck out there"
Silence fills the car as the broadcast returns to playing its normal heavy metal music.
In the backseat, 16 year old Ryven glances out the window, watching the fireworks light up the bloody night sky.
In the front seat, his father's pale and calloused hands grip onto the steering wheel, while his mother turns up the volume dial.
"If you're going to play loud music, can you at least play good music?" Ryven's older sister, Sylven complained.
Their mother turns, sending her a sharp look.
"It doesn't have to sound good, it just has to keep us awake." She says tiredly.
The city streets were alive with chaos. More fireworks erupting in the distance, cracking like gunfire. People hurried along the sidewalks, coffee cups in hand, their movements jittery and panicked, no doubt refusing to sleep for fear of being dragged into the Lunar Plane. Ryven watched them, curiosity flickering in his chest, a mixture of both thrill and unease.
"Do we know anyone who's ever been pulled into the Lunar Plane?" Ryven asks, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.l
Sylven's eyes darken, her knuckles tightening on the edge of the seat. "Our distant cousin Kaleb, Aunt Elowen's boy. He was barely ten when it happened. Fell asleep right in front of me during New Year's Eve, and he never woke up again. They said he was unable to survive the first Lunar phase." She said rather calmly.
Ryven swallowed hard, a chill crawling up his spine. The fireworks outside suddenly seemed louder, sharper, as if mocking his unease.
Ryven's thoughts lingered on Kaleb for a few moments before a sudden loud honk pierced the air. His father's grip on the wheel tightened as he spun it.
"Wha-" Ryven started, his words getting cut off by the glare of blinding headlights rushing toward them from a side street.
"Shit!" His father curses, trying to step on the gas.
It was too late.
Tires screeched against the asphalt, and the world spun. Sparks of light from fireworks out the window merged with the flashes of street lamps. The sensation of weightlessness and flight took over for a moment, slamming him sideways as the cars collided.
The crunch of colliding metal and shattering glass filling his ears. His body flings across the seat, slamming against the roof. Pain is quick to take effect, rippling throughout his body.
The screams of his family seem to blur together, echoing like a broken record in his mind. And with another jarring impact, he is sent tumbling into the darkness.
…
Slowly opening his eyes, it was obvious that something was wrong.
The sound of city life, the passing cars, the occasional honk, and even the screams of people were all gone. It was just… quiet.
'W-what?'
Sitting up, I take a look around.
Darkness. That's all I could see. Just plain darkness. Even below him, he could see nothing
"H-hello?!" He calls out, seemingly expecting an answer. Nothing responds.
But it was strange, his shout seemed… almost muffled. Thinking about it now, he could feel his heart beating faster and faster, yet he couldn't exactly hear it. Taking a step, he could no doubt feel the feeling of grass beneath his feet, yet when he crouched down to touch it, he felt a smooth surface.
It was all so… warped.
"What's going on?" He asked out loud, only to be ignored once again.
He takes another step, then another, then another.
"What am I supposed to do?"
'Am I dead?' He wondered, memories of the crash filling his mind.
"Ain't this a bit too depressing, even for death" he asks out loud.
Sigh.
Ryven walked around for what felt like hours. That's all he could do. He had no phone, no items, no sense of time, nor a sense of direction. Every step seemed to carry him more and more into nothingness.
There was no horizon. There was no up, nor down. Just endless darkness pressing in on every side.
He felt like he was breathing heavily, yet every time he took a second to pause, he swore he couldn't even hear himself inhale.
"What the hell is going on?" He cried.
Was he actually dead? Is this what death was like, just endless wandering?
Yet even in that moment, he spotted something.
A pinprick of light seemed to appear out of nowhere in the distance.
He froze for a moment, blinking hard, reassuring himself that he was not just seeing things. But no, nothing changed. The light was still there. A pale glow, like the weak halo of an old street lamp.
Relief begins to flicker in his chest, fragile but real.
"Perhaps there is something more to death than just endless wandering in the dark." He muttered, breaking out into a shaky jog, feet slapping against the unseen ground.
The closer he got, the more the void began to bend. Shapes bled into being beneath the glow: the cracked line of asphalt, a gutter yawning into darkness, the faint outlines of sidewalks curling out in both directions.
With every step forward, another lamp buzzed to life, one after another, pulling more of the street from nothingness.
And then he stopped.
His throat tightened as his eyes locked on the shape at the end of the block.
"Is that… my house?"
He spun, eyes darting wildly now. It wasn't just the house.
The street. The mailboxes. The sagging tree branches. Every detail was right where it should be.
"This is my street!" His voice cracked into a scream. "What the fuck is going on?!"