The morning bell rang, echoing down the hallways of his school, but Soren didn't hear it. He didn't hear the chatter of students, the lockers slamming, or the distant announcement over the intercom.
He saw them.
Figures lurking just beyond the edges of vision. Some were grotesque, faces twisting like clay, limbs bending in impossible ways. Some were tiny, fluttering around in shapes almost… cute, like creatures out of a child's storybook. Their eyes, however, were always aware—watching, calculating, waiting.
Soren hunched his shoulders, backpack heavy, heart pounding. "Why am I the only one who can see them?" he muttered under his breath.
"You're not," the Monster replied from the shadows of his mind. "Most don't last long enough to notice. Most would scream and run, or lose their minds before breakfast."
He sighed, adjusting his sleeve over his wrist like that could somehow hide the tremor in his hands. Every glance toward the corridor made him flinch. A boy passed by, his face normal, but shadow-like wisps curled behind him, almost playful, almost harmless… but still wrong.
Soren walked to his locker, carefully scanning each angle, each corner. He didn't know if anyone else could see them—maybe it was just him—but the presence pressed against him constantly, like a weight he couldn't escape.
"You're acting paranoid," he muttered aloud, but the Monster scoffed. "Paranoid keeps you alive. Ignorance will get you eaten—or worse."
He opened his locker, shoving books inside mechanically, eyes flicking to the figure across the hall. It was tall, with spindly limbs, pale skin stretched too tight over sharp bones, and a head tilted slightly sideways as though it were studying him. Its gaze followed him, and he felt the subtle pull in the air, the same hum he had felt at the ruins and in the streets.
He swallowed. "Just a normal day," he muttered. Normal. Ha. Normal was gone the moment he could see them.
As he closed his locker, something small zipped across the floor—a tiny creature with round eyes and a mischievous grin, its body flickering between solid and shadow. It bounced along like it didn't weigh a thing, and for the first time that morning, Soren felt a twinge of amusement.
"Cute? Seriously?" he whispered.
"Don't underestimate them," the Monster replied, dry. "Cute doesn't mean safe."
The bell rang again, and he moved toward his classroom. Every hallway was crowded, yet he felt completely alone. Figures hovered along the walls, leaning around corners, or perched on ceilings, their attention always somewhere between curiosity and hunger. One in particular caught his eye: a girl-shaped figure with butterfly wings made of smoke. She was floating near the ceiling, tilting her head, and smiling softly at him. Not threatening, but… unsettling.
He blinked, forcing himself to focus on the real world—the other students, their normal chatter. One of them bumped into him. He mumbled an apology, heart still hammering.
"Keep calm," the Monster whispered.
"You're walking among predators. But you have the advantage: they don't know what you're capable of… yet."
Soren slid into his seat at the back, trying to make himself small. The teacher droned on, words floating past him like meaningless noise. Around him, the hall continued to teem with the invisible. Some figures waved, some whispered, and some lingered just long enough to make him shiver.
He pressed his palms to his desk, trying to slow his breathing. "I can't tell anyone," he muttered. "No one would believe me. And even if they did… it wouldn't help."
"Exactly," said the Monster. "So keep your head down, watch, learn. Survive. That's all you can do."
The day stretched endlessly. Every footstep, every glance, every shadow was a test. And Soren realized something chilling: there was no safe place anymore. Not the streets, not his home, not even school.
All around him, the world was full of hidden things. And he had to navigate them alone.