The taxi rattled through the rain-slicked streets. Rain drummed against it's roof, a steady rhythm that blurred the neon lights outside into streaks of color. Nyx Marsh slumped in the backseat, exhaustion weighing his eyelids down.
Another late night at the office. Another silent ride home.
His red tie was loose, his short black hair slightly damp from the sprint to the cab. One thing in his mind, 'I wanna sleep on my fluffy bed.'
The cab driver, a wiry man with a thick, rolling accent, chattered away, his voice warm despite the gloom.
"Ah, my little girl, she's turning six next week! Drawin' me pictures every day, she is. Says I gotta put 'em all up in the cab. Look!"
He gestured to a crude but cheerful drawing taped to the dashboard, a stick-figure family under a lopsided sun. A unicorn behind them. And yeah, Nyx thought, it's always unicorn for little girl.
He managed a tired smile. "Yeah. Cute."
The driver chuckled. "Aye, she's my sunshine. Even on nights like this, thinkin' of her keeps the dark away, y'know?"
Nyx didn't answer and it didn't stop the man's chatter. His gaze drifted to the window, where raindrops slithered like silver snakes down the glass.
Then...
Tick.
A sound like a clock's hand snapping into place echoed through the cab. Not from the radio. Not from the digital clock on the dashboard.
Nyx frowned. "Did you hear—"
Tock.
The world twisted.
The cab's interior groaned. Leather seats cracked like dry skin. The lamp's light darkened, the vibrant colors leaching away into muted grays and sickly brick red. The cheerful drawing on the dashboard… changed. The stick figures now unrecognized, no longer human-like, their smiles too wide, too many limbs.
The rain outside slowed then stopped midair, droplets hanging like frozen glass. The hum of the cab engine turned into silence.
The driver was still talking, but his voice had changed and warped.
"—ain't she the cutest?"
Nyx's breath caught.
The man's face, his kind, weathered features were morphing. Skin sagging like melted candle, his smile stretching too wide vertically, too many sharp teeth. His eyes hollowed into black pits, yet his voice remained cheerful, looping like a broken record.
"Ain't she the cutest? Ain't she the cutest? Ain't she th—"
The cab door creaked open on its own.
Outside, the city was gone.
In its place stretched a labyrinth of crumbling buildings, streets breaking and folding in on themselves like horrible piece of art. All in all, everything turned into picture of hell
And somewhere in the distance, something laughed.
Nyx's hands trembled.
This wasn't his world anymore.
He didn't think, he moved.
Nyx's body acted before his mind could process the horror in front of him. He ran out of cab and stumbled onto the cracked asphalt, his shoes splashing in stagnant puddles. Behind him, the driver's voice keeps droned on, slurring into a wet, guttural chant.
"Ain't she the cutest? Ain't she th—"
Nyx didn't look back. He ran into the unknown city covered in fog.
As he moved deeper, the white fog bitting his skin, clinging to him like cobwebs. The streets he knew, the familiar neon signs, the traffic lights, were gone. Instead, skeletal buildings leaned against each other, their windows shattered, their walls covered in peeling posters of faces he didn't recognize. The puddles on the wet street reflecting a eerie night sky.
A white bright moon with a red eye-like spot in the middle. It's up there, in the clouded dark sky, as if looking at him intently but also silently.
His breath came in sharp, panicked gasps. This isn't happening. This isn't real. But the cold bite of the air, the way his heartbeat hammered against his ribs, it was all too real.
Fumbling in his pocket, he yanked out his smartphone. His fingers shook as he dialed 911.
No signal.
The screen flickered. Static hissed from the speaker. Then...
"Wrong number, wrong world, wrong, wrong, WROOOONG..."
A voice that wasn't a voice. A chorus of overlapping whispers, laughs, and screams. The screen filled with gibberish, letters twisting, numbers melting into symbols that hurt his eyes. Nyx nearly dropped the phone.
