Rick had two younger siblings. Lilly and Soren. Fraternal twins, both ten years old. Despite the six-year age gap, he got along with them well. They adored him, thought he was the coolest big brother in the world. He knew everything—at least, to them he did. He had a job, sometimes bought them small gifts, and occasionally let them stay up late when their parents weren't home.

About a year ago, when Rick’s story was fifty chapters deep, he left his room to hang out with friends. When he returned, he found Soren sitting at his laptop, reading Celestial Night of the Umbra Flower. Rick was furious, mostly with himself for not locking his device—Celestial Night had themes far too mature for his little brother. But then, Soren innocently suggested, “Why don’t you kill King Ten in Chapter 98 during the second marebeast wave? If you kill him in Chapter 57 like you planned…” He pointed at Rick’s notebook, where the outline of the major story arcs was scribbled, “it’ll cheapen his death.”

Rick stared at his little brother bemusedly.

Soren continued, “I really like your story, but some of your characters seem a bit... serial killerish. Give them more redeeming qualities. Like Hswara—she’s cool, but all she does is pick fights and think about murder. It was funny at first, but then it got weird. Also, Yadza is really, really unlikeable. You should kill him off. Not because he’s a villain, but because he’s not well-written. Hope that doesn’t sound mean. Anyway, Hswara deserves a redemption arc. Give her a touching backstory—something emotional that explains why she is the way she is. Then later, have her face a situation that makes her rethink everything. Does she really want to keep living like this—always courting death, always looking for trouble? How many friends has she lost because of her recklessness? How many more will she lose? Make it super introspective, but don’t make her change immediate. Let it cook, simmer. Make it so gradual, your readers almost don't notice she's changed. When they reread your story, they'll think you knew what you were doing with her all along—probably call you a genius." Soren chuckled and hopped off the chair, tossing out a final comment as he left Rick’s room. “By the way, change your laptop’s password. I guessed it in, like, ten seconds.”

Rick sat in silence for nearly a minute after his little brother left. Was this the same kid who got excited over lemon-flavored lollipops?

He initially wrote off Soren's critique as a ten-year-old’s attempt to sound smart. But later, when he reread his chapters, he realized his brother was right. From the lack of impact in King Ten’s planned death to the poor characterization of Yadza, and even the untapped potential for Hswara’s redemption arc—Soren had nailed it.

That was how his little brother became 'Plot Editor in Chief' of his story, a title the adorable midget chose for himself. He was the only person who knew about Celestial Night, and Rick made him promise to keep it a secret from their parents and Lilly. From then on, Rick would make a censored version of each chapter for Soren to review. If Soren approved, Rick would post the uncensored version online.

He hadn't gotten the chance to run the latest chapter by Soren before uploading it today, but he wasn’t worried. They had revised the story’s outline together, improving the plot, pacing, and character development. Knowing the overall direction, Rick felt confident enough to post without Soren’s feedback this time.

Outside, some parents waved at the bus. Rick noticed a few classmates waving back as he grabbed his backpack and joined the line of students waiting to hop off. Being at the back, he and Brad were among the last in line. From the corner of his eye, Rick spotted movement and turned to see Lilly, waving enthusiastically, her face lighting up with a wide grin. His mom saw him too, smiling warmly. Rick waved back.

A shout pierced the bus’s low chatter. “Cyclone!” someone near the front cried.

The bus erupted into murmurs of alarm. Rick craned his neck, trying to see what was causing the commotion, but the heads in front blocked his view. He shifted toward the side window, squinting up at the sky. The clouds were twisting, dark and furious, as if wrung by an invisible hand. Lightning crackled through them, turning the evening sky into a chaotic flicker of light and shadow. Rain seemed imminent.

“When she said she got that wet-wet, this ain’t what I had in mind,” someone quipped, setting off muffled laughter among the boys.

Ms. Thompson, one of the chaperoning teachers, shot a glare at the offender. “Will, one more inappropriate word and you’ll be in detention all week,” she warned.

Will muttered something under his breath, but Ms. Thompson's focus was now on the window. Outside, the twisting clouds stilled, then began to untwist. As it unwound, something unfurled—a vast, sprawling canopy of colors, not unlike a jellyfish, but impossibly large. Its tendrils hung down, shimmering and translucent, weaving and swaying. They reached toward the earth like fingers feeling for something, brushing treetops and roofs, sparking small arcs of light where they touched.

“What is that?” someone whispered, their voice tinged with unease.

“I seen some shit like this when I did LS—”

“Will!” snapped Ms. Thompson again. She leaned closer to the window, squinting. “I think it's just atmospheric disturbance…some rare cloud formation, maybe. Nothing to worry about. Stay calm.”

But Rick’s mouth went dry. The tendrils seemed to move with intention, curling and uncurling, reaching and retracting. The sky around it pulsed, thumping like a heartbeat. A sound, deep and resonant—a hum—filled the air. The ground shook as if struck by something. The bus jolted violently. Rick felt the vibrations run through his bones.

