Cracks in Reality

Morning arrived slow and heavy.

Ethan sat at the kitchen table, staring blankly at his coffee. The steam curled upward, dissolving into the soft light filtering through the curtains. He could hear the distant chirping of birds outside, the occasional car passing down their quiet suburban street. Everything was normal. It should have felt normal.

But his hands trembled slightly as he gripped the ceramic mug. His mind was still caught in the lingering haze of last night.

The knock. The voice. The void.

It had felt too real. He could still hear it, that whisper slipping through the cracks of reality. Not spoken in words, but in something older—something wrong. His bones still ached with the chill that had crawled into him.

Anna stood at the stove, her back to him, humming softly as she flipped pancakes. Their son, Daniel, sat across from him, swinging his little legs beneath the chair as he spooned cereal into his mouth between excited ramblings about his favorite cartoons.

Ethan should have been at ease. But something gnawed at him, something invisible and growing.

Anna turned, glancing at him over her shoulder. "You okay? You look like you haven't slept."

He blinked, forcing himself out of his daze.

"Yeah… just had a weird dream," he murmured.

Anna smirked. "Let me guess—the kind where you show up to work without pants?"

Ethan let out a short, hollow chuckle. "Something like that."

She walked over, placing a plate of pancakes in front of him. The scent of warm butter and syrup filled the air, but his stomach churned.

"You've been overworking yourself," Anna said, brushing her fingers against his. "Maybe take the day off? You don't look so great."

He almost told her. Almost.

The words hovered on the tip of his tongue—about the knock, the voice, the sheer wrongness of it all. But how did you explain something like that? How did you tell your wife that reality felt like it had been peeled back, just slightly, and something had looked at you from the other side?

So he just nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

"Dad!" Daniel suddenly shouted, pointing at the TV. "Look! The news is talking about a big hole in the sky!"

Ethan's blood ran cold.

He turned sharply toward the television.

The morning news broadcast was showing shaky phone footage—the kind taken in a panic. The video showed a massive rift hanging in the sky over a small town in Norway, a swirling storm of darkness and flickering lights. The air around it looked wrong, like it was bending, twisting in on itself.

The bold red headline at the bottom of the screen read:

SCIENTISTS BAFFLED BY STRANGE SKY PHENOMENON—POSSIBLE CELESTIAL EVENT?

Ethan's grip on his mug tightened.

Another crack.

It wasn't just a dream.

His pulse thudded in his ears as the news anchor spoke, her voice tight with forced calm.

"—scientists say this anomaly has no clear explanation at this time. The Norwegian government has issued a no-fly zone over the area, citing 'unknown atmospheric disturbances.' The public is urged to remain calm as experts investigate—"

The footage cut to another shaky video. This one was closer—a man was standing beneath the rift, recording it from the street below. His voice came through, heavy with panic.

"It's growing," he breathed. "It's actually getting bigger. I swear to God, I can hear something coming from it—"

The video abruptly cut out.

The news anchor cleared her throat, trying to maintain professionalism. "Officials have denied any reports of sound emissions from the anomaly. We will continue to update—"

Ethan tuned it out. His breath came slow and shallow.

He looked at Anna. She was watching the screen, her brows furrowed in mild confusion. Not fear. Not horror.

As if this was just some passing phenomenon—another strange but ultimately explainable event, like an eclipse or a meteor shower.

Ethan clenched his jaw.

Why didn't she feel it?

That creeping, gnawing sensation at the edge of existence? That subtle wrongness, the feeling that something was leaking through the seams of their world?

He swallowed hard and forced himself to stand. "I need some air."

Anna looked up, concerned. "Ethan—"

"I'm fine," he said quickly, already moving toward the door. "I'll just be outside for a minute."

The moment he stepped out onto the porch, the air felt… off.

The sky was too bright. The wind too still. The sounds of the neighborhood—dogs barking, cars passing, distant voices—they all felt like they were coming from somewhere else. Like they were being played on an old, grainy recording.

Ethan pressed a hand to his forehead. His skin felt cold.

What the hell was happening?

He turned his head—and for a split second, he saw something.

A flicker in the air. Like the distortion of heat rising off pavement, except it was shaped. A vague, shifting silhouette—standing at the edge of his lawn, watching him.

His breath caught.

He blinked.

Gone.

Ethan's chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven breaths. He clenched his fists.

This wasn't just in his head. Something was here.

Something had changed.

And whatever it was… it was just getting started.