When The Sun Died

Chapter 1

Asher Hale’s POV

The world was obsessed with the sky that week.

Every radio, every phone, every cheap television in every dusty shop window talked about the same thing:

“A total solar eclipse will be visible across the region in three days! A rare celestial event”

People clapped about it. Shared posts. Bought eclipse glasses like they were souvenirs.

Everyone was excited.

Everyone except me.

I couldn’t explain it, but something in my chest tightened every time I heard about that eclipse a quiet, crawling dread, like the air itself was waiting for something I couldn’t understand.

Still… life went on.

Hale Motors opened at 8:00 a.m., sick parents or not.

Dad was already coughing when I pushed the shop door open, that deep chesty sound that always made my stomach twist.

“Morning, kid,” he rasped, wiping grease off his hands.

“Morning.” I forced a smile. “You took your meds?”

“Your mother made sure of it.”

He rolled his eyes like a teenager instead of a grown man battling a failing heart.

Mom was behind the counter sorting invoices. She looked paler today. Tired in a way she tried to hide with her usual bright lipstick. When she saw me, she smiled anyway.

“You slept in.”

“Only by ten minutes.”

She raised a brow.

“You’re slipping.”

We were an ordinary family in an ordinary town the type nobody writes novels about because nothing happens here.

But today… things felt different.

The sunlight pouring through the garage windows was too sharp, too white like someone had turned up the contrast on the world. My eyes kept stinging, like the air had grit in it. The birds outside weren’t singing. Even the stray dog that always begged for scraps hadn’t shown up.

Something was wrong.

I could feel it.

But everyone else acted like life was perfectly normal.

Mom cleared her throat. “Oh before I forget. Friday afternoon, we’re watching the eclipse together. I already bought the glasses.”

Dad grinned. “Family moment. Better act excited.”

I tried. I really did.

“Yeah… sure.”

But I glanced out the garage door again. The sunlight hit the pavement and shimmered weirdly, almost like heatwaves except it wasn’t hot.

It felt like the sky was… watching.

Later that day, I dropped off a repaired generator at old Mrs. Whitlock’s house. She was sitting on her porch, thin and pale, wrapped in blankets even though the weather was warm.

She waved me over with trembling hands.

“Asher… does the air feel strange to you?”

I froze.

My heart thumped once hard.

“What do you mean?”

Her cloudy eyes lifted to the hazy sun.

“Like something’s coming.”

A chill crept across my spine.

I opened my mouth to respond, but she suddenly pressed her hands to her temples and winced in pain.

“Are you okay?” I stepped forward.

“I just feel dizzy,” she whispered.

“It started yesterday. Head pressure. Ringing in my ears. The doctor says it’s nothing… but it doesn’t feel like nothing.”

I swallowed.

Mom had complained of ringing in her ears last night.

Dad had mentioned a “weird pressure” behind his eyes this morning.

I hadn’t made the connection until now.

“I’ll tell my parents to check on you,” I said softly.

She nodded weakly, but her eyes drifted toward the sky again.

“That eclipse… people think it’s beautiful. But I keep dreaming about it.”

She shivered.

“The sun dies in my dreams. Turns black. And something comes through.”

My skin prickled.

A truck horn blared somewhere down the street, snapping me out of my thoughts. I forced myself to smile.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Mrs. Whitlock. Just dreams.”

But as I walked back toward the shop, my heart felt heavy.

Because something in me whispered it wasn’t just dreams.

By evening, clouds rolled in unnaturally fast low, thick, and dark. The streetlights flickered even though it wasn’t storming. The neighbors’ dog howled nonstop. Dad said it was just the weather.

But when I stepped outside one last time before bed, the town felt different.

Still.

Expectant.

Like holding its breath.

And in the middle of all that silence, a thought hit me:

In three days, everything we knew would shatter.

And none of us saw it coming.

Not even me.

Not even my parents.

Not even the people who would become monsters.

That night, the moon stared down at me huge and white as if it already knew what was coming.

As if it was waiting.

Sleep was supposed to fix nerves, but it didn’t. Not last night.

I woke to the sound of the wind whispering through the cracks of my window, though the trees were still.

My room was too bright for 2:37 a.m., the moon spilling silver across the floor. And it wasn’t just bright it pulsed. Almost alive.

I sat up. Heart thumping. Sweat on my palms.

Then I heard it.

A click. Soft, deliberate. Like a shadow walking across the roof.

I froze. Every instinct screamed don’t look, but I did anyway.

Nothing. Just the moonlight and the shaking branches.

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. “It’s nothing. Just… wind.”

But the air tasted metallic. Sharp. Like it had a smell I couldn’t name. Something… wrong.

By the time the sun rose, the unease hadn’t left.

The clouds from yesterday were still hovering, thick and slow moving. They hung low, almost touching the rooftops, like the sky was pressing down on the town.

I met Mom at the kitchen table. She was already pouring coffee, her hands trembling slightly.

“You didn’t sleep?” she asked, voice quiet.

“Not really.” I tried to smile, but it felt hollow.

Her eyes flicked to mine, sharp for a moment. “Asher… maybe you shouldn’t be outside today.”

I frowned. “Why? It’s fine. I have work to do.”

She didn’t answer. Just pressed her lips together and shook her head.

I left the house with a tight jaw. Something was off, but no one wanted to admit it. And when you live in a town like this, admitting fear was like inviting it in.

By midday, the oddities multiplied. The generator I’d repaired yesterday hummed on Mrs. Whitlock’s porch, but the sound… warped. Low and guttural, like it had its own heartbeat. Her house looked… different. Darker, somehow. And she wasn’t on the porch anymore.

A sudden chill ran down my spine, and I swore I heard a whisper from the street behind me.

“Asher…”

I spun around. Empty street. Nothing but the shadows stretching unnaturally between houses.

I kept walking. Faster. My chest tight. The sunlight hit the pavement again, that same sharp, white glare from yesterday

and for a heartbeat, I could’ve sworn it moved. Shimmered. Like heat rising off black asphalt. But no cars, no movement. Just me.

When I returned to Hale Motors, Dad was hunched over the workbench. He didn’t look up.

“Morning,” I muttered.

“Don’t talk too much. Keeps the pressure in my head down.”

I froze. “Pressure?”

He shook his head like he hadn’t said it. “Never mind. Just… get me the wrench.”

Even inside the shop, the world felt… wrong. Like something was pressing against the glass, watching, waiting. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that the eclipse wasn’t just a show in the sky. It was a countdown.

I didn’t know what would happen when the sun disappeared. But my gut told me whatever came, it would start small. Subtle. Invisible. Then it would find its way in.

That evening, as the sun dipped low and the clouds thickened again, I noticed the first of them.

Standing across the street. A figure, just out of focus. Watching. Silent. Waiting.

I blinked. It vanished.

I told myself it was a trick of the light. But deep down, I knew better.

This town was holding its breath. And so was I.