Brimstone City, 3rd and Main Street, 5:48 PM.
Leaving the quiet park behind, the protagonist walked through the city streets as dusk settled in. The fading sunlight cast long, soft shadows, and the city was alive with its usual evening rush. People moved in every direction, cars honked as they navigated the busy streets, and the ambient hum of the city filled the air.
He reached the crosswalk, waiting for the signal to change. The orange glow of the sunset mingled with the flashing lights of storefronts, painting the world in a mix of fading warmth and neon. The crowd around him ebbed and flowed, their faces a blur as they passed by, caught in their own routines.
Then, without warning, reality began to shift.
At first, it was barely perceptible, just a slight warping at the edge of his vision. The air seemed to thicken, and the noises of the city dimmed, as though being absorbed by an invisible force. The street itself twisted in subtle waves, bending and curling in a way that defied logic.
And then, in the middle of the crosswalk—it appeared.
A figure, its form unlike anything he had ever seen. It stood several meters away, its body composed of a swirling, cosmic mist-dark and endless, with faint traces of stars and nebulas flickering within. Its eyes were glowing pools of purple, misty and bright, staring directly into his own.
He couldn't look away. His body froze, locked in place by the figure's presence. His breath caught in his throat, and a cold sweat formed on his brow. Everything around him-cars, people, buildings-blurred into misty outlines, as if the world had faded away, leaving only him and this thing.
The figure didn't move, but its mere existence warped the space around it. The street bent toward it, the light bent toward it—everything seemed to be pulled into the gravity of its presence. Its hand reached out, not in a threatening gesture, but as though trying to make contact, to touch him.
His heart pounded in his chest, the air growing colder with each passing second. He could feel the weight of the figure's gaze pressing down on him, a silent force that made it impossible to move, to react.
He didn't blink. He couldn't. His eyes stayed locked on the figure, his mind racing in silent panic, struggling to comprehend what he was witnessing.
"What is this?"
The question formed, but he couldn't voice it. The pressure mounted, his limbs trembled, but still, he couldn't tear his gaze away.
It was just him and the entity.
Seconds stretched into an eternity as the figure remained, its presence incomprehensible, its eyes never wavering from his. The space between them pulsed, twisted, bent in a way that made no sense, as if the very fabric of reality was crumbling.
And then, with a single blink—everything snapped back to normal.
The cars honked, the people moved, and the city roared back to life. The figure was gone, and the world was just as it had been before.
He stood there, paralyzed for a moment longer, his body drenched in cold sweat, his heart still pounding in his chest. His legs trembled, barely holding him upright. His breathing was shallow, ragged, as if he had just come up for air after nearly drowning.
The crosswalk light had changed, and people brushed past him as if nothing had happened. The world moved on, but he remained frozen in place, trying to make sense of what he had just seen.
His mind buzzed with questions, but his body was already moving—his feet carrying him away from the crosswalk, faster than before. He didn't look back. He didn't want to.
Whatever that was, it was over.
But the lingering tension stayed with him, clinging to him as he hurried back toward his apartment, desperate to escape the place where reality had twisted in ways he couldn't understand.
Collins Avenue, 6:05 PM.
The door to his apartment building came into view, and without hesitation, the protagonist hurried inside. His footsteps echoed faintly in the lobby as he quickly walked past the receptionist, barely acknowledging her. His pace quickened, driven by a mix of adrenaline and the unsettling confusion gnawing at his mind.
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His hand reached the elevator button with force, almost pressing it too hard. He stood there, anxious, his heart still pounding from the encounter outside. The elevator dinged open, revealing a person already stepping out. Not thinking, he hastily brushed past them, his shoulder slightly bumping the stranger aside. A surprised gasp escaped the person, but the protagonist barely registered it.
He stepped into the elevator and immediately pressed the button to his floor, the doors closing as he struggled to regain control of his breath. The walls of the elevator seemed to close in around him, a small, confined space that made the feeling of dread settle deeper into his chest. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, trying to stop the trembling.
