Chapter 6: They Can Hear You
701 Words
The sound of his heartbeat was louder than the city.
Kade sat at the edge of his bed, one hand resting on the closed cigarette case as if it might come alive and whisper something else into the silence. His room hadn’t changed—same peeling wallpaper, same flickering ceiling light—but he had. Something had shifted inside him. Or maybe something had been pulled loose.
He didn’t feel like he belonged here anymore. Not in this room. Not in this body.
> “You’re not supposed to be here yet.”
Those words haunted him more than the monsters did. That strange girl in the alternate world—pale skin, eyes like blood and dusk—had spoken like she knew him. Like she was waiting.
Kade dragged a shaky breath into his lungs. His fingers twitched, not from withdrawal, but from that strange burn left behind in his nerves. Like the Drag had scorched its name into his soul.
He opened the cigarette case. The inside was still warm. And even though the cigarette he smoked had burned away completely, the others pulsed faintly—like tiny hearts beating in sync with something far away.
> Why do they glow? Why did it pull me across?
A knock.
No—just the wind.
Kade stood and rubbed his temples. He needed answers. And coffee. Probably both. But first, he had to know if anyone else had seen what he’d seen.
By mid-morning, the city looked the same but felt off—like walking into a dream where everyone wore familiar faces but forgot how to blink. The crowd moved mechanically, footsteps too synchronized, eyes blank. It was subtle, just wrong enough to make the hairs on Kade’s neck stand.
The little corner store he frequented looked dimmer than usual. He stepped inside.
The bell above the door jingled, but the sound seemed muffled, distant. Like it had to travel across dimensions before reaching his ears.
The cashier didn’t look up. He just stood there, back straight, gaze fixed on nothing, like he’d forgotten how to blink too.
Kade hesitated. Then walked to the counter and slowly took one of the glowing cigarettes out of the case.
“Do you sell anything like this?” he asked quietly.
The man’s eyes moved.
Then locked on the cigarette.
The silence stretched. Longer than it should’ve.
The man slowly shook his head. “Put that away,” he muttered. “You’re making them listen.”
Kade’s heart skipped. “What?”
The cashier leaned in, his voice low, eyes haunted. “The ones on the other side. The Drag marks you. When you light it, they hear. They remember the scent. And if you stay in one place too long after... they find you.”
He slid something across the counter—a crumpled scrap of paper.
Kade looked down.
One word.
Scrawled in a shaky hand:
Run.
Before he could react—
The lights flickered.
Then went out completely.
The air turned cold.
Silence fell like a blanket over the city noise, over everything.
Kade’s breath caught in his throat.
And reflected in the fridge glass behind the counter—
Three figures.
Standing silently in the aisle.
Unmoving. Unblinking.
Pale, stretched skin. Hollow eyes. Their heads tilted ever so slightly—listening.
They didn’t breathe.
They didn’t make a sound.
But they were there.
And they were real.
Kade didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
> Are they real? Am I still dreaming?
He turned his head—slow, careful.
The cashier was gone.
No sound. No footsteps. Just vanished.
> Oh, great. Another mystery. Because this wasn’t terrifying enough already.
He backed toward the door, one hand sliding the cigarette case into his pocket, the other slowly reaching for the handle.
One of the figures tilted its head again—like a curious dog sniffing static.
And then—Kade moved.
The bell screamed as he burst through the door and hit the sidewalk running, the sound echoing unnaturally loud in the empty air.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.
But he could feel it.
Something had followed him back from the other side.
And now—
They could hear him.
- Writer
