You know how even when the sun is shining brightly, the moon may still be present, a pale disk in the background, ever so close yet impossibly far from the sun's scorching embrace.
The moon hung in the sky now, slowly turning crimson, then blinked. Red embers flared to life on Owen's right hand, as if something within him was burning. Yet, instead of panic, a strange calm settled over him, quicker than ever before.
He stared at his hand, bewildered by the sudden warmth coursing through him. The glowing embers danced playfully against the fading daylight, creating an otherworldly spectacle that seemed to tug at the very edges of his reality. Was this just a trick of the mind, or was there something more profound happening? Around him, the world continued as if nothing was amiss. Birds flitted between the trees, their songs mingling with the whisper of the wind. Yet, in this moment of stillness, Owen felt a connection to something. It wasn't fear that gripped him now, but a curious anticipation, as if the universe had decided to help him.
Owen took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth radiating from his fingers. The red light flickered gently, and he felt a pulse, almost like a heartbeat, resonating within him. He closed his eyes, and images flashed: the blood-red orb in the sky, then a hurricane that engulfed him in eternal pain and darkness.
"Maybe today is different," he whispered to himself, the words carrying a weight that felt both thrilling and annoying. "These embers remind me of my unusual dream... as if I wasn't weird enough." He opened his eyes, the moon's crimson hue shimmering above him. With a steadiness he didn't know he possessed, Owen placed his palm firmly onto the ground, slowly got up, and looked directly at the red moon, which blinked once more.
His mind went blank in an instant. When his brain came back online, rebooted, he found Mia standing in front of him, her face etched with worry. She had a smile moments ago, he now realized, that had quickly vanished.
"Owen, are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern. The red hue from the moon slowly disappeared, followed by the sunlight casting elongated shadows that danced along the walls of the narrow alley.
He shook his head slightly, trying to shake off the fog that had momentarily clouded his mind. "I... I think so," he replied, his voice hoarse. "What happened?" The question wasn't directed at Mia, but at himself, at the strange events that had just transpired. Mia, however, took it as if it were for her.
"You froze for a while," she explained, her voice slightly strained. "And I saw that gang coming out of here, laughing. I... I came over and found you like this. What were you thinking about?"
Owen swallowed hard. He couldn't tell her about the embers, the red moon, the terrifying dream-memories. He glanced back down the alley, his gaze lingering on the trash pile where he'd been roughed up. "I just felt this overwhelming sense of—"
"Fear?" Mia interrupted gently, her features softening. She didn't even look where he had directed his gaze; the putrid smell clinging to him nauseated her, making her subtly turn her head. "It's okay to feel that way. We're in this together."
He nodded, taking comfort in her presence, the simple fact that she was there. "Yeah, it's just… everything feels so uncertain right now." The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he spoke.
Mia stepped even closer, her expression resolute. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together. Just promise me you won't shut me out."
Owen remembered Alex's taunt before leaving the alley: 'light, huh.' He looked at Mia, her familiar face a beacon in his chaotic life. "I promise," he said firmly. "I won't let fear take over. Not again." He felt Mia's steady presence beside him. He subconsciously looked up at the sky, and there, inexplicably, was the moon, still visible as if it were meant to be there during the day.
Mia was his sole comfort in this hellhole... his light—no, his only best friend.
"Um, can we go? I need to bath. I don't want to dirty you since I fell into that pile of trash," he said, slowly moving a bit away from Mia as he looked at her affectionately.
Mia looked away slightly, a flicker of disgust passing through her eyes, but she quickly took a step closer, held Owen's palm, and gently pulled him. "Let's go then," she said, her hand shuddering almost imperceptibly before going back to normal.
Owen felt like heaven had blessed him today. He didn't even notice the shadow in the corner of the alley, a figure staring at him, a knife gleaming subtly in its hand. It had waited for the right moment, but the opportunity was messed up. This person had remained unnoticed only because they stood perfectly hidden behind a large dumpster in a dark corner. People, even with a dumpster nearby, still chose to dump their trash in random piles, and that's where Owen had fallen.
As Owen and Mia walked away, the hidden figure sighed deeply, the pungent smell of garbage mixed with the hot afternoon air truly annoying them. Emotions churned within them—fear, adrenaline, and a strange sense of excitement. This person had always preferred the quiet corners of the world, places where they could observe rather than be seen. But today was different; an opportunity had been wasted because of "that bitch."
They heard the sounds of distant laughter and hurried footsteps, oblivious to the tension building behind them. Just moments ago, Owen had stumbled upon something he shouldn't have, something that made the stakes much higher than he could have ever anticipated.
Mia shifted beside him, her presence calming him slightly. His heart was beating at a certain rhythm, skipping a few beats. Ah, love... As Mia leaned closer to whisper, "Let's hurry up."
Her voice was barely above a murmur, but it carried an urgency that pierced through the calm surrounding them. Her eyes were tearing up, and she was sniffing quite painfully. Owen, mistaking it for worry over his ordeal, sighed internally. One step at a time.
They quickly reached Mia's house. She gave him the most beautiful smile as she said goodbye, then went to her door, slipped inside, and closed it gently.
Owen staggered towards his own house, just nine houses away. The sun had already set by the time he reached home. The front door was locked, so he could only sigh. He peered into the small hole in the door and saw Lucy inside, triumphantly swinging the house keys on her index finger, a whistle on her lips.
Before Owen could even fully break down, red embers appeared on his right hand once more. This time, they slowly formed a tiny flame, the size of a thumb, on his index finger. He didn't notice it. He just felt an unnatural calm wash over him. He turned and went towards the backyard, approaching the back door. Luckily, it wasn't locked, but he would have to pass through the kitchen, which was problematic.
I really hate this, he thought, his newfound calm barely containing his dread. He slowly opened the door and poked his head inside. Before he could even see what was happening, there was a deafening "COONG!!"
He passed out, simultaneously falling backward and hitting his head hard onto the ground.
Sophia looked at Owen, knocked out cold, then slowly closed the door gently and returned to cooking, as if nothing had happened.