Outside, the world trembled like the surface of a drum. Parents staggered, grabbing onto whatever they could—tree trunks, fences, each other—to stay upright. Some dropped to all fours, holding on for dear life. Rick watched his mom stumble but regain balance, clutching Lilly to her side to keep her safe. The shaking slowly subsided, leaving a tense silence in its wake. Quiet settled over the bus, broken only by the students’ rapid, panicked breaths.

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“That was...an earthquake,” said someone, their voice steeped in disbelief.

“Is it finished?” another asked, tentatively.

“I need to get off the bus. I can’t—”

“We’ll be getting off soon. Just stay calm!” Ms. Thompson tried to reassure the students, but before she could finish, a deafening roar filled the air. It was like a lion’s growl, magnified a thousand times. The bus windows shattered in an instant, spraying glass shards everywhere. Students screamed and ducked as shards rained down. Rick threw himself to the floor, hands over his head as he felt the glass sting his skin.

“‘The hell’s going on?” Brad’s cried out beside Rick, his usual bravado gone.

“I don’t know,” Rick answered, his voice barely audible over the chaos. Slowly, he lifted his head, peering through the broken windows. His mom and Lilly were huddled together outside, fear plastered on their faces. Relief swept through him—at least they were okay.

“Dust storm!” someone shouted from the front of the bus.

Rick stood, his eyes scanning the horizon. A massive cloud of dust and debris loomed, barreling toward them like a tidal wave and growing larger by the second. Distant houses, cars, and street signs disappeared in a haze of grey.

Mr. Johnson, another teacher, paled as he barked, “Everybody, down! Get on the floor now!”

The students scrambled to obey, flattening themselves against the bus floor. The bus driver got out of his cabin and crouched low. Rick’s heart raced. He looked back through the shattered window, searching for his mom and Lilly. They were still outside, his mom gripping Lilly’s hand tightly, both staring at the approaching wall of dust. His mom’s face was ghostly white, fear etched into her features.

Rick’s chest tightened with panic. “Mom, get in!” he shouted through the window, his voice frantic. “Get in the bus, now!” He thrust his arm out the window, ready to pull her up into the bus.

Other students began shouting for their parents too, but the world outside was frozen. Parents, teachers, and students stood still on the sidewalk, their eyes locked on the dust cloud as if something within it held them captive. Rick’s mom faced the storm, but her pupils shifted toward her son. She was trembling, as though trying to fight something that kept her rooted in place. The other parents were the same, living statues in a macabre game of chicken with a force of nature.

“Mom, please!” Rick yelled, desperation clawing at his throat. It was then he saw something in his mother's eyes, a rare and terrible thing.

Fear.

Helplessness.

The same look she'd worn when Rick was six, after he'd fallen off his bike. He hadn't listened when she told him to wear his helmet. He’d hit the pavement hard, cracking his head. Rick didn’t remember much of the incident—not the part where he was shaking on the ground and frothing at the mouth. He had lost consciousness. But he had seen the photos later. The ones of his mom beside his hospital bed, eyes red and hollow as she watched over him. The look of self-reproach, helplessness, and fear hidden behind a hope-laden smile.

It was the same look she wore now, minus the hope.

Rick’s heart pounded, each beat like a hammer inside his chest. His stomach twisted painfully. "Mom!" He strained his arms out the shattered window, as if stretching just a little further could somehow pull her and Lilly inside, safe. He scrambled, climbing halfway through the jagged frame, a sharp edge tearing into his thigh, but he barely noticed the pain. All that mattered was getting to them.

He was almost out when something yanked him back, pulling him hard onto the seat.

"What the—" Rick twisted, furious, and found Brad glaring at him, his face twisted in anger. "Are you out of your mind?" Brad hissed, his voice low but furious. "You tryna get yourself killed?"

"Let me go!" Rick screamed, shoving Brad away. He turned back toward the window, determined to get out. He had to save them. He had to—

And then it happened.

A blur of motion shot past the parents outside. It moved so fast that Rick almost didn’t catch it—a streak of something dark, like a shadow slicing through the air. For a split second, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Then everything stopped.

His mom stood there, arms wrapped around Lilly, shielding her. But something was wrong. His brain struggled to process it. Her body—her upper half—was just gone. Nothing remained but her waist and legs, spurting blood like a fountain of flesh. Lilly’s head and shoulders were missing, too. What was left of her small body crumpled to the ground in a growing pool of blood.

Rick stared in stunned silence, his breath catching in his throat. His mind refused to comprehend what he was seeing. It couldn’t be real.

He laughed.

Had to be fake.

He laughed again, a mirthless sound.

Totally fake.

His third attempt to laugh dissolved into a whimper. Everything slowed down around him, the screams and cries of the other students fading into the background. His breath caught, his chest tightening as if a vise had clamped down on his heart.

Blood continued to spray from what was left of his mom and sister, painting the grass in gruesome reds. The ground beneath them was soaked, the warm summer air now filled with a coppery scent. A scream built in Rick's throat, but it wouldn’t come out. His vision blurred as tears filled his eyes, distorting the gruesome scene before him. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.

How could this be happening? How could they be gone in an instant?

His legs buckled and he dropped onto the seat. His face twisted in agony, the tears spilling over, choked sobs wracking his body.

The world had become a nightmare, one he couldn’t wake up from.