Aaron had always been good at reading people. It wasn't that he was particularly sociable, but he had learned early on that understanding people's motivations was the key to getting ahead. A glance, a shift in posture, a carefully chosen word-he could tell when someone was lying or when they were hiding something. It was a skill he'd honed over years of watching, listening, and carefully keeping his distance from the chaos that surrounded him.
So when the world started to change, when things began to feel... off, Aaron didn't panic. He didn't scream. He didn't immediately run toward the unknown. Instead, he observed.
It started with his phone. The buzz in his pocket was like any other, a quick vibration, something that had become background noise in his life. But this time, when he looked at the screen, the words were different. His best friend Sam had sent him a message: "Get ready. It's happening."
Aaron's brow furrowed. He was about to text back, maybe throw in a joke or a quip about how Sam had some wild imagination, when another notification popped up. This one was from an unknown number, a strange, static-filled message:
"The game begins now. Prepare yourself."
His eyes narrowed. The phone buzzed in his hand again, but this time, it didn't feel right. It felt like... like something was changing. The air around him was heavier, thicker, like the very fabric of the world was shifting. He glanced around his bedroom-a small, dimly lit room filled with books, old movie posters, and clutter-and noticed nothing seemed the same.
No. This wasn't the normal oddity of a prank. There was something about the text. Something about the message that made his stomach twist. He swiped to answer, but before he could type anything, his phone went dead.
A cold, hollow silence spread through the apartment. The hum of city life from outside suddenly stopped. No distant car engines. No passing footsteps. Just... nothing. Alex's fingers froze on the dead screen, staring at it like it might come to life again if he just willed it. But then it happened-something that made the air itself ripple.
The floor beneath him shuddered.
The tremor was subtle at first, just a light vibration beneath his feet, like a train passing far in the distance. But then it intensified-so much that the glass of water on his desk rattled and spilled over. The walls seemed to bend inwards, and the room around him felt like it was shrinking.
What the hell is going on?
His mind clicked into overdrive, sorting through every possible scenario. Earthquake? No, the tremor wasn't natural. Some kind of gas leak? But then why would everything go dead silent? No, this was something different. Something... deliberate.
Before Aaron could process the thought, the ground split.
One moment, he was standing in his room, the next, the floor beneath him opened up as though the earth itself had decided to swallow him whole. His body was ripped away from his senses in an instant, his stomach lurching, his hands grasping for something-anything-to hold onto. The cold wind whipped against his face, and his mind raced to understand what was happening.
He couldn't see anything clearly. The world around him became a blur, a dark spiral of shifting shadows and broken light. But through the confusion, one thing stood out-a voice.
"Welcome to the Horror Game World."
The voice echoed in his mind like an alien whisper, vibrating his very bones. It wasn't a physical sound. It wasn't coming from anywhere in the room. It was inside him-like an intrusive thought, but loud and undeniable.
His pulse quickened, his heart hammering in his chest. Panic? Maybe. But not for long. Aaron was no stranger to danger, and this felt like... a game. A game he wasn't prepared to lose. He might not know where he was, but he could already feel the mental gears turning. He wasn't going to be some scared, helpless pawn in whatever this was.
When the world finally stopped spinning, Aaron found himself standing on solid ground again-or something that felt like ground. His legs wobbled for a second, but he steadied himself with a deep breath, focusing on the new environment.
He wasn't in his apartment anymore.
The air was thick, humid, and smelled like wet earth and rot. Above him, the sky was a sickly shade of green, swirling with heavy clouds that seemed to pulse with unnatural energy. The ground beneath him was cracked and uneven, as though it had been ravaged by some violent force. There was a faint hum in the air, like static, and the whole place felt... off.
Aaron's mind raced, assessing everything around him. The landscape was barren. No buildings, no people. Only the jagged earth and what looked like a series of twisted, blackened trees scattered in the distance. Shadows moved among them, too swift and silent to be natural creatures. Ghosts?
He wasn't sure, but his instincts told him that fear was the wrong emotion to lean on right now. Adapt. Observe. Survive.
He scanned the horizon. Something was wrong, something big. But he wasn't in a rush to figure it out. First, he needed information. This wasn't just some random catastrophe-it was deliberate. A game, the voice had said. If this was a game, then it had rules. And Aaron wasn't about to play by the rules of some invisible force without understanding the stakes first.
A distant rumble echoed through the air, followed by a guttural, unnatural growl. Aaron's eyes narrowed as he focused on the source of the sound. There, in the distance, was a figure. No, more than one-many. They seemed humanoid at first, but there was something off about them. The way they moved, too smooth, too fluid-like their bodies were made of shadow rather than flesh.
Aaron didn't move. He wasn't afraid. Not yet. Not until he understood what he was up against.
Let them come to me. I'll see what they want.
But before he could process any more, another crackling voice filled the air, cutting through the oppressive silence like a whip.
"You have been selected. You are now a participant. The game begins."
Aaron tilted his head, analyzing the words. Selected-not "chosen" or "forced," but selected. There was something almost clinical about the way the message had been delivered, like this was all predetermined, an experiment, or a trial.
That was good. It meant this game had rules. And he was going to find them.
From the shadows, a figure stepped forward-tall, almost unnaturally so, with glowing eyes that stared directly at him. It wasn't human. Not entirely.
But Aaron didn't flinch.
"Are you here to fight?" he asked, his voice steady.
The figure paused. The air thickened.
"The game isn't about fighting." The voice was eerie, disembodied, but strangely calm. "It'saboutsurvival."
Aaron smirked. Survival. That was what he did best.