–Wheeeeeeeooooohhh...
An eerie howl of wind jolted him awake. His body throbbed with pain after collapsing from excessive caffeine intake. His vision slowly cleared—but something was wrong.
Everything in his cramped, one-room house was gone. The space felt... off. Empty. Unfamiliar. An unsettling presence clung to the walls. He stared around, taking in what looked like his room—but not quite. Familiar, yet disturbingly different.
His heart still ached, pulsing painfully in his chest, but his thoughts were sharpening. He pushed himself up and stumbled to the sink, splashing water on his face.
His limbs screamed with pain, but he had to know what happened to his belongings. He moved toward the door. As his hand touched the doorknob, a wave of dread surged through him.
Maybe it was just the caffeine. Maybe not.
"I don't have the money to be scared of this shit," he muttered, gripping the doorknob and yanking the door open.
Silence.
Too silent—for a squatter neighborhood in a third-world country.
Even in his irrational, half-delirious state, he was a smart man. He knew something was deeply wrong. The street outside looked almost like the one he knew—same layout, same buildings—but it wasn't. This wasn't the place he grew up.
He was about to step out when something caught his eye.
In the distance, hanging from a tree, a rusted public swing creaked slowly back and forth. A child sat on it—facing away from him. Only its silhouette was visible under the dim, flickering streetlight.
Then, without a sound, the child's head twisted—a full 360 degrees—and locked eyes with him.
He slammed the door shut.
His heart thundered, slamming against his ribcage. His chest tightened, and a wave of panic set in.
"Is it the coffee? Fuck—I overdid it."
He had to know if it was real. Hesitantly, he opened the door again.
Nothing.
The swing was empty.
He told himself it was just his mind playing tricks—but then he noticed something.
The swing was still moving.
He was about to shut the door again when he heard it.
A giggle.
High-pitched. Childlike. Wrong.
It came from behind him.
He spun around, swinging his fist—but nothing was there. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a figure darting past. Another giggle echoed through the house—closer now.
His heart pounded like a war drum. Sweat pooled on his forehead. He stood frozen in place, too terrified to breathe.
Hee! HeeHEeHEE... HEEEHEEEHEEHEHEEEHEE..."
The laughter distorted—stretching, warping—morphing into something inhuman.
He couldn't take it anymore.
He lurched forward and began to vomit. A thick, black liquid spewed from his mouth like a possessed Merlion statue. As he turned and retched again, some of the foul spray landed on something behind him.
And then he saw it.
A child-like figure—its neck hideously twisted, bones jutting through torn flesh, eyes hollow, and a sinister smile etched across its decaying face.
He kept throwing up, black bile splashing across the creature.
The child screamed—a horrible, shrieking wail—like it was in agony.
Valen didn't know why, but the thing started to burn. Flames erupted from its body, curling upward in unnatural patterns.
He collapsed, drained, every ounce of strength sapped by fear.
He could only lie there, eyes wide, staring at the burning child.
From its disintegrating body, a few coffee beans dropped onto the floor, smoldering.
He had no strength to gather them. No mind to understand.
He simply sat there, trembling, like a potato waiting to be harvested.