Chapter 2: Whispers in the Dark
John leaned against his seat, staring out the window as the plane sliced through the night sky. The city lights had long faded, replaced by an ocean of darkness stretching endlessly below. At first, it was just the usual transition from land to empty sky but then something changed.
The shadows shifted.The smooth gradient of night became thick, pulsating unnaturally like ink spilling across the world. The edges of the horizon twisted, swallowing the last remnants of light.
John stiffened.
"No... this isn't real."
He blinked, trying to shake the feeling, but the darkness grew deeper, shifting into something more than mere shadow. And then he was there again.
No seat. No plane. Only the void.
His breath hitched as he turned frantically, trying to make sense of his surroundings but this time, something was different.
Ahead, a whirlpool of darkness raged, consuming the space violently.
No not just a whirlpool.
A figure was trapped within, struggling, clawing desperately to escape.
John's heartbeat thundered in his chest. He could barely see the form distorted by the swirling abyss but whoever it was, they were human. Or something close to it.
They were trying to say something.
Their mouth moved, forming words—but no sound reached him. John took a step back, fear sinking into his bones.
"I can't hear"
Then, like a crack in reality, the voice slipped through.
"...curse..."
The single, fragmented word tore through the silence, carrying weight beyond comprehension.
Curse?
John took another step back, his entire body screaming to run.
But before he could move, something grabbed him from behind.
A sudden, cold grip clamped onto his shoulder.
His breath caught in his throat as panic surged through him. He spun around ready to fight, ready to flee
But instead, he faced her.
A smiling flight attendant, standing calmly in the aisle.
"Sir?" she said gently. "We've arrived at your destination."
The nightmare vanished instantly.
John sat frozen in his seat, heart hammering, body drenched in sweat. His mind scrambled to process.
"It... was just a dream?"
But no. It wasn't.
He felt it.
He was there.
The flight attendant tilted her head slightly, waiting for him to acknowledge her.
John swallowed hard, forcing himself to nod. He stood, offering a quiet "Thanks", before swiftly grabbing his bag and stepping off the plane as if escaping something unseen.
The humid air of home clung to his skin the moment he stepped into the terminal. The overhead lights felt too bright, too sharp after the oppressive darkness of his dreams.
John spotted his uncle near the exit, leaning against a pillar with a cigarette lazily between his fingers. Relief flooded through him an anchor of normalcy after the disorienting journey.
"Uncle," John called, approaching him quickly.
His uncle glanced up, his sharp gaze scanning John's face for longer than necessary.
"You look like hell," he muttered.
John exhaled a dry chuckle. "That obvious?"
They exchanged a few casual words before heading to the car. The weight pressing against John's chest hadn't faded, but the presence of family helped ground him.
As they settled into the vehicle, he couldn't hold back his question any longer.
"Why did you call me home so suddenly?"
His uncle didn't respond right away. He kept his eyes on the road, fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. Then, finally, he spoke.
"You've been having strange dreams, haven't you?"
John felt his stomach drop.
"...What?"
His uncle turned his gaze toward him, eyes unreadable.
"Tell me about them."
The way he said it firm, expectant, as if he already knew made a chill crawl down John's spine.
How could he possibly know?
And why did it feel like this was only the beginning?