The sun had just disappeared behind the horizon, leaving our little home bathed in the soft golden hues of dusk. Yssa was leaning against me, her head resting on my shoulder as we sipped the last of our evening coffee. Everything felt perfect — cozy, warm, and so impossibly real.
But then… my eyes flicked to the small lamp on the side table.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. Lamps get dusty, bulbs flicker, things happen. But something about the way this one was glowing tonight… it felt off. The light wasn’t soft and warm like it usually was. It was harsher, almost pulsating in a weird rhythm, as if it were… breathing.
“Yssa… do you see that?” I asked, my voice a little tense, pointing toward the lamp.
She turned her head lazily, still half in my embrace, and squinted. “See what?”
“The lamp… it looks weird. It’s… not right.”
Her brows furrowed as she sat up. “Weird how?”
I took a cautious step toward it. The base of the lamp seemed ordinary, but the light it emitted cast shadows that moved strangely across the walls — long, twisting shapes that didn’t match anything in the room. My stomach tightened.
I reached out, fingers hovering just above the lamp’s switch, and then… it flickered violently, as if reacting to my presence.
Yssa gasped. “Kai… maybe it’s just the bulb? Or maybe the electricity? Don’t freak out.”
But my instincts screamed otherwise. I’d never been a superstitious guy, but the way the lamp throbbed in the dim room made my skin crawl.
I leaned closer, inspecting it. The glass cover had a faint crack I hadn’t noticed before, but that alone didn’t explain the eerie glow. The light seemed… alive.
“Maybe it’s haunted,” Yssa whispered half-joking, half-serious, and I couldn’t tell if she was teasing or genuinely spooked.
I laughed nervously. “Yeah… sure. Haunted. Right.”
Then, without warning, the lamp flickered out completely, plunging the room into darkness.
Yssa let out a small squeal and clutched my arm. “Kai… you’re scaring me.”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my own racing heart. “I’m not… I mean, it’s probably just a faulty lamp, okay? Nothing supernatural. Just… faulty.”
I reached to turn it back on, but the switch didn’t respond. Instead, a soft humming sound filled the room — low and vibrating, almost melodic, but wrong. My hair stood on end.
“Okay… that’s not normal,” I muttered.
Yssa leaned against me again, her head on my chest this time. “Kai… I’m scared.”
I wrapped my arms around her tightly, trying to calm both of us. “It’s okay… I’ll check it out. We’ll figure it out. Nothing’s going to happen.”
I grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen drawer — because of course, I’d prepared for emergencies like this — and shone it toward the lamp. The light illuminated the crack in the glass more clearly now, but… there was something else.
A tiny, flickering symbol had appeared along the base. It wasn’t there before. I swear.
“What the…?” I whispered, crouching down to get a closer look.
Yssa peeked over my shoulder, eyes wide. “Kai… that wasn’t there before.”
I could feel my pulse hammering in my ears. Every logical part of my mind screamed it was impossible, yet my instincts screamed the opposite. Something had changed. The lamp wasn’t just faulty — it was… alive. Or at least, it was signaling something.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “Alright… we’ll deal with this in the morning. For now, let’s just… stay here.”
Yssa nodded, burying her face against my shoulder. “I trust you, Kai.”
I kissed the top of her head, telling myself that tomorrow, in the daylight, this would all make sense. It had to.
But deep down, as the lamp continued its strange flickering, I realized this night was far from over… and our dream, no matter how perfect it felt, might have a little twist waiting for us.
I remember that night so clearly.
Yssa’s voice was barely above a whisper when she asked me.
“Can you take me away from this, Kai? From home… somewhere no one knows us?”
I didn’t even hesitate.
“Yes.”
And somehow, we did it.
---
We found a place that didn’t exist on any map that mattered. A small house tucked between tall trees and endless sky. No neighbors. No familiar faces. No past chasing after us. Just mornings soaked in golden sunlight and nights wrapped in quiet peace.
She would laugh while cooking, sleeves slightly rolled up, hair messy in the most beautiful way. I would watch her from the doorway, thinking I had stolen a piece of heaven.
We were happy.
Not the loud, chaotic kind of happy.
The soft kind.
The kind that feels like a dream you’re afraid to blink through.
Sometimes I’d wake up before her and just stare. The rise and fall of her chest. The way her fingers curled slightly under her cheek. And I would think—
This isn’t real. This can’t be real.
But it was.
It had to be.
Because I could feel it.
---
That night, she went to bed first.
“Don’t stay up too long,” she mumbled sleepily.
I smiled. “I won’t.”
But I didn’t follow her.
Something about the lamp in the living room felt… wrong.
It had always been there. A small oil lamp we used at night. But now the flame flickered strangely—too steady, too sharp, almost watching me.
I stared at it.
The room was silent except for the faint crackling of fire.
My gaze hardened. The warmth on my skin felt… different.
I stepped closer.
The flame danced, but not like fire should. It looked almost frozen in motion. Suspended.
My heart began to pound.
Why does it look like that?
Without thinking, I reached out.
My finger moved slowly toward the flame.
Closer.
Closer.
And then—
I touched it.
A sudden, sharp burn shot through my skin.
Real.
Painfully real.
I gasped—
And everything shattered.
---
My eyes snapped open.
Darkness.
Cold.
No trees. No small house. No golden morning light.
I was in my old room.
Dust covered the shelves. The air smelled stale. Like time had stopped.
My heart was racing.
“Yssa?”
Silence.
I stood up too fast, nearly stumbling.
“Yssa!”
No answer.
The house was empty.
Just me.
And loneliness.
A suffocating, crushing loneliness.
My chest tightened as I rushed to my desk. My phone was there.
Untouched.
The screen felt foreign in my hands.
One year.
One full year.
My hands trembled as I turned it on.
Notifications flooded the screen.
Missed calls.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Messages.
From friends.
From family.
From numbers I barely recognized.
My breathing became uneven.
I scrolled.
Scrolled.
Scrolled.
And then I saw it.
A message.
The date froze my blood.
It was the day Yssa and I “disappeared.”
From Kazu.
“Hey Kai, where are you? I’m sorry but Yssa is dead. She got hit by a car while going to the bus.”
My vision blurred.
No.
No.
No.
My hands shook violently.
Dead?
That’s impossible.
We ran away.
We built a home.
She was just here.
She went to bed.
I felt her warmth.
I heard her laugh.
I—
The lamp.
The flame.
The burn.
I looked down at my finger.
A faint redness.
Real.
Just like the pain.
Just like losing her.
The truth settled slowly, cruelly.
There was no house in the woods.
There was no quiet life.
There was no escape.
The night she asked me to take her away—
She never made it to the bus.
And I…
I never left this room.
I built a world where she survived.
Where we were happy.
Where I didn’t have to say goodbye.
Tears finally fell, heavy and unstoppable.
I sank to the floor, phone still in my hand.
For one year, I chose the dream.
Now I was awake.
And she was gone.
Only me.
And the loneliness.
And a memory of a flame that burned just enough to bring me back to reality.