Cracks In The Frame
1004 Words
The air outside the therapist’s office felt too still, like the world had forgotten how to breathe. Luna pulled her coat tighter around her, even though it wasn’t cold. Not really.
She walked, letting her boots find the familiar path home without thinking. The streets were sleepy this afternoon—too quiet for a Thursday. Shopkeepers glanced at her, then away, in that tight-lipped, too-fast way that made her stomach knot. Like they knew her. Like they knew something she didn’t.
A woman stepped out of a café across the street, cup in hand. She stumbled—coffee arcing through the air, dark liquid slapping the pavement. Luna flinched instinctively.
But when she looked again…
The woman stood perfectly still. No stain. No coffee. No reaction. She walked off, smiling at nothing.
Luna froze.
She turned to glance behind her, pulse ticking just beneath her skin. No one followed. Still, her feet carried her faster.
At the crosswalk, her phone buzzed.
> UNKNOWN NUMBER:
You’re doing better than we expected.
She stopped breathing.
Her thumb trembled as she opened the message. Nothing. No text. No number. Just a blank screen.
Gone.
Her heart raced as she shoved the phone back into her pocket. Get home. Now.
She crossed quickly, weaving through small crowds and dodging the familiar rustle of whispers behind her. She couldn’t make out words—just that unmistakable sensation of being watched. Of being narrated.
Half a block from home, a man leaned against the lamppost. He wore sunglasses even though the sun had dipped behind the clouds. His jaw was too sharp. Smile too slow.
“Luna,” he said softly, like a greeting meant only for her. She didn’t recognize him.
He didn’t follow.
He just watched her walk away.
She didn’t run. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
But her mind screamed the entire way to the door.
***
Luna locked the door behind her with more force than necessary. The click echoed in the silence of her flat.
She didn’t bother turning on the lights. Darkness felt safer.
Her coat hit the floor. Shoes kicked off. She leaned against the door, eyes closed, pulse still racing.
That man had known her name.
And the message.
Her phone now sat quiet on the kitchen table, black screen refusing to show a single trace of what she'd seen. She’d checked it fifteen times. Nothing. Not even a ghost of a notification.
She rubbed her hands over her face, then through her hair, claws threatening to break through her fingernails. Her wolf was pacing again — not loudly, but present. Restless.
It always happened like this. When she was overwhelmed, when the world tilted sideways and no one else noticed… the wolf stirred.
But this was different.
Her skin prickled. Heat simmered just beneath the surface, like embers waiting for breath. Her wolf wasn’t just pacing. She was growling.
Something isn’t right.
She tried to calm her breathing. Tried to meditate like the therapist had said. But the edges of her thoughts curled into ash. The smell of burning lingered just behind her senses — not real, but not imagined either.
She glanced at the mirror above the fireplace.
Her reflection stared back. Eyes tired, hollow. But something shimmered in them — gold threading through the brown, like fire under glass.
She blinked.
Gone.
Her stomach twisted. She hated this. Hated doubting herself. Hated the silence in her apartment, and the invisible eyes that felt like they never left her anymore.
Her wolf huffed, low and impatient. We were not made to live in cages.
“I’m not in a cage,” she whispered aloud. “I’m just... tired.”
But her voice didn’t sound convincing. Not even to herself.
Outside, a siren wailed. Somewhere far off, a dog barked twice. Then silence again.
Her wolf pressed against the edges of her mind — not pushing, not breaking free. Just watching. Waiting.
And for the first time, Luna wasn’t sure if the wolf was protecting her… or preparing for something else entirely.
Luna’s Dream – Before the Fire
She stood in a forest made of smoke.
The trees were charred silhouettes, trunks still glowing orange in places. Ash floated like snow, blanketing the air, silent and thick. Her breath came in clouds, but the heat still licked at her skin — familiar, comforting, terrifying.
She was barefoot. She didn’t remember why. But the ground didn’t burn. It welcomed her.
A howl echoed in the distance — low and mourning, the sound so ancient it carved straight through her ribs.
She turned.
There was someone there. Half-shadow, half-light. His face blurred, but his presence didn’t waver. He stood at the edge of the clearing, just out of reach, just like always.
“You’re late,” he said softly.
“I tried,” she whispered. Her voice cracked.
He stepped forward. The ash didn’t touch him.
“We keep missing each other,” he said. “Lifetime after lifetime. Doorways slammed. Fires started. Time cheated.”
Luna’s throat tightened. “Why?”
He looked up — finally, clearly. Eyes like glacial blue fire. A scar beneath one. A soft sadness on his lips.
“Because you’re always trying to save the world. And I’m always trying to save you.”
His hand reached for hers.
But just before she touched him—
The forest shifted.
Everything blurred like static. A voice — mechanical, unnatural — echoed through the trees.
> “Cut the angle. She’s almost lucid.”
Her blood ran cold.
“What was that?” she breathed.
The man—Ash?—froze. His face began to crack, peel into digital flickers. But his voice stayed real.
“Luna. Wake up.”
She stumbled back.
“Wake up before they find out who you are.”
---
She woke up gasping.
Sweat soaked her shirt. Her sheets tangled around her like vines.
She sat up fast, clutching her chest, heart hammering.
Who was he?
And who the hell was watching?
- Writer
