The silence after the flash was unlike anything Anthony had ever felt. No cars. No generators. No birds. Just stillness. It was the kind that made your skin crawl.
Anthony sat on the couch, his phone dim in his hand. The emergency alert still blinked.
> "Do not look at the sky."
But he already had. Everyone had.
His father, who usually left early for work, hadn't moved from the window. He just kept staring, like he was expecting the world to collapse right there in front of him.
His mother paced the living room, phone pressed to her ear. "Network is down," she mumbled, mostly to herself. "Everything's down."
Anthony's 14-year-old sister, Emmanuella, peeked outside from behind the curtain. "Why's everyone standing still?"
He joined her. Neighbors stood on the street like statues, looking up at the sky. Some were trembling. Others weren't moving at all.
That's when the vibrations started.
Low. Faint. Like the earth itself had caught its breath.
Suddenly, Anthony's phone heated up in his palm. He flinched, dropping it just as a searing flash of light burst across the screen. Then—darkness.
"Tony!" Emmanuella shouted, "What was that?!"
He didn't answer. His body was… tingling. Not painful, but strange. Like static beneath his skin.
He stumbled to the bathroom. Splashed water on his face.
Then he looked up—and froze.
For a second—just a split second—his pupils weren't black.
They shimmered.
Like stars.
"Anthony?" his father called. "You good?"
"Yeah," he lied, staring into the mirror, heart thudding. "Just... tired."
He stepped out just as a loud bang echoed from across the street. Someone screamed.
Another flash lit the sky.
And somewhere nearby… someone was laughing. Loud, unhinged, and inhuman.
The Pulse had started.
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