"I left the paperwork on your desk."
"Okay."
"See you tomorrow, then."
"See you."
...
As John left work, the clock marked 8 p.m. He had stayed so late because he'd missed a few days—his mother had died. He carried a briefcase that had the logo of William T., one of the most prestigious law firms in the country, the case they had given him was worth millions—he couldn't screw up. If he did they wouldn't just fire him—they'd bury him.
Making his way toward the subway, he glanced up at the sky while adjusting his glasses out of habit. Since it was mid-November, the sun had set hours ago. If it were summer, maybe he'd have still caught the tail end of the sunset. Because it was cold and he wasn't wearing a jacket, he gave a final glance at the full moon and rushed into the subway.
Catching the train with the name of his city on it, he found an empty seat and sat down. Checking his inbox, a new message had arrived.
"HAPPY 23RD BIRTHDAY" was writen in capital letters.
"Hmm? What's this?"
John was genuinely confused. There shouldn't have been anyone who knew of his birthday. He had cut contact with most of his aunts and uncles, and any so-called "friends" had drifted off long ago.
Cutting off his thoughts, a violent jolt nearly threw him out of his seat.
"The hell? Is it an earthquake?"
As if to answer his questions with a no, a thunderous explosion echoed in the distance, and the night sky turned a deep crimson red. With the full moon at its center, the scene looked like something out of a horror movie.
The train came to an emergency stop, and the doors opened. Getting out and seeing what looked like the apocalypse, people began screaming; the more religious started murmuring prayers. Stepping off the train, John stood speechless. He was terrified, but he knew that screaming wouldn't help. As for praying—he was never a believer to begin with, but now he was starting to question that.
Another tremor shook the earth, snapping him out of his thoughts. Out of nowhere, massive chunks of earth began to rise into the air. Some of these chunks had people standing on them. Panicked, some jumped off; others remained frozen in place. Those who jumped found no safety—within seconds, the floating chunks had already climbed more than 60 meters into the sky.
John just stood there. He wanted to run, but where would he go? The same thing was happening everywhere.
Then, everything stopped. The earth stopped shaking. The people stopped screaming. The chunks stopped ascending and hovered motionless in thin air. The whole world seemed to grow silent, a silence that gave John chills.
Suddenly, the floating chunks smashed together, crushing anyone and anything still on them, forming a single solid cuboid block.
Then the block started to descend.
When it landed, it began to crumble, revealing a massive statue of a right hand, pointing toward the sky. With the crimson moon standing behind the statue, even though the apocalypse was unfolding in front of him, John could only think of one word,
"Beautiful"
A second later, like someone pressed the unmute button, you could hear a woman screaming and some children crying.
Amid the chaos and muffled screams, a gentle, almost soothing voice murmured in John's ears. He couldn't make out the words, but he felt that if he got just a little closer to the statue, he might understand it better.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
With each step, his pace quickened. Arriving at the base of the statue, John stood there, dumbstruck.
He knew the statue would be massive, but seeing it in person was something else. It appeared to be around 90 meters tall. The sheer level of detail was mind-blowing.
He could see the veins... the texture of the nails, and that of the skin. It looked so alive.
But he knew better—he had watched it form itself from dirt, rock, and blood.
Even though he stood so close, he still couldn't make out the murmurs echoing in his ears. And somehow, that hurt. The not-knowing was killing him. He needed to understand. The longing grew so intense that it felt like his brain might burst open from it.
Without knowing why, he felt that the only logical thing to do was to touch the statue.
He reached out his hand.
His fingertips making contact with the cold, hard surface—
—and in an instant, he vanished from where he stood.