քʀօʟօɢʊɛ

My life was, by all accounts, a good one. My work as a character designer was fulfilling, even if the deadlines kept me busy, and my family was a constant, kind presence. I'd never missed a birthday, and just yesterday, they had surrounded me with laughter to celebrate my twenty-seventh. It was a life of quiet, predictable comfort.

Yet, in the calm of that normality, a persistent curiosity gnawed at me. It was a longing for something I couldn't name—a whisper at the edge of my consciousness, wondering if the world held more than the familiar cycle of work and home. I was happy, yet I felt an inexplicable incompleteness, as if I were a character waiting for his story to truly begin.

As the evening rain softened to a drizzle, I decided to clear my head. "Hidari!" I called. The click of claws on the floor announced my dog's arrival, his tail wagging with an enthusiasm I wished I could mirror. "Let's go for a walk."

My mind was still churning. Ever wondered if there was something more? I thought, pulling on my jacket. Perhaps I had been playing too many MMOs, losing myself in fantastical worlds. Was this a desire for escape? But the question baffled me. If my life was so stable, so good, what was I trying to escape from? And to where? I shook my head, dismissing the thoughts as nonsense.

Hidari and I stepped out into the damp, cool air. He strained at his leash, infinitely more excited by the prospect of the park than I was. I closed the door on my warm, lit home, and we set off.

When we arrived at the park, an unusual stillness greeted us. It was utterly empty, devoid of the usual evening joggers or couples strolling. The only sound was the drip of rainwater from the leaves. The silence was unnerving. Hidari, oblivious to my unease, went about his business, and I did my duty as a responsible owner, disposing of his "work of art" in the bin.

But then his behavior shifted. He began to bark, not his playful yap, but a low, anxious sound that raised the hairs on my neck. He was staring intently at the sky, his body tense. Following his gaze, I looked up, and my breath caught in my throat.

There, hanging in the cleared sky, was a blood moon—a deep, coppery red from a total lunar eclipse. It was a spectacular sight, but instead of wonder, a searing, sudden pain erupted in my stomach and chest. It was so intense it stole the air from my lungs. My legs buckled, and I fell hard onto the wet grass.

Gasping, I tried to resist, my hand fumbling for the phone in my pocket. My vision swam; the empty park seemed to warp and tilt around me. Hidari was at my side now, barking frantically, his barks echoing in the profound silence. I was rapidly losing my grip on my senses, the world dissolving into a smear of dark shapes and that ominous red glow. With my last shred of consciousness, my eyes were drawn irresistibly back to the eclipsed moon. Then, everything went black.