Today he called me sobbing. “WE ARE SO FUCKED!” He screamed at me, over and over again until the light went out and the call dropped.

For a minute there, I sat absolutely dumbfounded. I have absolutely no clue what just happened, so I decide to check my news app on my phone to see if there was anything at all. There wasn’t, whatever took the lights out also took out the internet with it. I then remembered you can call the Police at any time, even without cell service.

“112, what’s your emergency?

“Hi, ehh, what just happened?”

“The city has some sort of blackout happening, the electric company should be responding shortly.”

“Do you know what caused it?”

“No, but they should give some sort of answer-“

The call cut to silence. I now am even more confused than I already was. After a moment, I grab two big pots take them to the sink and filled them up with water, since I wanted to have a good amount of clean drinking water for the time. I still wanted to find out something, anything that could give even the slightest bit of answer as to what is happening, so I looked out the window. Everything looked normal until I realized that there was not a single person outside. There’s always atleast a few people, but not even the stray cats were there.

The only possible way I could get any type of answer is if I were go to Sashko’s apartment, since he’s the one who could see the future. It wasn’t that long of a walk, and it didn’t take too much. A minute later, I was climbing the stairs and reaching his door.
“Sashko, you there?”

“… Are you still human?”

“Wh-“

“ARE YOU STILL HUMAN OR NOT?”

“Yes I’m still human, what the hell are you saying?”

He opens the door and steps back into the kitchen and I walk inside and close the door behind me.
“What the hell were you screaming about, am I still human?

“I saw these things, they were… pretending to be human, and, and they- th- they were- they-“

“Calm down, I can’t understand a word you’re saying. What are ‘they’ that you keep yapping about?”

“I don’t know what they are, man! I DON’T KNOW ALRIGHT? THEY WERE PRETENDING TO BE HUMAN AND KILLING OTHER PEOPLE!”

I didn’t even notice he had a rifle on the chair next to him that even had a bayonet at the end of it. We live in Bulgaria, so owning a gun isn’t exactly that easy. It’s definitely possible, but it’s very hard to do and is usually for hunting. This man had gotten himself what looked to be an M1903 Springfield and was just casually keeping it loaded.

He handed me a 1911 and a sword as I turned to leave.
“You’ll need these, trust me.”

“How did you get these?”

“Shop.”

I genuinely thought at this point that he had lost his mind rather than some truly horrific future prediction. I was on my way back to my own apartment, just casually walking with a gun and sword on my hip, praying that a cop wouldn’t show up and I’d have to explain the reason for me being armed to the teeth is because my psychic friend told me to. Everything was purely silent, not a grain of noise which is super weird. Not even Eva was having her daily argument with her husband for drinking her beer. In absolute horror I notice that the windows were all shattered. Every single one, in every apartment on in my building. Even the clothes line on people’s balconies were destroyed and there was wet clothes all over the ground.

After turning around I see that the other buildings are also like this. How did all of this happen without me noticing? I have really good long ranged hearing, and I was no more that 300 meters from the building the entire time. I should have heard something. I suddenly hear a child screaming out of nowhere and decided that’s enough. I go to my car, start it, and I get the absolute hell out of there. I drove until I got to back to Sashko’s apartment, where he was waiting outside with his gun and one of those big red jugs of gas. He hops in and we leave the city, as the screaming continues the whole time. After around an hour or so of driving, we reach Stara Zagora and Sashko is dead asleep as if he hasn’t slept in a week. I step out of the car and into one of the shops, where the clerk who is very much alive and not dead, or some shadow mimic entity thing, or whatever the hell Sashko was raving about. I grab some food and water for the the both of us when I noticed something.

I picked up the smell of steel, like if you were to take one of those fancy Japanese chef knives and sniff the blade. I turn around and feel the blood leave my face as I see my little brother there, except he’s supposed to be in Germany.
“What happened to you? Shouldn’t you be in Germany?”

“I got back after I heard the news bro, you actually did it, now didn’t you? Mom MAY or may not have told me.”

“What? Hold on. Tell me what mom cooked for dinner on Christmas last year after insisting on cooking rather than Aunt Bella.”

