"Do you not get it?! That boy has a serious problem in his head—we need to send him to a hospital that can fix him!" the man shouted angrily at the woman.
"Felix! He's just a young boy, he's still a child! Sending him to countless psychiatrists just because he acts different from most kids is not right! He is your son, Felix!" the woman shouted back, tears falling down her cheeks.
"Just because he acts different? Rhea, that kid is always talking and playing by himself. If not, he just stares at the wall. Ever since he was born, he's never even called us Mom or Dad! And most of all, he's killed a cat, a dog, and even a bird—many times! You call that just acting different?!" Felix yelled.
"He is your son, Felix!" the woman screamed.
"No… that thing is not mine," the man muttered coldly, like it was his final word.
As they fought downstairs, the young boy sat in a dimly lit room. Their voices echoed faintly through the cracked walls. He perched quietly on the edge of his bed, a tattered book open in his lap, lit only by the flickering glow of a small flashlight. As he turned a page, something rolled onto the bed.
A toy ball. Or what appeared to be one.
It moved unnaturally, twitching. Then two red orbs blinked open on its surface—eyes. A jagged red mouth followed, creaking open with a stuttering sound like a dying machine gasping for breath. It rolled forward with a broken, eerie rhythm.
But the boy—Rael—didn't flinch.
He raised his flashlight and sighed. "I already told you. We can't play this week. We need to lie low. My father's already on edge."
The ball trembled violently, its mouth opening and closing rapidly with a metallic screech.
"Okay, okay," Rael muttered. "Just a few minutes."
The toy stilled.
Rael touched it gently.
His eyes turned pitch-black.
Then, as suddenly as it came, the darkness faded. The toy was gone.
A bird landed on the window sill. Rael slowly walked toward it. Without warning, an invisible force yanked the bird inside and into his hand.
He stared at it. Blank. Emotionless.
Downstairs, voices surged.
"I'm sending that child to a hospital—whether you agree or not!" Felix shouted.
"No! I won't let—"
THUMP.
A sound from above. A heavy thud.
Felix and Rhea looked at the ceiling, dread etched in their faces.
Felix bolted up the stairs. Rhea followed, her whisper trembling: "No…"
At the boy's door, Felix paused. His hand hovered above the knob, shaking.
He opened the door.
Rael was crouched on the floor, blood staining his hands. The bird's body twitched one last time before falling still.
Then his eyes turned black. Again.
They returned to normal. Rael blinked. Confused. Afraid.
He looked down. The lifeless bird lay in a pool of blood.
His father exploded with rage. "I TOLD YOU! Every time you do THAT, I'll hit you a hundred times!"
The belt came down.
Rael fell to his knees. "Sorry… sorry…" he whispered. His hands trembled, blood dripping from his fingers.
His mother rushed in. "No! No! Rael… Rael…"
GASP!
Rael awoke, breathless.
The sunlight poured through his window. He stared at the peeling ceiling of his cramped room, sweat trailing down his brow.
"Another cursed memory," he muttered.
He dressed quickly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. As he opened his door—
A figure stood there.
Its face was void. No eyes. No mouth. Just bleeding holes where life once existed.
Rael walked past it.
He didn't even blink.
After a shower at the public bathhouse, he checked his nearly empty wallet.
"No breakfast. Again."
The walk to school was quiet, the morning mist clinging to the air. Rael arrived to the chaos of students shouting, laughing, chasing each other through the halls.
THWACK.
"Morning, nerd!" someone laughed, smacking the back of his head.
Rael rubbed the spot, sighing, and entered his classroom.
Inside, an old naked man stood muttering to the wall.
Gaunt. Starving. Eyes wild.
Rael walked past him. No one else seemed to notice.
Class began. As usual, Rael answered perfectly, ignored everyone, and stared out the window.
A few hours later:
"Mr. Rael Aurelio. Please come to the office."
In the staff room, a teacher leaned forward.
"Rael, your grades are exceptional. But you're isolating yourself. No friends. No clubs. No activities. Is something wrong?"
Rael stayed quiet.
"I'm not asking you to be the class clown. Just try."
Rael gave a hollow nod. "Yes, sir."
He returned to class. Lunchtime passed without food. He sat alone while others shared jokes and meals.
Two more figures appeared. Naked. Withered. Muttering.
Rael ignored them. Earphones in. Eyes on the sky. A breeze kissed his cheek as he drifted into sleep.
Evening came.
The announcement echoed: "All students must leave the campus. It is now after hours."
Rael stood, gathering his things.
As he opened the classroom door—
A faceless woman shrieked.
He flinched. The hallway darkened. The air grew cold.
The naked man and woman turned.
Grinning.
Their mouths stretched grotesquely wide.
Rael muttered, "Oh shit…"
He pushed forward—but collided into someone.
He stumbled back.
It was a man in his thirties, with unkempt hair and a short beard, wearing a worn brown leather jacket over a grey hoodie. His eyes—sharp, observant—locked onto Rael's.
"You saw them too, didn't you?" the man said.
Rael froze.
The man stepped closer. "The remnants. Can you see them?"
"Remnants?" Rael echoed.
Before he could answer, a loud shout pierced the corridor.
"HEY! WHO ARE YOU?!"
A teacher stormed toward the man.
Rael turned to look at the old school hallway—but something was off. The walls felt older. Cracked. Faded, like an echo of another time.
The teacher's voice grew more distant, more distorted.
"Who's that guy?" Rael thought. "And why… why does he see them too?"
The man in the leather jacket smiled faintly.
And then he was gone.
The remnants remained.
And they were still smiling.
Rael backed away slowly, eyes darting from one ghostly figure to another.
One word burned in his mind:
Remnants.