23/02/2025
The Signal
The first sign was the static. A sudden, jarring burst of white noise that erupted from every radio, every television, every speaker in the world. It was as if the very airwaves themselves had been choked, the world plunged into a silent, unsettling vacuum. Then, the lights flickered, dimmed, and died.
It was 8:07 PM on a Tuesday.
The world plunged into darkness, an unsettling silence pressing against the ears. The city lights, once a shimmering constellation against the night sky, vanished, swallowed by the inky blackness. People spilled onto the streets, their faces illuminated by the flickering glow of their phones, a collective wave of unease washing over the city.
The internet, the lifeline of the modern world, went dark. Panic erupted. Rumors flew like wildfire – a solar flare, a nuclear attack, a cyberwarfare gone wrong. No one knew what to believe, what to fear.
The silence was broken by the incessant buzz of sirens. Emergency services, scrambling to understand the chaos, raced through the darkened streets. The city was in a state of complete paralysis, a city of millions, suddenly alone and afraid.
Then came the screams. They started as a faint murmur, a distant echo of terror. Then, they grew louder, closer, until the city was drowned in a symphony of fear.
It wasn't a nuclear attack, not a solar flare. It was something far more sinister, far more terrifying. The creatures, the shadows that had always lurked in the dark corners of our minds, had broken free.
The world, it seemed, had changed forever. The silence that had been so unnerving, so unnatural, had finally given way to a new kind of fear. The fear of the unknown, the fear of the darkness that now held them captive.
The apocalypse, it seemed, had arrived. And for the first time in their lives, they were truly afraid.