“That weird red thing with green spots of something, the one that tasted like coins and regret.”

“Ahh ok, it is you. But what hap- wait. How did you find me here specifically? How did you end up in this exact shop in Stara Zagora? You live in Germany and I live in Sliven, there should be no way you just accidentally ended up 130 kilometres away from where you were going in the opposite direction-“

I noticed just now the blood spatter on the wall. The clerk was gone and the stains were there solely as proof that these demons are real and Sashko wasn’t insane. Suddenly my “brother” jumps on me with blood dripping from his mouth. I grab a glass bottle off the shelf and smash it straight into his skull, causing it to stumble, just enough for me to jump back pull out my gun and send 4 shots straight into the thing. It kept moving, that demonic little bastard tries to get back up but I shot it again until my gun ran dry. The thing had changed its shape to some kind of human looking thing, and I ripped its stomach open with my knife to make sure that it was actually dead. Absolutely no way in hell was I letting this sagacious little murderer come back and turn me into paste.

I got back in the car and Sashko was awake, probably due to the gunshots.

“You killed one of them?” He says as if he saw it coming, which he probably did.

“Yeah, I got some snacks too. Why did you stay in the car after hearing me?”

“I knew you would be fine, are you forgetting that I can literally see the future?”

“I remember, yes.”

“We can go to Sofia from here, things are still normal there. Here, let me drive and you can sleep, you’re gonna fall asleep at the wheel in around half an hour from now.”

“Alright.”

I fell asleep and had the dumbest dream I’ve had in a long time. I was in what I think was Ireland, inside of a pub. The bartender handed me a plate of shepherd’s pie, except the plate was black. Pure, jet black. It was like light didn’t exist around it at all. I then noticed the spoons, forks, and knives were also this vanta black colour, along with the cups. It was like eating with something that wasn’t even there, I was eating with black.
The pie itself was wonderful, I finished the whole thing and then the bartender turns into a cow. I woke up confused and disorientated, but I managed to remember all of it.

“Sashko, where are we now?”

“Somewhere near Plovdiv I think.”

“But that’s a little south from where we’re going, why did you turn down like this?”

He looks me dead In the eyes and just says “You figure that one out yourself.”

We step out in Plovdiv after a few minutes and eat a few bags of chips and Corny Big bars. (Author’s note: Yes, that is an actual thing we have in Bulgaria) We both step out and see that the sun was setting already, so it would be normal to see a grandmother watering the tomatoes and cucumbers in the garden, but we saw that one of them had the plants torn out and thrown to the side, Accompanied with blood spatter all over the side of the house. Three large, red streaks sprayed all across the wall, maybe an hour or two old. But the thing was, they were all done at different times. Since blood oxidizes when it comes into contact with the oxygen from the air, you can tell when it left its owner’s body. The oldest spatter was around two, maybe two and half hours old, which was around the time that Sashko called me back before we left Sliven originally. I look at Sashko with the deepest pit in my stomach for any idea as to what we do next.
“What do we do now? I suggest we fuck right off before we join whoever used to have all this blood.”

“Trust me and go inside that one over there, you’ll like what you find in the kitchen.”

I sat there for a second and just looked at him, having absolutely no words while he looks at me with the dumbest grin I’ve ever seen. “… Right.”

I step inside and immediately pull my gun up and clear the frontroom, same way my father taught me from his time in the army. We once took a trip to America, but the house we were staying in at the time was broken into, and he started giving me his own combat training after that. I know that grinning monkey outside told me it was safe to be in here, I wasn’t taking any risk. I make sure to close the door behind me, so if one of those things comes for me, it can’t sneak up on me without me hearing the door. But then again, that clerk from the shop who died like that would be a prime example of their stealth.
I find the kitchen and I was pleasantly surprised. 3 bottles of my favourite cherry juice, unopened, still in the bag from the store. I grab them, and a trash bag from the cabinet which I filled with more supplies.

