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Hannah glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Four hours. The further they drove, the more her initial excitement faded into a gnawing sense of uncertainty.
“Didn’t you say it was nearby?” she asked, her voice betraying a hint of worry, cut through the thick silence, her concern creeping into the edges of her words.
Earlier that day, after receiving the strange camping items and ticket boxes from DawnFall Campsite, both Hannah and Frank had hesitated. The place had no information about it ever existed nor planned to be built or run in public, and the address felt sketchy. But something—curiosity or foolishness—pushed them forward. They packed, loaded the car, and set off, aiming for what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation.
Frank fumbled with the ticket, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “Be patient, sweetie. We’re almost there… I think,” he said, glancing uneasily at the GPS as if waiting for it to correct itself.
The car fell into silence again, an uneasy quiet that had clung to them ever since they left the city. The road stretched endlessly before them, devoid of any signs of life. No passing cars. No people. Just an empty highway bordered by thick, towering trees. Even the GPS seemed unsure, recalculating their route every few minutes.
The road wound through towering pines that seemed to close in the further they drove. The sky, once a clear blue, had turned into a muted Grey, casting shadows over the empty, winding path ahead. The silence inside the car grew heavier, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves outside—the irony of having a vacation filled with doubts and fear of the unknown ahead.
“I know we might’ve been scammed…” Frank’s voice cracked a little as he spoke, breaking the tension. He forced a smile, gesturing to the view outside. “But at least we’re getting some decent scenery, right?”
Starting at 8 am the next day, the couple’s journey has a great start. Going from the capital of Canada, Quebec, the car of destiny goes across many remarkable tourist accommodations but all of them are surprisingly empty, driving along the river and going through a giant jungle.
Hannah glanced out the window, her eyes tracing the line of trees disappearing into the horizon. The river glimmered in the distance, and the vast expanse of jungle on the other side swallowed everything else. She managed a small laugh, though it felt hollow.
“I guess you could say we got a small decent trip at least.” Hannah tried to focus on the scenery—the way the river shimmered under the afternoon sun or how the mountains loomed in the distance—but a tight knot had settled in her stomach. The scenery felt less like an escape and more like a veil hiding whatever was waiting for them.
Frank sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of doubt. His eyes flicked between the road and the mirrors, scanning for any sign of life. But there was none. No other vehicles, no distant towns. Just them. It was as if the world had been left behind, and only they remained.
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14:00 - 2 pm
PUFF
The car door slammed shut harder than Frank intended. He winced, glancing back at the car where Hannah lay asleep. She didn’t stir, her deep breaths undisturbed even by the noise.
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“Sleepyhead,” Frank muttered under his breath with a half-smile.
They had finally arrived at a village after hours of driving. The GPS had died the moment they left the main road, and the dirt path they’d followed had led them here—an outdated, forgotten village surrounded by an endless stretch of trees. The silence was unnerving. Not even the distant hum of insects could be heard.
Frank scanned the village from where he stood, the air thick with an unsettling stillness. The buildings looked ancient, frozen in time, with roofs sagging and windows boarded up. He spotted a small gas station on the far side of the village. An old pump stood in front of it, rusted and worn with age.
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With a deep breath, Frank walked over to the gas pump, his footsteps the only sound breaking the quiet. He ran his fingers over the dusty metal and hesitated. Would this even work? He closed his eyes for a second, hoping for some luck.
When he pulled the lever, a mechanical groan echoed, and to his surprise, the pump sputtered to life. “Hah,” he whispered in disbelief. Still cautious, he hurried around the village, searching for something—anything—to carry the gas in.
He tried to move around smoothly, avoiding making too much noise since he didn’t want to attract wild animals.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the village in a soft orange glow, Frank’s frustration grew. He needed a container, but the few places he’d checked were either empty or locked tight. Desperate, he approached the largest house in the village, likely the village chief’s house, he figured. The building looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades.
Frank paused at the front door, his hand hovering over the handle. Why does this feel so wrong? he thought. Still, he forced himself to open the creaking door.
“Anyone home?” Frank yelled…, No reply was received. Forming a fist of courage, Frank slowly walked into the house. Inside, the house was in shambles. Broken chairs littered the floor, and in the middle of the room, tables hung from the ceiling, suspended by thick, black ropes that seemed too new for a place this decayed.
“Hello?” Frank’s voice cracked, the sound echoing through the empty house.
Yet again, no reply.
The silence pressed in on him. Something wasn’t right. The air felt heavy and oppressive. Without warning, the tables began to sway, and then one by one, they crashed to the floor with a deafening clatter. Panic surged through Frank as he bolted for the door, barely making it outside before the entire house collapsed behind him in a roar of cracking wood and dust.
“Fuck!” Frank shouted, stumbling onto the dirt. He lay there for a moment, breathing hard, his heart hammering in his chest. The dust settled around him as he pulled himself up, glaring at the ruins. “Great. Just fucking great.”
Shaking his head, he trudged back to the car. Hannah was still asleep, oblivious to the chaos that had just unfolded. Frank sighed, leaning against the door. He opened the window and stuck his head out, staring at the horizon as the sun set behind the trees. The lights of sunset shining upon the couple’s car, give a very gloomy and fantastical feeling. Frank closed his eyes, feeling the nature around him, winds flowing softly as if they wanted to bring him somewhere, the lights of sunset shining brightly into his closed eyes.
The golden light bathed the landscape in an almost magical glow, though there was something deeply unsettling about it.
He closed his eyes, letting the breeze brush against his face. What is this place? It felt familiar in a way that made his skin crawl, like an old memory he couldn’t quite grasp. The trees swayed in the wind, whispering, beckoning.
Reluctantly, Frank turned back toward the car and Hannah. Her quiet snores filled the silence, a small comfort in this strange place.
As he settled into the driver’s seat and closed the windows, a sudden rustling sound caught his attention. Newspapers, carried by the wind, smacked against the windshield. Annoyed, Frank reached out and grabbed the crumpled pages, intending to toss them aside.
But when his eyes fell on the headline, his blood ran cold.
The newspaper’s headline was titled: “You’re close to DawnFall. We are waiting!”
His gaze shifted down to the photograph beneath the words, and his heart nearly stopped. The image showed the exact view he had just been looking at—the horizon from where their car was parked.
Frank stumbled out of the car, clutching the newspaper, and rushed to the cliff’s edge. He held the paper up, comparing it to the horizon before him. The two were identical.
And just then, as the last light of the sun kissed the earth, he whispered to himself,
“Sunset… Dawn. Fall.”
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