I once heard an old saying: “The more things change, the more they stay the sa” I can’t quite rember where I first ca across those words, nor who originally spoke them. All I know is this: that saying couldn’t be further from the truth.
Sowhere along the way—almost without noticing—the gears began to grind, certainties unraveled, and everything around simply started to fall apart.
One mont, I was just a college student, buried under exams, overdue assignnts, and the constant anxiety of an uncertain future; the next, I was hurled straight into a waking nightmare.
Suddenly, every step I took was a struggle against the unknown, every shadow hid a threat, and reality boiled down to one rule as simple as it was cruel: hunt... or be hunted.
But in the end, even I couldn’t escape the fate of becoming prey. Not when a colossal snake erged from the shadows—so massive its sinuous, scaly body could easily have been mistaken for the twisted trunk of so ancient tree.
Its movents were silent, almost hypnotic, and the air around seed to grow heavier, as if the forest itself was holding its breath before that monstrous creature.
Its amber eyes burned with a cold, rciless hunger, glowing like embers trapped in ancient darkness. Each scrape of its scales against the earth sounded like a harsh whisper, an inevitable on of the death drawing near.
The air thickened, heavy and suffocating, as though even the woods had fallen into reverent silence, bearing witness to the inevitable clash between predator and prey.
The last image my eyes managed to catch was of strangers rushing toward , their faces etched with worry and urgency. And yet, behind them, sothing even more disturbing caught my attention: I was there... staring at myself.
But it wasn’t the “” I knew. It was a female version of . Before I could make sense of what that ant, everything was swallowed by complete darkness.
***
The first thing I did after waking up was lift one hand to my face, desperately trying to block the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the blinds — which, in theory, were supposed to cover the window completely. My eyes were still heavy with sleep, stubbornly trying to close again, but reality hit hard and without rcy: it was Monday.
"That was one of the strangest... and most vivid dreams I've ever had" I mumbled to myself, making a serious effort to get out of bed.
I could barely rember the dream, which, to be honest, wasn’t anything new. But it wasn’t a total blank either — fragnts still lingered, pieces of images floating in the back of my mind. The clearest one was the sensation of being on a train.
Not just a vague mory, but sothing so sharp it actually felt like I was still there, swaying gently with the rhythm of the tracks and hearing the distant echo of the wheels grinding against the rails.
"After that… sothing happened..." I muttered, touching my forehead like that might help lift the fog clouding my mory.
In the end, everything was a blur, just like any dream usually is. All that’s left are vague impressions, scattered fragnts that fade over ti. Thɪs chapter is updated by novel★fire
Still, one scene refused to disappear — probably because it was the scene of my own death. The stabbing pain in my chest had been so intense, so real, that even now, awake, I could still feel it like a shadow clinging to the back of my mind.
And I wasn’t alone — there was a girl beside , strikingly beautiful. But what really stuck with was the final image before I woke up. It was weird — almost surreal. Sohow, I wasn’t just seeing my reflection in her eyes... I was seeing myself through them, like for a brief mont, I was her.
"They say dreams have anings… So what kind of aning would mine have?" I murmured as I finally pulled myself out of bed.
In the end, I chose to let it go. There was no point in clinging to a dream, like that would sohow change anything in my life. Five minutes after waking up, already knee-deep in my usual routine — brushing my teeth, eating breakfast — I found myself standing at the door.
I looked back one last ti at the inside of my apartnt. The place was dark and cold. Well, I had turned the lights off, so the darkness made sense.
“I’m heading out” I said loud enough that soone could’ve heard — but the only answer was silence, like my words had just vanished into the air.
As I walked along the sidewalk toward the subway station that would take to campus, I glanced up at the sky. As usual, the heat was unbearable. Honestly, the last few days had felt like a furnace. Temperatures had been so extre that even the experts were starting to sound surprised.
Still, none of that really had anything to do with . I was just your average college student, living with a decent amount of stability thanks to the money I’d gotten from my adoptive parents.
That was their way of showing they cared when I told them I’d be moving out for college. Truth is, neither of them had ever been particularly great at showing affection.
They already had a biological daughter when they adopted . Later, I found out they had lost a son the year before I ca into their lives. Chances are, they adopted trying to fill that void — maybe hoping I’d take the place of the one they lost.
Still, I don’t hold it against them. In their own awkward way, they tried to love — and whether I liked it or not, during the ti we lived together, all three of them showed affection in the ways they knew how.
Anyway, I’m far from popular at my college. Honestly, I think most people just see as a weirdo — and I don’t really try to change that. The truth is, so parts of childhood just stick with you into adulthood.
In my case, it’s being introverted and naturally distant. I prefer silence over aningless chatter and my own thoughts over a noisy group.
So it’s not surprising people see as solitary, reserved — maybe even strange. But truth be told, I’ve never really cared what people think. Living my life my own way has always felt more honest than trying to please a bunch of strangers.
My train of thought was interrupted when I reached the underground entrance to the subway. I started heading down the stairs, my eyes scanning the area, half-hidden behind my annoyingly long bangs.
As usual, the subway was packed. I’ve never been great with crowds. It’s not like I feel anxious or panicky around them — I just don’t like them. Maybe it’s because I’m so used to being alone most of the ti.
While I was waiting on the platform, so nearby voices caught my attention. A group of guys and girls, probably my age, were chatting energetically.
Usually, the people riding the subway at that ti are college students, and since my college is the closest stop along this line, I figure they were headed there too.
Their conversation, full of laughter and jokes, matched the fast-paced, energetic rhythm of student life. Of course, I had no idea who they were. I’m not exactly the social type — in fact, I kind of take pride in saying I don’t have any friends.
That doesn’t an I don’t know people — but if you ask , we just hang out sotis. I don’t know if “friends” is the right word.
A few minutes later, the train finally arrived, and everyone got on. I, of course, headed straight to the back, where it was less crowded, which helped avoid unnecessary interaction.
Again, it’s not that I’m asocial — I just prefer being alone. Trying to form deep connections feels exhausting and pointless most of the ti.
I didn’t have anything to do until I got to school, so I just sat there, watching the people around . Not that there were many — just a few students, probably from my college... probably.
To be honest, I’m not great at rembering things that don’t directly impact my life. As usual, I tuned everything out and focused on my phone’s news feed while waiting for the train to reach campus.
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