The Crack in the Walls
Rain came down in sheets over Star Valley, thick and relentless, turning the streets into blurred rivers of gray. Thunder rolled low and steady, not violent, just constant, like the sky had decided to press down on the town for the day. The kind of rain that kept most people home. But not Jason. Not his mom.
Inside Universal Taste, warmth pushed back against the storm. Ovens hummed, trays slid in and out, sugar glazed under soft lights. The scent of cinnamon and butter wrapped around the café like armor. Rain pounded the windows, but inside, it felt alive. Busy.
Jason moved behind the counter with practiced rhythm, boxing pastries, handling the register, wiping his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder. His mother worked beside him, flour dusting her sleeves as she shaped dough with calm precision. Analisa stood at the front register, curls pulled back today, laughing lightly as she handed change to a customer. She fit there easily, like she'd always belonged behind that counter.
In the far corner, Dante and Artemis sat with the neighbor kids, controllers in hand, arguing over whose turn it was. Their voices blended with the low music playing from overhead speakers. They looked like normal twelve-year-olds, competitive and loud in bursts, completely absorbed in their small world. Artemis even smiled once, brief but real.
Across the café sat Syd and her friends, clustered around two small tables pushed together. Backpacks piled at their feet, drinks sweating onto napkins, conversation flowing freely. Jason glanced over instinctively, the protective habit never fading. That's when he noticed it.
Under the table, barely visible, Syd's hand intertwined with Lila's.
Subtle. Hidden. Comfortable.
Jason's eyes lifted slowly to Syd's face. She was mid-laugh, but she felt his stare. Their gazes locked for a second. He didn't say anything. He just smirked knowingly, one brow lifting slightly. Syd's eyes widened before she playfully waved him off with her free hand, silently telling him to mind his business.
He turned back to the counter, the corner of his mouth still tilted.
For a rainy day, everything felt steady again. The storm outside only made the inside warmer. The café buzzed softly with conversation and clinking dishes. It almost made the town feel safe.
Almost.
The door slammed open.
It wasn't the normal chime-and-swing of a customer escaping the rain. It burst inward with violent force, wood cracking against the stopper. Wind howled through the opening, rain spraying across the floor in sharp streaks.
A man stood in the doorway.
His clothes were soaked. Torn. His posture crooked like something had bent him wrong.
Jason's eyes locked onto him immediately.
The man's hands were gone. Not bleeding. Not freshly cut. Just… gone at the wrists, like erased. His eyes—
Wood.
Not brown. Not hazel. Not human. Splintered grain filled his sockets, jagged and layered like bark carved into spheres. They stared directly at Jason. Unblinking.
No one else reacted.
Not the customers. Not Syd. Not the twins.
The man took one slow step forward. Water dripped from his sleeves, but it wasn't clear. It was dark. Thick. It hit the floor with heavy taps.
Cracks began forming along the café walls. Thin at first. Then spreading. The sound was subtle but wrong, like something splitting beneath paint. From those cracks, liquid seeped downward in slow trails, black and syrupy. It smelled like wet soil and rot.
The man tilted his head unnaturally.
Still staring only at Jason.
Jason couldn't breathe. His chest tightened violently as if invisible fingers had wrapped around his lungs. The café sounds dulled into distant echoes. The wooden eyes seemed to widen, splinters shifting and flexing like they were alive.
Then—
Blink.
The door was closed.
The walls were clean.
The floor was dry.
Customers chatted normally. Rain tapped gently against the windows instead of screaming.
Everything was fine.
Jason stumbled back, gripping the counter hard enough for his knuckles to pale. His breath came in sharp pulls, chest rising too fast. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs like it was trying to escape.
Analisa noticed immediately. She stepped close, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. "Jason? Hey. Are you okay?"
Her voice was grounded. Real.
He swallowed hard, forcing air into his lungs. The café looked normal. Smelled normal. Sounded normal.
He nodded once. Then again, slower. "Yeah. Just… dizzy."
She studied him, concern clear, but she didn't push. "Go sit down for a second."
"I'm good." His voice came out rough. He cleared his throat. "Bathroom. I'll be right back."
He walked quickly, but not so fast it drew attention. The hallway felt longer than usual. The hum of the café faded as he pushed into the restroom and locked the door behind him.
Silence.
Rain tapped against the small window above the sink.
Jason gripped the edges of the counter and stared at his reflection. His skin looked pale beneath the fluorescent light. His eyes sharper. Wilder.
He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto his face. Once. Twice. He let it drip down his jaw before bracing himself against the sink again.
"What the hell was that," he muttered under his breath.
The mirror didn't answer.
But for a fraction of a second—barely there—the reflection seemed delayed. Like it blinked a split second after he did.
Jason froze.
Then it corrected itself. Perfectly synced. Normal.
He leaned closer to the mirror, studying his own eyes. Human. Brown. Steady.
He knew one thing for certain now.
Whatever was in this town—whatever lived in those woods—it wasn't hiding anymore. It wasn't content with distant watching. It had stepped inside. Stood in front of him. Looked at him directly.
It was getting bolder.
More confident.
And worst of all—
It knew he could see it.