The night market

Fractures-part 1

Chike arrived at the location, a local cemetery, just before midnight. The air is unnaturally still, no wind or insects.

The lights flicker on and off, then they die. Chike stood at the gate, his fingers tightly coiled around the coin, which had started humming, in his pocket. The cemetery was abandoned, and not even a security guard was in sight. The city noise — traffic, generators, loud conversations—had gone silent as if the whole city had taken one long breath.

Instead, he could hear the humming of the coin in his pocket getting louder, vibrating through his bones and guiding him forward like a leash. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside the cemetery. The moment his foot touched the cracked stone path, the gate behind him slammed shut on its own.

He spun around, his heart racing. Nothing. No wind, no movement.

The coin hummed violently, and he took it out of his pocket. It pulsed a cold blue glow, and a narrow trail lit up between the gravestones, snaking deeper into the darkness.

"This is insane," he whispered. Yet, his legs moved anyway.

Following the path, he walked past nameless slabs and crooked crosses. Shadows stretched too far, bending in unnatural directions. He felt he was being watched by something far older than ghosts or spirits.

Halfway down the path, the ground beneath him trembled. A low hum seeped out of the earth, and the world shifted.

The Night Market has emerged.

Gravestones dissolved into rows of stalls

Lanterns blinked into existence overhead

The smell of damp earth turned into the familiar mix of smoke, spices and something rotten.

Chike staggered and turned halfway back towards the path, but the cemetery was gone.

Defeated, he turned back and looked around the market. Immediately, he sensed it. Something felt wrong.

The stalls leaned at impossible angles. The vendors' shadows stretched out like claws, and every face he glimpsed flickered — as if reality itself was glitching.

A whisper travelled down the narrow aisle, brushing against his ear with icy breath:

"Welcome back, journalist."

Chike turned shakily and saw the Messenger, standing a few feet away, his eyes glowing faintly. His face flickered like a bad video feed, as if he were only half in this world.

"You came. Now we begin."

The ground cracked beneath Chike's feet, revealing a spiral of mirrors glowing in the darkness below.

The Messenger gestured.

"Memory Lane awaits."

Chike's chest tightened. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but the oath was already forming under him, pulling him in.

And before he could take a breath, he fell straight into his first fractured memory.