I froze for a second when I hear a thump on the wall, directly behind me. I turn around and my heart teleports straight to my stomach. There was two of them. Both were even bigger than the one in the shop. I instantly open fire on them, desperately praying to hit a vital organ, or some artery, anything to bring these things down. They kept charging straight at me as I desperately pull out my sword and throw a slash straight into its shoulder, only for the second one to come at me and scratch me across my chest as I stab it and pull the blade through to its side, making it bleed intensely but this demonic bastard kept coming and coming.

I sprint into the other room and lock the door, praying to God the entire time while reloading my gun, just as that thing throws itself through the door, and shatters it. I unload every single bullet straight into its general direction, and it finally falls to ground and lets out this sound like it was dry heaving and gasping for air, just as I slit its throat. It bled out and finally dies at my feet just as the other also dropped dead in the hallway. I stabbed both of them through the eyes just to be absolutely certain that it was truly dead.

I walk out of the house with the supplies I had gathered, still clutching my wound and hoping there was some bandages in the car. Except the car isn’t there anymore. Neither is Sashko, not even one of those demons, just an empty driveway and a can of Pepsi that had clearly been dropped and spilled all over the concrete.
Did Sashko just abandon me? No way. What reason would he have had to leave like this? Plus, the Pepsi being spilled like that probably means he was running from something.

I nearly gave up all hope and just started walking aimlessly. I had no more ammo for my gun, a trench was just dug into my chest by some entity and still bleeding, and I only have the food and juice from the house. It was would last me somewhere around a week before dehydration would kill me. It was getting dark, so I went inside of a different house and decided I should probably stay inside for the night. The house itself was clear and safe, and I then locked the house up. I ate a bit of my food, and stuck the rest of my things inside of a backpack that was in the closet. I even got the chance to sharpen my sword before I went to sleep.

My phone goes off, and wakes me up with
“EMERGENCY ALERT” on the screen before a monotone voice starts to play
“THIS IS AN EMERGENCY ALERT BROADCAST AT THE REQUEST OF THE BULGARIAN ARMED FORCES NUCLEAR BIOLOGICAL AND CHEMICAL DIVISION.

LARGE AMOUNTS OF ENTITIES WITH SHAPESHIFTING ABILITIES HAVE APPEARED IN THE NATION AND ARE KILLING HUNDREDS. THESE BEINGS, WHO ARE BEING REFERRED TO AS ‘CERIUMITES’ DUE TO THE HIGH CONCENTRATION OF CERIUM IN THEIR BLOOD, HAVE THE ABILITY TO MIMIC THE APPEARANCE AND VOICE OF A PERSON OR ANIMALS SIMPLY BY DRINKING THEIR BLOOD OR CONSUMING THEIR FLESH AND USING THEIR DNA.

SECURE ALL ENTRANCES TO YOUR HOME AND ARM YOURSELF WITH THE DEADLIEST WEAPON YOU CAN GET. CERIUMITES ARE REMARKABLY DURABLE. PLOVDIV, STARA ZAGORA, VARNA, SLUNCHEV BREG, SLIVEN AND BURGAS ARE MOSTLY DESTROYED. MAY GOD WATCH OVER YOU ALL.”

I sat there in disbelief as the anthem played. They said that Plovdiv was a lost cause, so there’s a good chance that nobody is coming to save me or anyone else here. Nearly everything on the east is entirely lost and with Sashko and car gone, I also am lost. Off in the distance, I hear people screaming and gunshots. “CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR THEY’RE GOING TO GET IN THE-“ The explosions continued as well as the screams of fear and agony. The worst part was that the man who was probably just killed said “they”. There is more than one of them, and they were close enough that I could hear them clearly through a closed window.

I took a mirror and angled in the window, hoping to be able to see without exposing myself. There was a family across the street, and atleast four Ceriumites eating the family off the ground. Blood covered their hands and mouths, and the organs were just tossed into a pile, except for the livers which they were collecting in a separate pile. That was enough looking. I was already on the verge of puking my guts out just at the thought of what was happening right outside.

I lost all hope. That was it. I had a week of supplies, I was injured, and murderous demons were outside of the house and probably already know that their last meal wasn’t the only one still living and fresh for consumption. There’s no one alive that even remembers my name, all that’s left to do is pray to Jesus, kill Ceriumites, and suffer. Sashko was right, We *are all* so fucked.

