Black Horizon

November 22, 2018

It had been three days since Lucas found the stone in the forest, but the aftermath of that encounter clung to him like a shadow. The mark on his wrist hadn't stopped tingling, its warmth growing more insistent with each passing day.

The strange sensation always grew worse near the old television in the living room. Its glassy screen buzzed with static, faint lines flickering as if reacting to some unseen signal.

| Ughh, please stop! | He thought to himself

He rubbed at his wrist, trying to will the sensation away.

{ The sensation wasn't just a reminder—it was the first true warning. But back then, I still couldn't see it. }

The tingling only deepened, creeping up his arm like a slow, crawling burn.

The TV screen pulsed, static hissing sharply before cutting out completely. The room plunged into silence. Lucas stared at the blank screen, his breath catching.

| What?! Did I do that?! | 

The mark's heat faded, leaving only a faint echo of discomfort. He stepped back, his pulse racing. The TV whirred back to life on its own, the picture clear as if nothing had happened.

Lucas's chest tightened. He shoved his hands into his pockets, desperate for the warmth of something familiar. The stone from the forest pressed against his palm, cool and lifeless. Yet somehow, it felt… connected.

➤

The dreams were worse now. He wasn't just a witness to the crumbling world—he was part of it. Every night, it felt closer. 

Lucas stood again in the shadow of a ruined skyline. The air tasted metallic, thick with ash. Shadows moved at the edge of his vision, faceless figures that loomed without form. They didn't speak, but their presence screamed, a pressure that drilled into his skull.

The mark on his wrist glowed faintly, a weak but defiant light in the darkness. Lucas clutched his arm, trying to hide it, to dim its shine. But the light pulsed stronger with every heartbeat, painting the fractured ground in pale, sickly hues.

A low hum rippled through the air. The figures shifted. Their heads—or what passed for heads—tilted toward him in unison.

| They saw me. |

Lucas stumbled backward, the ground cracking beneath his feet. He turned to run, but the world shifted around him, the ruins bending and twisting as if alive. The shadows closed in, faster than they should have been.

"Get away from me!" he shouted, his voice echoing.

The mark burned. The light exploded outward, blinding, searing—

➤

He woke with a gasp, sweat-soaked and trembling. His room was dark, but the faint glow of the mark still lingered, pulsing weakly against his skin. The world around him blurred as he jolted upright—not his room. His desk. His classroom.

Laughter rippled through the classroom like a rising tide, building in waves. Someone in the back mimicked his gasp dramatically. Another added, "Had a nightmare, Lucas?"

Lucas's face burned as he glanced around, his hoodie slipping from his head.

The mark on his wrist throbbed beneath his sleeve, a cold pulse that seemed to echo louder with each mocking chuckle. He wanted to shrink into the desk, to disappear entirely, but the whispers swirled in his mind, louder now, their words tangled and insistent.

The teacher's voice cut through the noise. "Lucas, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

| Oh god.. This is embarassing.. |

Lucas shook his head quickly, his throat too dry to form words. The laughter lingered, fading only when the teacher resumed the lesson. He slumped lower in his seat, avoiding the glances still aimed his way.

➤

Lucas trudged to his desk, his hoodie pulled low over his face. He barely listened as the teacher droned on about historical battles. His mind was elsewhere—on the mark, the stone, the whispers that still lingered at the edge of his thoughts.

The creak of the classroom door signaled the teacher's departure.

Lucas sat slumped in his chair, his gaze fixed on the desk as he tried to shake off the remnants of the dream that had haunted him since the morning. It wasn't just a dream—it felt heavier.

A sudden poke against his arm snapped him out of his thoughts. He blinked and turned his head, startled, to find his seatmate, Alyssa, leaning toward him.

Her hazel eyes studied him, her brow furrowed slightly in concern. Strands of her dark brown hair fell over her shoulder as she tilted her head.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice soft but insistent.

Lucas hesitated. "Oh, nothing," he said after a moment, scratching his head. "I just had a dream."

Alyssa didn't look convinced. She narrowed her eyes slightly, the corner of her mouth twitching as if she was debating whether to press further. "Are you sure?"

He let out a small sigh. "Yeah, it's fine," he replied, trying to sound more convincing.

She didn't push, but her expression softened, and her tone shifted. "Oh, by the way," she said, glancing pointedly at his desk, "can you still keep up with the class? I've seen you sleeping a lot lately."

Lucas felt a flicker of embarrassment. Of course, she'd noticed. "No," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, "but it's alright, I guess? I'll manage."

Alyssa gave him a skeptical look, her lips quirking into a small smile. "If you say so," she said lightly, leaning back into her chair.

Before he could respond, the classroom door swung open again, and the teacher returned, dragging a table with a projector on top. The loud chatter in the room evaporated instantly, replaced by the rustle of students adjusting in their seats.

Alyssa gave Lucas one last glance before turning to face the front. He watched her for a moment, her presence oddly grounding, before shifting his focus back to the lesson. The dream still lingered in the back of his mind.

The projector at the front of the room buzzed faintly, the image flickering. Lucas's wrist warmed. He flinched, clenching his fists under the desk.

| What is this?! |

The mark tingled stronger, heat building as the projector flickered more erratically. The teacher frowned, tapping the machine lightly. "Sorry, class. Looks like this thing's on its last leg."Lucas's pulse quickened. He stared at the projector, willing it to hold together. The warmth in his wrist surged suddenly, a sharp spike that made him bite back a wince.

The projector died with a loud pop. The bulb shattered, sending shards clinking to the floor. The class erupted in murmurs, but the teacher waved it off with a forced laugh.

The class fell into chaos.

Some students gasped, while others raised their necks to observe.

The teacher pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to corral their attention, but the damage was done. The room was alive with noise.

"Alright, guess… uh, we're not doing that," the teacher said, fumbling for the whiteboard markers. "No big deal. Totally fine."

| I can't control this thing! |

Lucas hunched lower in his seat, his heart pounding. He rubbed at the mark through his sleeve, but the heat was already fading. The whispers were back, faint and distant, curling around his thoughts like smoke.

The school bell rung, marking the end of the day. Lucas grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he trudged toward the exit. The usual chatter of students filled the hallways, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere—on the strange power that had been simmering beneath his skin, refusing to yield to his will.

By the time he stepped through the front door of his house, the afternoon sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the living room. He tossed his bag onto the couch and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. The restless energy was still there, coiled tight in his chest, gnawing at him.

He tried again. The power surged, wild and chaotic, lashing out like a cornered animal. Sparks danced along his fingertips, hissing and fizzling into nothing. He staggered back, his chest heaving.

| Why won't it listen to me? |

Frustration boiled over. He slammed his fist against the wall, the dull thud echoing in the quiet house.

"Damn it!" Lucas stared at his trembling hands, the anger in his voice cracking under the weight of helplessness.

For a fleeting moment, the room seemed to respond. A faint hum filled the air, and the lightbulb above flickered uncertainly. He froze, hope flashing through him like lightning. But just as quickly, it was gone, leaving only silence and the suffocating weight of failure.