Morning Chaos and Solitude
The creature lunged.
Instinct took over. Ellie grabbed the nearest object—a lamp—and swung it with all her might. The glass shattered against the creature's form, but it didn't stop.
Pain shot through her hand, but she ignored it, scrambling for anything else to defend herself. Her fingers closed around her sketchbook, and as she held it up, the rune on the page began to glow.
The creature hesitated, its ember-like eyes narrowing. The glow intensified, filling the room with a blinding light.
With an otherworldly shriek, the shadow dissolved, leaving Ellie alone in the silence.
She stared at the sketchbook in her trembling hands, the glowing rune fading back into graphite. Whatever had just happened, it was far from over.
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Ellie stirred, a groggy resistance in her movements as the golden light of morning slipped through the gaps in her blinds, painting stripes across the walls of her small room. The city beyond her window was already alive, humming with the familiar medley of honking cars, distant voices, and the occasional bark of a dog.
She blinked up at the ceiling, the warm light a sharp contrast to her sluggish body. Suddenly, the images from last night poured into her consciousness. The dark entity and how it attacked her. She remembered being scared and was awake, or was she not? The lines between a dream and reality blending, giving way to her confusion and chaos in her mind.
She was pulled out of her bafflement by a faint vibration. Reaching for her phone, which was buried under a pillow, Ellie groaned as she checked the time: 9:53 a.m.
"Great," she muttered, her voice raspy from sleep. Fridays were supposed to be her sanctuary—her day to recharge, paint, and catch up on whatever creative spark had eluded her during the week. Oversleeping wasn't part of the plan.
Pushing herself upright, Ellie swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. The faint aroma of coffee lingered in the air, a quiet reminder of her roommate, Sophia, who had already left for work.
Ellie shuffled into the kitchen, her hair a tangled mess and her oversized t-shirt hanging loose over sweatpants. The apartment was still, except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the muffled sounds of the city outside.
On the counter, propped against a familiar mug, was a neatly folded note. Ellie picked it up, squinting at Sophia's quick, slightly slanted handwriting:
"Morning, Ellie! Made breakfast (you're welcome), and I'll be back late tonight. Thanks in advance for cleaning! We're even now ;) – Sophia."
Ellie let out a soft laugh, rolling her eyes as she set the note down. Even now. It was a playful jab at the time Ellie had "borrowed" Sophia's favorite scarf without asking, only to accidentally smear paint on it during a particularly messy project.
"Touché," Ellie muttered, grabbing a slice of waffle Sophia had left for her. She leaned against the counter as she ate, letting the quiet of the apartment settle over her. A small pile of dishes in the sink caught her attention—plates streaked with syrup, a sticky fork resting haphazardly on the edge of a bowl.
She sighed. "Thanks in advance, huh?"
---
Ellie tied her hair into a messy bun, securing it with an elastic band she found on the counter. She rolled up the sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt, glancing around the apartment with a mix of determination and resignation.
"This won't take long," she muttered to herself, though she knew better.
Starting in the living room, Ellie moved to the coffee table, which had become a catch-all for clutter. Magazines were scattered across its surface, along with Sophia's work files and Ellie's abandoned sketchbook. She flipped through one of the magazines absentmindedly before stacking them into a neat pile.
Her sketchbook lay open to a half-finished doodle, the lines sharp and erratic. She stared at it, her brow furrowing. The design was unfamiliar—circles within circles, jagged edges bleeding into one another. It looked almost deliberate, though she didn't remember drawing it.
Ellie shook her head, closing the sketchbook and placing it on a nearby shelf. "Focus," she murmured, pushing the strange design to the back of her mind.
The kitchen came next. Ellie set her phone on the counter, scrolling through her playlist until a soft, upbeat melody filled the room. She hummed along as she scrubbed the dishes, the warm water soothing against her hands.
As she rinsed the last plate, Ellie opened the pantry to grab a dish towel. Her eyes caught on a crumpled granola bar wrapper, stuffed behind a jar of peanut butter.
She laughed, pulling it out. "Classic Sophia," Ellie said to herself, shaking her head as she tucked the wrapper into the trash.
---
The real challenge was their shared workspace, tucked into the corner of the apartment. Ellie's art supplies were scattered across the desk—paintbrushes lying haphazardly, tubes of acrylic paint in various states of use, and half-finished canvases leaning against the wall.
Ellie sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting through the chaos. She organized her brushes into jars, wiped down the paint-streaked desk, and stacked the canvases in order of size. Each piece brought back a flicker of memory—the late nights spent painting, the frustration of starting over, the thrill of a finished piece.
Sophia's files were neatly arranged in their section of the workspace, though a few had fallen onto the floor. Ellie gathered them up, flipping briefly through each one to ensure nothing was out of place.
One file caught her eye: Hale Galleries: Art Exhibit Documentation.
Her breath hitched as she opened it. Inside were glossy photos of the gallery, notes on upcoming exhibitions, and a handwritten card bearing the name Sebastian Hale.
Ellie hesitated, her fingers brushing against the edge of the folder. A wave of unease washed over her. She quickly snapped it shut, placing it back where it belonged.
"Not my business," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music.
---
By the time Ellie finished, the apartment felt lighter, almost like a blank canvas itself. She stood in the middle of the room, taking in the clean surfaces and neatly arranged belongings. A small smile tugged at her lips as she wiped her hands on a towel.
Sinking onto the couch, Ellie let out a deep breath, a mix of accomplishment and fatigue settling over her. Her gaze drifted to the sketchbook on the shelf, the strange design flashing in her mind once again.
She couldn't shake the memory of last night—the shadowed figure that had appeared in her dreams, or had it been real?
Her chest tightened as she replayed the scene in her mind. The dark silhouette, tall and imposing, its presence pressing down on her like a physical weight. She'd felt paralyzed, unable to move or scream, her breath stolen by the sheer force of its gaze.
Ellie closed her eyes, her hands trembling slightly. "It was just a dream," she whispered, as if saying it aloud would make it true.
But the lines in her sketchbook told a different story. She reached for it, flipping to the page. The design seemed darker now, more defined, as though it had come alive overnight.
Her fingers traced the lines, her pulse quickening. There was something familiar about the pattern, though she couldn't place it.