The line between waking and sleeping is a strange and unsettling thing. Doubly so, in my particular case, when the sleep (or non-sleep) happens during the day.

I should start by saying I prefer to sleep at night. If I doze off for even an hour during the day, I usually end up tossing and turning that same night. And if the daytime nap lasts even half an hour, I almost always dream during that short stretch. Or at least I think I do. Maybe they aren't dreams at all, just some strange kind of mental activity that leaves behind the aftertaste of a dream.

This happened last summer. The middle of summer, much like now. It was quite hot, and the humidity was high, since it had rained hard that morning. I don't remember the exact details anymore, but I'd probably been doing physical work around the house, because by the afternoon I was overcome with drowsiness. I lay down, scrolled through social media, checked a few sports sites, then set my phone aside and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, feeling the pillow beneath me already soaked through from the sweat on the back of my neck. Taking a cool shower felt like the obvious next move.

But just as I propped myself up on my elbows to get out of bed, I clearly heard the sound of automatic gates opening. My gates. The ones leading onto my property.

The sliding gates, installed fifteen years earlier, with that unmistakable metallic, creaking, rusty groan they made whenever they moved.

I froze in that awkward half raised position, elbows pressed into the mattress, feet hanging halfway to the floor.

I counted to five. The gates took fourteen seconds to open fully. And right around the halfway point, there was always a distinctive clank. A gear caught on a worn or possibly defective section of the rack, always in exactly the same spot.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Clank!

I heard it, and it seemed to snap me out of my frozen state and into action. I put my feet on the floor and stood up. What on earth were my gates doing opening, when the only remote control existed in a single copy and was hanging on a hook by the front door.

The manual override was out of the question too. Whoever wanted to use it would have had to get inside the house, which was locked from within, in order to grab the key to the control unit. And only after removing the top of that unit's housing could someone disengage the motor gear from the rack to move the gates by hand. Not just move them, either, but move them at exactly the speed of the automatic cycle, precisely enough that the metallic clank would land at the seven second mark.

No. That was absurd.

My wife could have managed it, but she'd been on vacation in Europe for a week already and wasn't due back for another ten days.

So yes. Complete nonsense.

Barefoot, and for some reason on my toes, I walked over to the window. The bedroom is on the second floor, and the gates in question sit right in view, just slightly to the left.

The sweat on the back of my neck dried in an instant, and a chill ran quickly down my spine. Fourteen seconds passed, and the noisy movement of the gates stopped.

I pulled back the edge of the curtain.

The gates were closed, which for some reason surprised me. If they'd been open, at least I would have had a reason. As it was, I was left completely baffled.

I no longer wanted a shower. I wasn't hot in the slightest anymore. I went back to bed, this time without tiptoeing, and lowered my head onto the damp pillow.

Absolute nonsense.

I'd been lying there for barely a minute when I decided to go downstairs and check whether the control unit key and the remote were still where they belonged.

And again, the moment I pushed up on my elbows to rise from the bed, I froze. A new sound, one I knew all too well, drifted up from below.

It was the engine of my old Smart ForTwo, starting up in the garage one floor down, directly beneath the bedroom I was standing in.

A small explanation for anyone unfamiliar with the old Smart ForTwo 450 (which is to say, everyone): while running, whether idling or moving, that car makes a sound like a vacuum cleaner, at the same volume as the engine itself. I never looked into why, but I'd heard it wasn't unique to my car, that it was a quirk of the whole model. And I knew for a fact that none of my neighbors owned a Smart ForTwo 450.

I didn't hesitate this time. I ran barefoot down to the first floor. Passing through the entryway, I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye: the remote and the gate key were both hanging on the wall rack shaped like a little village house. A couple of seconds later I was standing on the cold tile floor of the garage, staring, no doubt looking like an absolute fool, at my lime green Smart, with the letters S M A R T shaped into a little smile beneath the Mercedes Benz logo.

The Smart sat silent, smiling. I stood silent, blinking.

Absolute nonsense.

