The trees rustled, and the birds sang a choir of silence of pain. Below, children with bright faces, full of smiles, darted across the narrow streets. A small village bustling with life was once home to the Hinamata familyâ¦before the village walls collapsed.
âWake up, Akari!â a voice called. Deep, yet gentle.
This was the voice of Takeshi Hinamata, Akariâs father. He glanced towards the ceiling as he waited for a response. Moments passed before he lowered his shoulders and sighed. I tell her to sleep early, and sheâs awake by midnight. Honestly. A small smile crept onto his face as a memory faded before him. I thought the sketchbook would keep her busy, not up all night. Well, technically, I wasnât wrong. Takeshi paused, his gaze still focused towards Akariâs room beyond the wooden ceiling. The memory appeared once more, clearer than before. Her small frame and tiny hands as she peeked from behind the curtain in the dark. She thought he couldn't see her, thought she could get away with staying up so late. Takeshi chuckled as the memory faded. Alright, Iâll let her sleep a while longer, he decided. He glanced at the dark blue clock on the wall, its two hands pointed in the opposite direction; 11:25 am. He sat on a nearby chair and waited for his beloved, Akariâs mother, to return from the market. Once she did, he would leave for another day's work. A simple life, he thought to himself. A soft smile spread across his face. Iâm lucky to have it all.
Takeshi worked as the village postman, a man of few words, but he was deeply loved by the locals. He even knew every family by name. Kids would run circles around him as he walked down the busy streets, and families would offer him treats such as cookies. So, if for any reason something were to happen to Takeshi Hinamata, the village wouldn't just feel it; the very walls of the ancient village would crumble. But that was just speculation. Nothing more. Surely?
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Takeshi opened his eyes, the air different now, much colder than before. He wiped his forehead instinctively. Sweat? Did I fall asleep? His thoughts scrambled as he tried to recalibrate himself despite the shaky hands. Something was wrong, something felt wrong. He turned to face the clock, only to be met with a horrifying object that hung on the wall like a parasite. On the wall, the same clock from before had latched onto the wall, only this time two terrifying white eyes had replaced the clock's hands, staring directly at Takeshi, as two streams of blood flowed from them
âW-What?â his voice cracked. âWhatâs going on?!â
He blinked, and the eyes vanished. There was no blood, just the original blue clock that displayed the same time as before: 11:25 am. Takeshi blinked again. This time, his gaze had bounced across the room, but nothing seemed out of place, aside from the darkness of the night sky that poured through the window. Then he heard it. A silent screech from above, from beyond the wood that split the home in two, towards the room where his little Akari slept. He held his breath in order to focus on the faint sound he had heard.
Papa
A faint cry, barely audible, echoed across the building, and so he ran, straight for the corridor where the stairs were.
âAkari!â He called out to her as he leapt over five steps at a time. How long have I been asleep?!
He didnât know how long heâd been asleep. Or why the darkness had swallowed the street, despite the time. But none of it mattered. Not anymore. He reached the top of the staircase and scanned the hallway frantically, like a wild animal. Something's wrong. He didnât hesitate to kick down Akariâs door as her cries echoed from the room. The wooden door tore in to as he forced his way inside. And there, in the centre of the small room, sat Akari. Her dark blue eyes shimmered, heavy with large tears. She looked confused as she sat on the ground, with the monster laying on her lap. Takashi stood frozen, his thoughts spiralled. Both confused and afraid. But before he could move, before his voice had returned to him, Akari had lifted her hand. Her fingers trembled as she pointed to the thing in her arms. âMamaâ