His mind raced with fragments of the encounter—those purple, misty eyes, the figure, the distortion of reality. His breathing was uneven, shallow, his heart racing. He closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to calm down, to stop the cold sweat that still clung to his skin. He inhaled deeply, focusing on each breath, trying to find a rhythm that would slow his pulse. The elevator hummed softly, the light overhead flickering slightly, but he ignored it.
Finally, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal his floor. Without wasting a second, he rushed out and headed toward his apartment. His legs moved on their own, as if the only thing keeping him together was the thought of being behind his locked door.
Reaching his door, his hands fumbled for the keys, shaking as he tried to fit them into the lock. In his panic, the keys slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the floor. He cursed under his breath, snatching them back up, and after another few seconds of frantic twisting, the door finally clicked open. He stepped inside and slammed it shut behind him, the noise echoing through his small apartment.
For a moment, he just stood there, his back pressed against the door, his breathing ragged, his thoughts racing. His tablet slipped from his hand, hitting the floor with a dull thud, but he didn't care. His feet moved again, taking him to the small kitchen, where he grabbed a glass and hastily filled it with water from the sink. He brought the glass to his lips, his hand trembling slightly as he gulped it down in one long, desperate drink.
The cold water flowed down his throat, bringing a momentary sense of clarity. He placed the glass on the counter, staring down into the sink. His reflection stared back at him from the polished metal, pale and tired, beads of sweat still clinging to his forehead.
"What was that?"
His mind echoed the question, but there was no answer, only the lingering fear and confusion. He splashed cold water onto his face, hoping to wash away the tension. The shock from earlier began to fade, leaving only an unsettling weight on his chest. He needed answers, something concrete to explain what he had just witnessed.
Walking over to his desk, he sat down and powered on his computer. His fingers still trembled slightly as he opened his digital journal, his heart still racing as he began typing furiously, recounting every detail he could remember.
"July 18th, 6:35 PM.
I was walking home from the park, waiting at the crosswalk on the corner of 3rd and Main. The sun was setting, and the streets were busy with people and cars. Everything felt normal until it... wasn't.
There was a distortion, like reality had bent around me. The people and cars turned into mist, and there, in the middle of the crosswalk, a figure appeared. It was like nothing I've ever seen. Its body—if you could call it that—was made of cosmic space, swirling like a dark nebula, and its eyes... purple, glowing, misty.
It didn't move. But it was there, reaching out toward me, its hand stretched in my direction. It felt... wrong. Like it wasn't supposed to be there, like it was trying to break through something.
I couldn't look away. I didn't blink the entire time, even though my body was screaming at me to run. I just stood there, staring at it. Then, in an instant, everything snapped back. The people, the cars, the noise of the city. The figure was gone, like it was never there.
But I know what I saw."
As he typed, his hands began to steady. Writing it down helped, though the weight of what he had seen still pressed heavily on him. When he finished, he stared at the screen for a long moment, re-reading his own words.
It didn't feel real, but it was real. He'd never been prone to hallucinations, never had a reason to doubt his perception. But what he saw out there wasn't logical. It wasn't explainable. At least, not by normal means.
After finishing his journal entry, he turned toward his bookshelf, grabbing a few volumes that dealt with strange phenomena, cosmic theories, and ancient myths. He thumbed through them quickly, scanning page after page, but nothing he read matched what he had seen.
Frustration began to creep in. There had to be something.
With no other options, he turned to the internet. He typed in vague descriptions of what he had seen, hoping some obscure corner of the web held an answer. Forums, blogs, articles—he scrolled through them all. Stories about hallucinations, cosmic entities, reality distortions-they were all there, but none of them seemed to capture the exact experience he had gone through.
One article caught his eye: a small forum post discussing strange sightings of misty figures in crowded places, but even then, the details were vague, and unreliable. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. Nothing made sense. Nothing explained it.
After a long moment of staring at his screen, he rubbed his face, his mind still spinning but his body feeling the exhaustion settling in. He glanced at the clock. It was late—later than he realized.
With a final sigh, he shut down his computer. The day had been strange, unsettling, and he wasn't sure how to make sense of any of it yet. Maybe after some sleep, things would become clearer, or at least, the weight on his chest would lessen.
He moved toward his bed, the events of the day still heavy in his mind as he lay down, the strange figure with the purple eyes lurking in the corners of his thoughts.