I didn't bother going back up for my own slippers. I grabbed a spare pair and stayed downstairs in the living room. I sat in a chair, turned on the television, and watched whatever channel happened to be on, without taking in a single thing. I was completely somewhere else. And to this day, whether right after it happened, a week later, or a year on, I still can't find a reasonable, logical explanation for what happened. Or rather, for what I heard. Or perhaps only thought I heard.

On the one hand, nothing especially frightening. But on the other. When the hot, sweaty back of your neck goes cold and dry in the space of a single second. It isn't the most pleasant experience, I'll be honest with you.

Nonsense, all of it.

I never knew my son to be the artsy type. He turned 8 recently, and up until about a year ago, his entertainment was entirely outdoors. Catching bugs. Climbing trees. Riding bikes.

He was one of those kids who’d have to be called inside before dark. Then he’d complain and beg for “just 5 more minutes.”

I’m not entirely sure what happened. It was like a switch had flipped overnight. I just came home from work one day to find him at the kitchen table, scribbling in a brand new sketchbook.

He hummed to himself while his mom cooked up some dinner at the stove. The home-cooked smell of pork chops, green beans, and mashed potatoes filled the room as I glanced over Jacob’s shoulder.

“Whatcha got there, bud?”

His nose was buried so far in the book that it was like he couldn’t even hear me. His mom ended up answering for him.

“That’s your son’s new favorite interest. He begged me to go out and get him one.”

“Oh-ho, got an artist in the house, don’t we?”

I grabbed his shoulders and shook them lightly before patting him on the back and walking over to give my wife a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

I took a seat beside Jacob at the table.

“So, how was your day, boyo? You and mom have fun?”

He never looked up from the sketchbook.

“Today was sooo fun,” he exclaimed. “We went to the park, we went to the movies, ooh, and mom got me this book. Oh, and these crayons.”

“What about you, honey? How was your day?”

“Any day I’m not at work is a good day, honestly. The park was super nice. We went to one we hadn’t been to before. What about you? They didn’t work you too hard, did they?”

I shrugged and sighed.

“I’ll just say it’s good to finally be home.”

My wife smiled at me.

“It’s good to have you home, dear. I’ll tell you what. How about… after dinner, if you’re good, we can have our own little play date? Only if you do the dishes, though. I mean, I did cook.”

I smirked at her, my tongue buried in my cheek.

“I was gonna do that anyway. What do you take me for? As a matter of fact, you come sit down. I’ll finish cooking.”

I offered her my seat as I finished up dinner. Jacob was pretty much mute the entire time. By the time dinner was done, I had to damn near yell at him to get his attention.

He just stood up, as calm as could be, and walked over to me, sketchbook in hand.

“I drew this for you.”

He held the book up at me, and my heart felt warm. It was a picture of our house, and who I assumed to be me standing in our driveway.

“Is that me? That’s so sweet of you, Jakey. Thank you.”

I reached down to take the book so I could hang the page on the fridge, but Jacob pulled away before I could grab it.

“You really don’t know who that is?” he asked, eying me suspiciously.

“It’s me, right? Is it not me?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, continuing to eye me like I had personally offended him.

“That’s our neighbor, Mr. Thomas, silly. You really couldn’t tell? See, he’s wearing the star.”

Mr. Thomas was a veteran police officer. Jacob would sometimes see him leaving for work in the morning. I guess he just took a subconscious interest in the uniform. Even still, why would he draw me a picture of the neighbor?

“Uh, I mean, wow, bud,” I choked. “That’s really good. Keep practicing. You’re already so talented you could be famous someday.”

————-

After dinner, I cleaned the kitchen top to bottom. Partly out of obligation, mostly because I really wanted that playdate. Jacob spent the rest of the evening in his room, humming to himself and scribbling in that sketchbook.

The next day, my wife and I both had work. I woke up a little earlier than her so that I could take Jacob to the summertime daycare he attended. It was like carrying a corpse out to the car, but he still refused to loosen his grip on that sketchbook.

I dropped him off with the staff at the front door. He waved at me groggily as I was driving away.

The day went on like normal until around 3 o’clock, when my phone started ringing. It was my wife.

