Alex woke up stretched out on his bed, the sun slipping through the cracks of the curtains, painting soft lines across his face. He blinked a couple of times, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and yawned, his mind still fuzzy with the remnants of a half-remembered dream about beating a boss in his favorite game. The room was quiet — not just the usual morning quiet, but the kind that felt like a held breath, waiting for something.
He swung his legs off the bed and shuffled to the kitchen, still half-asleep, reaching for a cold soda in the fridge. That's when he noticed it: a small, torn piece of paper stuck to the fridge door with a magnet. Squinting, he pulled it off and read the faded words scrawled across it: "The answers are hidden where the past meets the present."
Alex stared at the note for a moment, then shrugged. Probably just some leftover nonsense from his mom or maybe a prank he forgot about. He stuffed the paper into his pocket, popped open the soda, and took a long sip, the fizzy cold waking him up a bit more. He didn't think much of it and headed out of the kitchen.
The house felt… off. Too quiet. Usually, there'd be some sound — his mom humming in her room, the TV blaring from the living room, or at least the distant buzz of neighbors getting ready for the day. But today? Silence. Heavy silence.
Still, Alex figured everyone was probably just out early. Maybe the town was sleepy or something. He grabbed his phone to check messages, but the screen stayed blank. No signal. Weird, but he wasn't worried yet. Probably a network issue.
Stepping outside, Alex squinted into the morning sun. The street was deserted. Not a single car, no footsteps, no kids biking or playing. Just empty sidewalks and still houses. He called out, "Mom? Anyone here?" His voice sounded strange bouncing off the empty walls.
He started walking down the street, half-expecting to run into a neighbor or someone walking their dog. But the whole town looked frozen, like a paused movie. Mail piled up on doorsteps. Trash cans untouched. A light breeze stirred fallen leaves, the only sign of movement.
Then he tripped on something near his doorstep. Looking down, he saw an old family photo lying face up on the sidewalk. His heart skipped a beat — it was a picture of him and his mom from years ago, smiling and carefree. On the back, his mom's handwriting: "Remember the old place."
Alex flipped the photo over again, confused but curious. "Old place? What does that mean?" He slipped it into his pocket, his mind buzzing with questions.
A shiver ran down his spine. The more he looked around, the more he noticed how strange everything was. The birds weren't singing. No dogs barking. Even the usual hum of distant traffic was gone. It was like the world had gone silent.
Still, Alex was stubbornly trying to stay calm. "Maybe it's some kind of weird holiday or event," he muttered to himself. "People probably went somewhere for the day."
He wandered further, the empty streets stretching endlessly before him. Shops stood with locked doors, windows dusty and untouched. The park benches sat empty, swings still hanging motionless. The town square's fountain was silent, water stagnant.
At one point, he stopped and looked up at the sky — bright blue, no clouds, no hint of anything unusual up there. Yet, the absence of life everywhere made his skin crawl.
Alex pulled the photo from his pocket and studied it again. A sudden thought struck him: maybe his mom left more clues. Maybe that note on the fridge and the photo were meant to guide him. But why? And where was she?
His phone buzzed suddenly in his hand — or at least, it seemed to. He looked down. Nothing. No notifications, no calls. Just the eerie black screen. He shoved it back in his pocket and decided to head back home.
The house still felt empty, colder somehow, despite the morning sun. He passed by the living room and noticed a faint shimmer on the bookshelf — a small envelope wedged between two old novels. He pulled it out carefully. The envelope was sealed but worn, like it had been there for a while.
With trembling fingers, Alex broke the seal and pulled out a folded letter. The handwriting was unmistakable: his mother's.
The letter read:
"Alex, if you're reading this, it means I wasn't able to explain everything in person. Something terrible has happened to Oakdale. The ritual I was part of went wrong. You are the only one left, but you are not alone. Follow the clues I've left you. The answers are hidden where the past meets the present. Be careful — there are things that want to stop you from fixing this. Trust no one but yourself. And remember, sacrifice might be necessary to make things right."
Alex's breath caught. His eyes flicked around the empty room as if expecting to see his mom step through the door and tell him it was all a bad dream. But no one came.
His hands trembled slightly as he folded the letter back. A thousand questions swirled inside his head. What ritual? What had gone wrong? Why was he the only one left?
And most terrifying of all — what was he supposed to do now?
He sank down onto the couch, the silence pressing in around him like a weight. Outside, the town remained eerily still, a world paused in time, waiting for someone to set things right.
Alex took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He didn't know what lay ahead, but something told him he was about to find out.