Fractures in Reality
848 Words
Amara woke to the soft hum of the city, but something was… off.
Her apartment felt colder, sharper. Shadows clung to corners like liquid, flickering unnaturally when she blinked. The crack in her bedside table had widened overnight, jagged lines spreading across the surface as if the wood itself was under pressure.
Her phone buzzed. Tunde.
“I saw it again… the shadows,” the message read. “Amara, I don’t know what’s happening. You need to help me.”
Her chest tightened. He could feel it. He didn’t know what it was, couldn’t explain it—but the dreams, the bleed… they were touching him now.
She ran a hand through her hair, her mind spinning. This isn’t just about me anymore. They’re crossing over.
By midday, she couldn’t ignore it any longer. She needed Eli.
The dream came faster than usual that night. No corridor. No plaza. She fell straight into a void—black, endless, vibrating with energy.
Eli was there. Always there. Calm. Anchored.
“Amara,” he said quietly, his voice slicing through the void. “You’re ready to try something harder.”
She frowned. “Harder than yesterday?”
“Yes,” he replied, stepping closer. His hand hovered near hers, not touching. “We’re going to bridge the gap between dream and reality. You need to learn control outside the threshold.”
Her stomach dropped. “Outside the threshold?”
“The veil,” he said. “It’s thinner than ever. Tonight, it’s testing you. If you succeed… you’ll understand the stakes.”
The void pulsed. Shapes formed—shadows, twisting and writhing like smoke caught in a storm. But these weren’t just the dream shadows—they were fragments of reality, distorted echoes of the city.
Amara’s pulse quickened. She could make out streetlights, blurred cars, even Tunde’s apartment building across the void.
“They’re… real?” she whispered.
“They’ve always been,” Eli said softly. “You just didn’t notice until now.”
The shadows surged forward, striking faster than ever. Amara’s heart raced, adrenaline lacing her thoughts.
“You can do this,” Eli said. “Focus. Think beyond fear.”
She closed her eyes. Breathed. Reached inward.
Images of home, of warmth, of Tunde’s laugh, the corner café… she held them tight.
When she opened her eyes, the void responded. Light exploded from her hands, spiraling outward in concentric waves. Shadows collided with it and hissed, retreating—but not vanishing.
Eli stepped closer. “Good… but not enough. You’re holding back. Let go.”
Amara shook her head. “I’m scared!”
“Exactly. That fear is part of the power. Use it. Shape it.”
A cold wind tore through the void. She felt it—sudden, sharp—the pull of the veil, dragging her toward the fragments of reality. Tunde’s building shimmered, flickered, and for a heartbeat, she thought she could reach him.
The shadows lunged at her, faster, angrier.
Amara gritted her teeth. “No. Not again!”
This time, she didn’t just react—she reached out. Not with panic. Not with fear. With intention.
The void shifted violently, snapping into a fractured reflection of her apartment. Her walls shimmered, the cracked table stretched into the dreamscape, and the black feathers from before floated, suspended, like dark stars.
The shadows screeched, recoiling from the surge of control.
Eli’s eyes widened slightly. “You… you did it.”
“I… I think so,” Amara breathed, her hands trembling. The void pulsed around her. Shapes of reality and dream clashed, but she felt herself holding them in place. For a moment, she imagined Tunde’s face and reached out…
And a ripple ran through the air. A soft, almost imperceptible shiver. Something had touched him—something she couldn’t see.
Her chest tightened. “Tunde…” she whispered.
Eli’s expression darkened. “It’s worse than I thought. The shadows aren’t just in the dream anymore—they’re learning to reach into your world. And anyone connected to you is vulnerable.”
Amara’s mind raced. “So… what do I do?”
“You train,” Eli said. “And you fight. But be careful. Every time you touch reality, the veil cracks further. Every time you resist fear, they learn how to adapt.”
The shadows regrouped, circling the fragments of reality she had summoned. Their whispers grew louder, almost intelligible: You belong to us. You cannot escape.
Amara shivered but stood her ground. “I don’t belong to you!”
The largest shadow paused, a jagged silhouette against the fractured void. “Perhaps,” it hissed. “But soon… we will see.”
The void snapped, and Amara woke with a start.
The apartment was still. Too still.
Her phone buzzed. Tunde.
“I… I saw it again. I don’t know why I called, but I felt you were there… I can’t explain it.”
Amara’s hands shook. She stared at the screen. The veil was cracking. The bleed wasn’t just happening.
And now, everyone she cared about was in danger.
- Writer
