I've forgotten the day I first saw light, if I ever truly did. But what I can tell you, while living in this Underground Earth, is that life here is far from easy. Every time I stepped outside my house, if you could even call it that, I kept myself hidden, or the monsters would consume me. However, most of the time, we can escape them with the aid of a light source, which is why the streets are filled with lights.
I was born here in Buried Terra, a world where the sun has long since cooled, and the surface is covered in darkness. Although I have never experienced it myself, I've read stories about it. They tell of a time when the darkness overtook the skies, and monsters began to emerge from the shadows. Species slowly disappeared, and eventually, the cold spread across the lands. Humanity's last refuge was beneath the surface, closer to the Earth's core. It's a nice story, but I'm not sure I believe it. Still, it's the only one I have to go on, and for that reason, I cling to it.
But now, I need to go out and buy some bread and orange jam to have food for later. I'll take the public carriage; it's much easier and cheaper than walking, though the downside is that it's very crowded, and there's hardly any space to sit. I'm lucky, though, this carriage only has three people.
"Hey, could you take me to Anny's Bakery?" I asked, and the coachman nodded. I returned to my spot, and as the carriage began to move, I couldn't help but think that today felt just like any other. Despite the sorrow and despair that seem to hang in the air here, life isn't always so grim. Every day, we simply search for food, drink, clothes, and ways to survive.
But it feels like the same day, over and over again. The ride to the bakery was smooth, the streetlights bright, and the buildings with their windows allowed more light to pour in.
"Here's two silver; that should be enough for the trip," I said calmly. The coachman gave me a look of mild confusion, as I expected, but I could relate to the feeling.
I only had 20 silver left, enough for 10 pieces of bread, which should keep me fed for five days, assuming the bread doesn't mold.
When I entered Anny's Bakery, I saw her familiar face once again, scars, stitches, and all. I've been coming here for years. When my mother allowed me to venture outside, she and I would often stop by Anny's bakery.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Anny," I greeted, as I always do.
"Alan, you know it's not good to wear such a dull face every day, right?" she said with a smile that was as stitched as the rest of her.
"Well, everyone in the town has the same expression, so you might as well join in," I replied, standing straight.
She chuckled softly. "You're right, but you know, even if everyone's like that, why follow suit? You could be the light for everyone, just like the lights that keep us alive." She said it with the same calm expression, as always.
I ignored her and immediately asked for my usual order. "Ms. Anny, could I please get my typical bread?" I glanced up at the ceiling, noticing how worn down the bakery was, and how the lights flickered randomly.
As she handed me the bread, my curiosity got the better of me. "Why haven't you changed the lightbulb?"
She sighed. "Don't worry about it, Alan. I'll fix it later; I think I have some spare bulbs around here somewhere."
I've never gotten used to her appearance, despite coming here every week for the last 13 years. Since I was 7, when my mother finally allowed me to leave the house, I've been coming here.
I studied at my mother's family's house. Every month, she would bring me a few books to study, but many of them were just stories.
"Ms. Anny, here's 20 silver. That should be enough, right?" I asked.
"Yes, that should be enough, but honestly, it's too much. But thank you, child," she answered, her voice soft yet firm.
"Okay, goodbye, Ms. Anny. I'll be back next Monday," I said as I made my way to the door.
"Be careful, child," Ms. Anny warned, her voice taking on a serious tone. "I heard there's going to be a blackout tomorrow."
I turned back to her. "Thank you. You should be careful, too."
Her gaze followed me as I exited, but I didn't think much of it. I stepped into the streets, looked up at the false sky, and shut the door behind me. The streets were noisier than usual. Something seemed off. Many carriages rushed past, their speed betraying a sense of urgency. Though I had no clue what was going on, something in my gut told me that it wasn't a normal day.
I approached a stranger, a man wearing a brown suit and carrying a brown cane. "Sir, could you tell me what's happening?" I asked, confusion gnawing at me.
He responded nervously, "They said there's going to be a partial blackout... and then they rushed to speed it up."
"Thank you," I said before waving my hand to hail a carriage. The coachman saw me and rushed to pick me up, and I quickly boarded, even though it was full.
The streetlights flickered as the people on the sidewalk panicked. The carriages sped toward our destination.
I could hear the horses gasping for breath as the urgency mounted. My heart began to race, and panic seeped into my thoughts:
What if I don't make it home?
What if the carriages break down?
What will happen if the darkness overtakes us?
My mind was spiraling, but I forced myself to calm down, reminding myself that I would make it.
The lights continued to flicker, as if chasing after us, and the carriages ahead began to slow down. I looked at the people inside; some were resigned to whatever was coming, while others were in a state of frantic panic. The coachman remained focused, unaware of the looming danger.
As we passed Dowling Street 53, I expected to see bustling activity, but there was no one in sight. I was glad the people had reacted quickly, retreating into their homes and turning on their lights, or maybe they had backup power sources.
I should have brought a lantern or flashlight. I ignored my eldest sister's advice. I regret that now, sister Allure.
I did nothing wrong, but now, for the first time, I've made a mistake, and it's gone terribly wrong.
The carriages split as we reached Dright Street 47. I counted the houses as we approached my stop: "27... 18... 10... 6... 3... 1."
"This is my stop," I shouted to the coachman.
The coachman didn't ask for payment, as it was an emergency. I arrived at my worn-down home, hoping that one day, with a proper job, I'd be able to afford to fix it.
I looked back at the streets I had passed, and the lights there flickered.
"Shit, it's near."
I rushed inside, grabbed my lighter, and lit the candles and lanterns. Turning on the lights was useless if the power was soon going out. I'm alone here, my sisters aren't in the city. I hope they're doing all right.
I sat by the table, watching the candles flicker. Through the window, I saw the streetlights flicker, and then... the blackout came.
I decided to wait, grabbing a book to distract myself. A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.
Why are they still outside during a blackout?
I opened the door, and there stood the man in the brown suit with the cane, the same stranger I had asked about the blackout earlier.
"How did you know my house?" I asked, feeling a hint of suspicion rise.
He looked at me with a mix of relief and desperation. "I was in the same carriage as you. Thank the Almighty, I managed to catch up with you. I followed you here because I'm homeless and have nothing. I was hoping you might invite me in."
He seemed sincere, but I had read enough in the papers to know better.
I decided to test him.
"Tell me, how did you get into the carriage before I did? It was already full, and as soon as I got in, it rushed off."
He hesitated, then answered after a long pause, "I was already in it before you. Remember? The carriages were full, and you stayed at the back."
I think I remember that, but my mind had been too focused on the situation to notice much else. I let it slide.
"Alright, come in. Just sit by the table and wait. I'll grab something from my room."
"Sure," he replied.
As I went to my room, I found a deck of cards that my uncle had given me, a gift from my adoptive mother's brother.
As I walked back to the living room, I noticed something strange in my peripheral vision, a shape I couldn't comprehend. It looked like a man in a suit, but there was no face, no features, nothing human about it.
I tilted my head up, and there, suspended in the air, was a disembodied head, split open, blood dripping, as if the head itself was merely a byproduct of tentacles.
Its brains were scattered, eyes falling out, and countless others, each focused on me with malevolent intent.
It whispered, "Oh, you're back..." The voice grew distorted, mumbled.