Rain fell freely along the streets of Wellington. Night had settled in, and the streetlamps illuminated the surroundings, casting a peaceful ambience. Uneven footpaths held shallow puddles that rippled under the endless stream of water falling from the sky. One puddle in particular splashed, spraying water up the leg of a man walking. He didn't react—just continued on his way.
He wore a sleek black coat, a pair of boots, and straight-leg jeans to match. His hair, usually black, had recently been dyed white by his best friend at a party. Tucked in both ears were earbuds playing some of the latest global hits.
Riley wore a gentle smile as he walked. He liked the rain. It always seemed to match his mood. Not that he felt constantly depressed or sad—melancholy was a better word. Tonight, in particular, felt... off. With his friends moving away, the realisation had dawned that he was twenty-one and needed to move on too. The thought weighed on him, heavy, growing heavier day by day. Still, there was a part of him that was excited about the year ahead and what it might bring.
As he mused, his home came into view. By the time he reached the front door, his coat was drenched. He felt the dampness seeping in as he reached for the handle. Then, suddenly but subtly, something shifted. A ripple, like a disturbance in water, spread across the door where his hand touched it.
Riley stared at the ripple, confused, but brushed it off as a result of tiredness or blurred vision from the rain. Before he could turn the handle, the sharp sound of someone inhaling echoed down the street.
He turned to look. The streetlamps flickered. Some of them went out. The music in his ears had shifted to static at some point, but how had he heard anything over it?
Then came the sound of breathing out. It was raspy, old, and grating. It sent a chill down his spine, his hands beginning to shake. The static in his ears suddenly cut off.
And then, down the street under the flickering lights, he saw it.
A tall, lanky figure stood towering above the rooftops. Its skin clung to its bones, as if it had no muscle at all. Now and then, the lights revealed its pasty white body as it crept forward. Its long legs stepped toward Riley. It had no feet. Instead, its calf came to sharp points. Its head remained in shadow, featureless. No eyes. No mouth.
Its steps made no sound. Only its ragged breath filled the air.
Riley knew immediately—this thing was his problem. Without hesitation, he flung his door open and dashed inside, ignoring the trail of water he left behind.
He moved quickly, searching for anything useful. His phone wasn't turning on. Maybe it was dead, or water had got into it? No calls meant no help. If a creature like that existed, this could be the end of the world.
"Think, Riley, think... Maybe that creature wasn't after me, but if it was, I need to make sure I can flee to the countryside," he muttered, starting to talk to himself.
"It's not weird to talk to yourself, Riley. What's weird is this situation. Now—where's my bag?"
He grabbed his bag from a cupboard to the side. It wasn't anything fancy—just an old one from his study days. The house was reasonably tidy. An open space: kitchen overlooking the lounge, a staircase to the right leading to his room and bathroom.
"Food and something to hunt with, maybe? I swear I put that cool knife in here somewhere."
Bang!
In his haste, he yanked the utensil drawer too hard, sending forks and knives flying. Luckily, the clumsy move revealed the very knife he needed.
"Knife—check. Now, food, a lighter and maybe a sleeping bag. I've still got that cheap tent, right?"
He shovelled random supplies into his pack. The last items he needed were upstairs—things like toiletries and deodorant.
"And there should be a compass in my room somewhere. Right, Riley?"
He rushed up to his room, breathless. The bag hung off one shoulder. His earbuds were still in, and he completely ignored them.
He flicked on the light and checked his phone one more time.
"Just one call. That's all I need."
But no—the phone stayed dead.
He turned his attention to the room, searching for the compass.
When he finally found it and looked up, the smile on his face faded.
He had made a mistake.
Riley's room faced the street. And usually, he loved the view with all its buildings and streetlamps—but not tonight. Tonight, the window revealed nothing. The street outside had vanished into darkness. It was an easy fix, though; all he needed to do was close the curtains, and the problem was solved.
He moved toward the curtains to close them when, from somewhere out in the black void beyond the window, a sharp breathing sound flew into his ears again. It was not the first time he'd heard that sound today.
He froze.
There was nothing he could see, and yet the sound chilled him to the bone. He closed his eyes.
It was nothing—he told himself that.
It was nothing that made him ignore the long, spindly, spider-like fingers now sliding open his window.
It was nothing that caused another slender arm to reach inside his room.
Rain splattered against his cheek, icy and rhythmic. He opened his eyes.
And it was nothing that caused Riley to pass out from terror.
******************
When he came to, Riley's mouth tasted like dirt and rocks. Face-down on the ground, soaked and stiff, he pushed himself up and spat—yep, definitely dirt in his mouth.
Above, a clear night sky stretched endlessly, the moon casting a silvery glow that made the world around him just visible enough. But the view before him was like nothing he'd ever seen.
He was high—absurdly high. A vast sea of clouds rolled out below in every direction, broken only by jagged mountain peaks piercing through the mist. Snow-capped, their ridges glinting like glass under the moonlight. Riley was perched on one of those peaks—near the summit, it seemed.
And it was freezing.
The wet clothes still clinging to his body had begun to stiffen, the cold already seeping into his bones. Warmth was now a priority.
"How on earth did I get up here?" he muttered.
The question hung in the thin air, unanswered. Then, out of nowhere, a strange kicking and spitting sound broke the silence. At first it just sounded like static, but quickly changed tune to that of a man's voice at first quiet, as if the voice was still adjusting. Riley simply froze, trying not to move as he registered his situation, and confusion filled his mind even more.
The voice grew louder in Riley's ear.
"Testing, testing! Can you hear me?"
Riley flinched at the sudden voice in his ear.
"What the hell? Who's there?!"
His heart pounded, adrenaline surging as he scanned the ridge for any sign of movement, or something.
"Check your ear."
The voice was calm, oddly composed. It sounded like a man, young, even, perhaps not much older than him. Not threatening, just... unexpected. As the voice talked, Riley followed its prompt, reaching up to his ear, he found himself holding a wireless earbud.
One ear now caught the wind. The other still buzzed with the young man's voice.
"Can you at least engage with me a little?" the voice continued. "It's been ages since I've had company. Then you show up, quite literally lending an ear—who am I not to talk?"
Still breathing heavily, Riley took a moment to process. Mist rose from his skin, steam escaping with each breath. A full-body shiver overtook him.
"I'm so cold," he whispered.