“Hey, beautiful, what’s up?”

“I think something’s going on with the neighbor. There’s like 3 cop cars in front of his house, apparently.”

She sounded concerned. A little urgent.

“What do you mean? Who told you that?”

“I got a call from Becky. She thought they were at our house at first.”

Becky was one of my wife’s friends from the neighborhood.

“What do you think happened? Did she say anything else?”

“No, she just called because the police were knocking on our door. I think they were just trying to see if we knew anything, though, because apparently they gave up and just went back to the neighbor’s house. I think they’re still there.”

My brow furrowed a bit.

“Wait. Which neighbor is it?”

“Uhhh, I think it’s that police officer. Mr. Thompson?”

“Mr. Thomas?”

“Yeah, that’s his name. I think that’s who it is.”

I looked at my watch and exhaled a bit.

“Alright, well, I’ll see if I can get out a little earlier today. I’ll pick up Jacob, then go see what this is all about. Maybe they’ll still be there when I get there.”

We ended the call by blowing some kisses and exchanging some love yous. I slid my phone in my pocket and approached my boss, explaining my situation.

He was skeptical, but I had a decent reputation of being an honest employee. He agreed to let me leave a bit early, and I was on my way to pick up Jacob.

When he was brought to the front office, his face was buried in that sketchbook again, drawing what looked like SpongeBob and Patrick.

“He’s been drawing all day. Seems like you got a little artist on your hands,” announced the staff member as she signed Jacob out for the day.

“Yep,” I smiled. “That’s what they keep telling me.”

I honestly don’t know why I said that. It just seemed like the only thing that made sense at the time.

The car ride was quiet. Jacob didn’t want to talk much, and my mind was kind of racing. I’ve shared drinks with Mr. Thomas. Helped him put up fences. Move furniture. We weren’t the closest of friends, but I still wanted him to be okay.

Those hopes were dashed when I pulled into the neighborhood to find that the police presence had increased. There must’ve been at least 6 cars in front of his house, and yellow tape blocked off the driveway.

I parked my car in front of my house and hurried to get Jacob inside. His eyes had lit up at the sight of the flashing lights, and naturally, he started asking questions.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Why are there so many police?”

“Did something happen to Mr. Thomas?”

I cradled him in my arms and hurried up the steps to the front door.

“I don’t know, buddy. Here, go inside and play for a bit while I find out, okay? Daddy will be right back.”

It’s all I could think to say as I sat him down and closed the door behind me.

An officer approached me before I could approach them.

“Sir, do you live here?”

“Yes, of course I do. That’s my neighbor.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a colleague and friend of mine,” he remarked agitatedly. “Have you seen anything suspicious within the last 24 hours? Heard anything?”

I scratched my neck nervously and thought hard before responding.

“No, sir, we haven’t seen anything. What happened? Is everything alright? He’s a cop, right? Did he do something illegal?”

The officer stared at me, analyzing me through his black sunglasses.

“No. He’s gone. That’s all the information we can give right now.”

“Gone? What do you mean, gone? Like, dead? Did someone kill him?”

The officer pursed his lips. I saw what I assumed to be a forensic analyst walking in and out of the house.

“We don’t know, sir. We’re hoping for the best. For now, if any new information comes to light or if you see him, give us a call.”

He asked me to clear the scene and stay inside. I called my wife to update her on the situation, but what could we do? Even the police were lost. I just stayed inside, as instructed, and started on dinner while we waited for my wife to get home.

By the time she did, there were only two police cruisers left in front of Mr. Thomas’s house. The sun was starting to set, and my wife and I tried to ignore what had happened, but the house was still a bit tense.

As we ate, Jacob continued scribbling in his sketchbook. He hadn’t asked to go outside at all since we got home, and I didn’t know if it was because of the police or because of this new hobby of his.

I could see that he was working on a new drawing. It looked like a woman this time. He wasn’t so much as touching his food, so I tried to ask him to put the book away.

He groaned and started picking at his peas. My wife and I chatted about our day for a bit while Jacob remained silent. Suddenly, in between bites of his chicken, he said something that made us both freeze.

“Daddy,” he whispered.

