"The Beginning of the End… or the End of the Beginning"
I tried to gather the scattered fragments of my strength.
I looked toward the door—it was closed, as if nothing had ever happened.
I hadn't heard the man leave. No sound, no reaction echoed back from the doorway.
I saw no reflection of him in the glass, nor any trace of his presence lingering in the air.
I glanced at the chair—it was still out of place.
And the symbol… it remained carved before me, unchanged, every detail intact.
I placed my hand on the table once more, trying to draw closer to it—but this time, I didn't touch it.
I was afraid to.
Afraid of what I might see…
Or worse—what I might remember, clawing open wounds that had never truly healed.
I left the café slowly, like a soldier fleeing a war, dragging behind him the weight of defeat.
I think the world outside was no longer the same as when I entered.
The street… felt longer.
Narrower Darker.
The streetlamps flickered irregularly, trembling in a strange rhythm—as if they were trying to say something… something buried within their dim light.
A warning, perhaps. Of something yet to come.
I stopped walking.
My breathing echoed loudly in the heavy stillness.
"This… isn't the same road I always take… is it?"
And yet, I was certain I hadn't strayed.
I hadn't changed direction—I had simply walked out.
Still… everything felt wrong.
One step Then another.
But the sound I heard…
It wasn't just my footsteps.
In that suffocating silence, with my breath faltering—I heard it clearly.
I stopped.
The sound stopped.
I walked again.
It returned—perfectly aligned with my steps.
Same rhythm. Same timing.
No… louder than mine.
I turned abruptly.
No one.
Nothing.
The street was completely empty.
But the feeling didn't fade.
It grew stronger.
As if someone was walking behind me…
At the same distance…
Always.
I quickened my pace.
Then faster.
Until I was running.
But the sound—
It didn't disappear.
It grew closer.
Faster.
Until I stopped suddenly, turned, and shouted:
"Show yourself!"
My voice shattered against the walls, echoing back at me—as though I stood trapped between four reflecting surfaces of sound.
No answer.
Then… in the distance—
At the end of the street—
I saw it.
A shadow.
Standing still.
No features. No movement.
But I was certain… it was looking at me.
I blinked.
And it was gone.
"No… no… this isn't real…"
Am I in an abandoned ghost city?
Damn it… could that even be possible?
I pressed my hand against my head.
"I'm losing control…"
But that thought brought no comfort.
It was worse.
Because everything felt too real.
No—more than real.
Clear Tangible.
Undeniable.
I reached the building as if I had been transported into another world—through a corridor that was not the one I used to take.
I rushed up the stairs, breath broken and uneven.
I opened the door—stepped inside—and slammed it shut behind me.
Then I locked it.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
ط
I leaned my back against it, shut my eyes, and told myself with forced certainty:
"I'm fine…"
But I wasn't.
When I opened my eyes…
I wasn't alone.
I froze.
I didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't scream.
I only… looked.
Something was standing in the corner of the room.
Half of it swallowed by darkness.
The other half…
Didn't exist.
As if it were unfinished—
Or being erased.
"Wh… who's there?"
My voice came out broken.
No answer.
But it moved.
One step.
Slowly—so slowly it felt as though time itself resisted its advance.
I gathered what little courage I had left to move forward—
But instead, I stepped back.
I hit the table.
A glass fell.
Shattered.
The sound tore through the silence, scattering my thoughts.
Who is it…?
And then—
It vanished.
Gone.
Nothing there.
The room stood empty, just as it had been.
As if nothing had ever happened.
"Am I… hallucinating…?"
I sank down like a defeated man.
I grabbed my head, pressing it between my hands.
But then…
Something new.
On the floor.
Among the scattered shards of glass.
Something that hadn't been there before.
A piece of paper.
I stared at it.
I didn't want to get closer.
But after a brief, silent struggle—I did.
As if I had no choice.
I bent down and picked it up.
It was old. Worn.
But the writing was clear.
"Do not look behind the curtain."
I froze.
"Which curtain…?"
Then I remembered.
The curtain in the room—gray, laced with black.
I slowly raised my head and looked at it.
It was moving.
Gently.
Like flowing water.
Even though the window was closed.
"That's impossible…"
I stepped closer.
Then another step.
I reached out my hand—
And stopped.
My heart screamed: Don't.
But I did.
I pulled the curtain aside.
The window was closed.
Just as I expected.
But the glass…
Didn't reflect me.
It showed something else.
A room.
Not mine.
Dark.
And there—
Someone was sitting on the floor.
Their hands stained with something dark.
Trembling.
I leaned closer to the glass.
"Who… is that?"
They slowly lifted their head.
And it was.
Me.
I stumbled back violently.
My breath collapsed into fragments.
"No… no… that's impossible…!"
But then the voice returned.
"Simon…"
A voice that made every part of me tremble—down to my very cells.
This time… it wasn't in my head.
It was behind me.
I froze in place.
"Don't turn around," it whispered.
"Because if you do…"
It paused.
"You'll remember."
Tears filled my eyes.
"What… will I see?"
Silence.
Then—
"What you did."
My heart stopped for a second.
"I… didn't do anything…"
I said it.
But I wasn't sure.
"Are you certain?"
Another voice.
Not the same one.
Deeper.
Colder.
"Because she…"
It stopped.
"She was screaming your name."
The words fell inside me like blades, carving through me.
"Stop…" I whispered.
But the voice didn't.
"And you… just watched."
I screamed:
"ENOUGH!!"
Silence swallowed everything.
The room returned—empty, still.
But…
I was no longer the same.
I looked at my hands—they were trembling.
But this time…
I wasn't afraid of what I saw.
I was afraid of what I was beginning to remember.
Somewhere…
Behind another curtain—
Not in this room.
Something was waiting for me.
The stage…
But this time—
I wasn't going there just to remember.
I was going…
To face it...
The next chapter will tell the beginning of the excitement...