The Cracks Widen
369 Words
Luna didn’t go home.
She walked — fast and aimless — through streets that suddenly felt too clean. Too symmetrical. Like the city had been reset overnight and no one else noticed.
Everyone was too polished.
The same dog barked on two different streets, two blocks apart. Same leash, same tail wag. Same pattern of barks.
She counted the fire hydrants. Five in a row — identical. Not just similar, identical. Same dent on the side. Same sticker half-peeled.
It wasn’t just déjà vu anymore.
Something was looping.
Glitching.
Lying.
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The Record Store
She ducked into an old record shop she remembered from her teenage years — a dusty place full of snarky hipster clerks and shelves that smelled like vinyl and coffee.
Only… now it was pristine.
No dust. No posters. No clerk.
Just rows of perfectly alphabetized records. Too perfect.
She stepped closer to the nearest shelf.
Under “L” she found a record with no title. Just a label that read:
> “Luna Wolfe — Session 14: Fire Exposure Test”
Her blood ran ice cold.
She turned it over with shaking hands. The back cover was blank — except for a timestamp:
> 00:14:32 – Subject begins full ignition.
The record shook in her fingers.
No. No no no—
She dropped it.
It didn’t make a sound when it hit the floor.
Her wolf snarled in her head. Run.
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Outside Again
She stumbled out into the street, heart galloping, lungs on fire.
She couldn’t explain what she’d seen.
She didn’t want to explain it.
All she knew was that someone — something — was watching her. Studying her. Waiting for her to break open like a piñata of chaos.
And that dream hadn’t been a dream.
> “Wake up before they find out who you are.”
She pressed her back to the brick wall of the alley behind the store and slid down until she hit the pavement.
“What the hell is happening to me?” she whispered.
A breeze moved down the alley — warm and scented with smoke.
And she swore she heard that voice again.
Him.
But when she looked up…
She was alone.
- Writer