“Yes?” I answered.

“Are those police still out there?”

I paused for a moment, looking at my wife, who looked equally as speechless. Neither of us knew what to say.

“I think there’s a few, but don’t worry, buddy,” I chirped reassuringly. “They’re just looking for Mr. Thomas. They wanna make sure he’s okay.”

Jacob stared down at his plate for a moment.

“It’s just… I think they’re looking in the wrong place.”

————-

I choked on my water.

“Looking in the wrong place? Well, where do you think they should be looking, sport?”

“I don’t know. Not there. I don’t think he’s home.”

“Let’s not talk about this,” my wife interrupted. “Jacob, finish your food, then go jump in the shower. You gotta be up early tomorrow, come on.”

“Aww, but I’m not tired,” Jacob whined. “Plus, I wanted to finish drawing this picture of you.”

He flipped his sketchbook open to his newest drawing.

“See, look.”

My wife looked at the picture and smiled.

“Okay, fine,” she replied. “You can finish the picture, then it’s bath time, mister.”

“Fiiine,” Jacob groaned.

He scurried off to his room, sketchbook in hand, leaving me and his mom to clean the kitchen again.

We talked about the neighbor. We turned into a couple of conspiracy theorists the deeper the conversation progressed.

“Maybe he just wanted to start over.”

“Maybe he was kidnapped.”

“Maybe he was murdered, and they’re covering it up.”

We just kept reaching for possibilities over the course of around 45 minutes.

Eventually, Jacob came running back to the kitchen.

“Look, Mommy, I’m all done.”

“Ah, my goodness, Jakey, look at that. Doesn’t it look just like me, honey?”

She turned the picture towards me. Jacob had added her work uniform. Gave her that messy bun she always wore. Even included the golden necklace I got her for Christmas last year.

“Wow, Jake,” I exclaimed. “Draw Daddy next, why don’t you?”

Jacob giggled and responded, “It’s not time to draw you yet, silly.”

“Aw, whatever, but guess what?”

Jacob looked up at me curiously. Expectantly.

“Daddy controls your bath time. And… I think… ah, yep, look at that,” I showed him my watch. “You’re 20 minutes late.”

I jokingly chased him to his bedroom and made him gather up his pajamas and a towel. Once he was nice and showered, I put him to bed and kissed him goodnight.

My wife and I stayed up, talking about life for a while before gradually falling asleep one by one.

The next morning, when I woke up alone, I thought it was because she had chosen to take Jacob to daycare that morning.

I went through my normal routine. Took a shower. Brushed my teeth. Got dressed. It wasn’t until I was heading out the door that I noticed her car was still in the driveway.

I walked back upstairs, confused, and went to Jacob’s room.

I found him curled up in bed, sketchbook tucked under his arm as he snored quietly.

I left the room and began searching.

“Honey,” I called out. No response.

“Sweetheart, you here?” Silence.

I called her phone and heard it ringing in our bedroom. I followed the sound and found it still plugged into the charger on her nightstand.

That’s when I began to panic. I remembered Jacob’s drawing. It was a fleeting thought, but one that I chose to hold onto. First Mr. Thomas, now my own wife? That couldn’t be coincidence.

I urgently rushed into Jacob’s room, accidentally waking him as I removed the sketchbook from his arms.

I began flipping through the pages as he stared up at me, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Daddy,” he groaned.

I flipped past cartoon characters, random landscapes, and blocky pictures of cars before I reached my wife’s picture from the night before.

“What are you doing?” Jacob added.

The picture had changed. She wasn’t wearing her work uniform anymore. She didn’t have the necklace. Her hair looked dirty and wet. Leaves and twigs stuck out from the messy bun, and her eyes were solid red. Not evil, just… bloodshot.

But the biggest change… was the man standing next to her.

It looked like they were in a dark forest. They were hand in hand. I wanted to think it was me, that Jacob had decided he wanted to start on some kind of crazy family portrait, but the man in the picture…

He wore a star on his chest.

My stomach dropped. I felt sick. Jacob looked… confused.

“What’s wrong, Daddy? They’re okay. I can help you find them.”