The sky was lit up with the last fireworks of the night, glittering in purples and reds as the new year rolled in. The car's interior glowed faintly from the dashboard lights, casting soft shadows over the five teens packed inside. Anna sat wedged between her twin sister Annabelle and Gwen, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, her mind still buzzing from the laughter and noise of the party they had just left.
In the front, their parents spoke softly—idling in comfortable silence now that the evening's chaos was over. The party had been a blur of loud music, snacks, dancing, and the kind of freewheeling energy only teenagers could summon on the cusp of a brand new year. Anna could still hear the pop of confetti and the hum of old karaoke tunes echoing in her ears.
Penelope had curled up with a blanket in the very back seat, leaning her head on Arthur's shoulder. "Wake me when we get there," she mumbled.
"You've been saying that since we left," Arthur replied, amused. "If we hit a bump, I'm not saving you from a broken nose."
"I'll break yours first," she grumbled.
Annabelle chuckled softly, brushing a curl out of her twin's face. "Guys, try not to kill each other before we get to the house."
The "house" was Anna and Annabelle's home—spacious, a little old, but recently renovated. Their parents had converted the basement into a multi-functional hangout space for the girls and their cousins to use. It had been their mom's idea after seeing how close the cousins were getting over the holidays.
Now, with the party behind them and the adults calling it a night, the teenagers were being handed the perfect opportunity: an unsupervised sleepover in a space all their own.
As the car turned into their driveway, snow crunched beneath the tires. The porch light flickered above, casting a warm glow across the front steps.
Anna's parents got out first, stretching and yawning. "We're heading to bed," their dad said through the cracked window. "Don't be too loud, and keep the heater on."
"We will," Annabelle called back.
Mom gave a tired smile. "Night, kids. Lock up when you're in."
The front door closed behind them with a gentle thud.
The moment it did, energy surged back into the group. Gwen was the first to rush out of the car, dramatically shouting, "The real party begins now!"
Arthur followed, hauling out backpacks. "Basement dungeon squad, assemble!"
The five teens tromped through the back entrance and down into the newly renovated basement. Anna flicked the light switch, and the room lit up with the soft, multi-colored glow of string lights they had hung earlier that week.
The place was awesome.
There was a giant sectional couch, fluffy bean bags, a TV hooked to a gaming console, and shelves lined with board games and snacks. An old mini fridge hummed quietly in the corner. Thick rugs warmed the floor, and a giant futon mattress lay spread out for group sleeping.
They kicked off their shoes and tossed their things around in organized chaos. In minutes, the room became their kingdom.
"Mario Kart tournament?" Gwen suggested, tossing controllers to Penelope and Arthur.
"You're all going down," Arthur bragged.
Anna smiled as she grabbed a soda from the fridge and watched her cousins dissolve into another loud, chaotic round of banter. There was something sacred about moments like this—unfiltered and golden. For a while, she let herself get lost in it.
Midnight passed. Then 1 a.m.
Somewhere between board games and blanket forts, they curled up together in a pile of limbs and laughter. Annabelle had told a spooky story about a ghost who could freeze time. Gwen swore she saw something move behind the water heater. Arthur rolled his eyes but pulled the blanket up higher anyway.
Eventually, one by one, they all drifted off to sleep.
The string lights flickered.
The hum of electricity died.
And silence fell.
Anna awoke to dust.
Her first breath was thick, heavy with the scent of rot and mildew. She coughed, sitting up slowly, her limbs stiff like she hadn't moved in days—weeks, maybe. Her heart pounded as she blinked in confusion.
Gone were the warm string lights and the sounds of her cousins breathing quietly nearby. Instead, the basement was dark—crumbling, overgrown. One wall had collapsed, vines creeping in through cracks in the concrete. The ceiling was sagging dangerously.
What the hell happened?
Her voice croaked. "Annabelle?"
Movement beside her. Then a groan.
Her twin stirred slowly, eyes fluttering open. "Anna? What... time is it?"
"I don't think it matters," Anna said, her voice shaking. "Something's wrong."
Within minutes, the others were waking too—one by one, confused and dazed. Gwen sat up and screamed when she saw the wreckage. Penelope clung to Arthur's arm. He looked around, stunned, pale.
"It's like the house aged a hundred years," he muttered. "But that's not possible."
"We didn't just sleep overnight," Anna said quietly. "We... were gone."
A strange quiet fell between them as they climbed over the wreckage and peeked outside through the broken storm cellar doors. What they saw made the silence deafening.
The neighborhood was unrecognizable.
Nature had reclaimed everything. Buildings were half-sunken under trees and vines. The streets were cracked, overrun with weeds. No cars. No lights. No sound of human life. Only the distant caws of giant birds flying overhead.
It was like the world had moved on without them.
"What the hell is this?" Gwen asked, her voice cracking.
"I think we've been... asleep," Anna said, her heart thudding. "For a very long time."
"How long?" Penelope asked.
Anna looked up at the sun filtering through overgrown tree branches.
"I don't know. A hundred years? Two?"
Nobody spoke.
Then, without warning, a strange warmth bloomed in Anna's chest. Like a gentle pulse—alive. Real.
She held out her hand—and space tore gently around her fingertips like ripples in water. From nowhere, a compact medical kit popped into existence in her palm.
Everyone stared.
Anna stared, too.
"What just happened?" Arthur asked.
"I... I don't know," she said, breathless. "I reached for it. And it came."
"You just—summoned that," Annabelle whispered. "Like magic?"
Not just magic. Something deeper. Dimensional. Spatial. She could feel it now, humming beneath her skin. Her mind spun.
Then, Arthur yelped and jumped back. His palm had caught fire—except it didn't burn him. He held it up, stunned, as controlled flame danced across his fingers like an obedient puppy.
Penelope gasped—and a layer of frost crackled over her skin like armor before melting away.
Annabelle stared down at her arm. Green vines curled around her wrist like they had grown from her own veins.
"I... can feel the plants," she said, shaking. "Like they're listening."
And Gwen disappeared.
For a second, they all panicked—until she reappeared on the far side of the ruined basement.
"Okay, okay—so, um, I just... moved," she said, breathless. "In like a blink. Like a jump. Like, fast."
Anna's mind, already spinning, settled into something cold and calm.
Powers. Time travel—or something close. The world was gone. Civilization had crumbled. They had been left behind. Or preserved.
And now, they were different.
Changed.
Weaponized.
Needed.
"We can't stay here," she said quietly. "We need to move. Now."
"Go where?" Penelope asked, eyes wide.
"Anywhere with food, shelter, tools. If I can store things, I can carry what we find."
Arthur nodded. "I've got fire. Light. Maybe weapons."
"I can defend," Penelope whispered. "Ice freezes."
"I can trap," Annabelle added. "Vines protect."
"I scout," Gwen said. "Nothing can outrun me."
Anna stood, brushing debris from her jeans, lifting her chin as something hard settled in her gut.
"I'll lead," she said. "I think I can see what we need to survive. Maybe even thrive. I don't know why, but I can feel it."
Together, they turned toward the ruined stairs and the broken world beyond.
None of them were ready.
But ready or not—the future was waiting.