Seeing that anomaly, he knows, no help was coming.
A sound echoed from the alleyway on his right, a slow, wet tapping noise. Like something or someone walking on sticks across concrete. It's not loud or anything, but somehow it bring fear to him.
Then a mischief whisper of a woman caress his ear.
"You shouldn't be here."
Nyx's blood turned to ice. Moving his head around, he found not a shadow of other people. He was alone on the middle of that dark street.
His face paler than before.
"Wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP—"
Nyx's fingers dug into his own arms, nails biting skin as he pinched his thigh, slapped his cheeks, anything to shatter this nightmare. But the pain was sharp. Real.
This nightmare didn't fade, the Night Realm didn't fade.
The tapping sound grew louder.
Tack. Thuk. Tack.
Metal rods knocking against pavement.
Nyx's head snapped toward the alley.
It was there.
A figure, skinny and disformed, lurched into view. Its limbs were a grotesque patchwork of red flesh and rusted gray puppet joints, the left arm ending in a jagged, cleaver-like blade. Its face was smooth. Blank. No eyes. No mouth. Just... nothing.
Yet Nyx felt it staring at him.
A wet, gurgling noise bubbled from where its throat should be. Moments later...
"Run," it said.
Nyx didn't need to be told twice.
He bolted, shoes slapping against the cracked streets as the monstrosity gave chase. Its movements were wrong. Jerky, unnatural, like a broken marionette controlled by invisible strings. But it was fast and quite agile too.
Tack. Thuk. Tack.
The sound chased him, closer with every second.
Nyx whipped around a corner of street and skidded to a halt.
The street ahead was gone. In its place stretched a hallway, one he recognized. His old elementary school's corridor, but warped. The lockers were rusted shut, their surfaces scratched with frantic, childlike writing. "Don't let them see you cry." "It's watching." "Beware, it's always right beside you."
Behind him, the monstrosity's blade dragged against the asphalt.
"I see you," it crooned, voice like nails on a chalkboard. "The tag... won't last forever."
Looking back, he saw the terrible monster. "Shit!"
Nyx ran again.
The hallway stretched impossibly long, the exit always just out of reach, the doors on each side is locked. There's no shelters he can use, so he keeps going.
His lungs burned, his legs ached, but the tack-thuk-tack of the monstrosity's blade never faded. If anything, it was getting closer.
This isn't working.
Panic clawed at his throat. He couldn't outrun this thing forever. Sooner or later, it would catch him, and that cleaver-arm wasn't just for show. One powerful swing and his limbs or worse, his neck, will part away from his body. Something he desire not.
His eyes darted wildly, scanning for anything he could use.
Then he saw it.
A broken folding chair, half-crushed and leaning against the lockers. One of its metal legs was snapped off, leaving a jagged, splintered end.
A weapon.
Nyx didn't stop. He snatched the chair leg mid-stride, his fingers tightening around the cold metal. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
Behind him, the monstrosity let out a wet, rattling laugh. "Playing knight?!"
Nyx gritted his teeth.
Yeah. And I'll use them.
Nyx kept running, but now his eyes weren't just searching for exit, they were hunting for opportunity. The monstrosity's jerky, puppet-like movements gave it speed, but maybe not precision. If he could use that...
A flickering fluorescent light ahead caught his attention. One of the ceiling panels hung loose, its edges sharp where the metal had torn. Nyx forced his exhausted legs to move faster, putting distance between himself and the stalking horror.
As he passed beneath the dangling panel, he swung the chair leg upward with all his strength.
CRASH!
The metal connected, sending the broken light fixture swinging violently. Nyx didn't stop to look back. He dove forward just as he heard the sickening thunk of metal meeting flesh.
A screech, inhuman and furious, echoed through the hallway. Glancing over his shoulder, Nyx saw the monstrosity staggering, its blank face now slashed open by the falling debris, black blood oozing from the wound.