Chapter 1
The shovel bit into the rain-soaked earth with a rhythmic, desperate violence. Each heave of dirt was a frantic prayer, a jagged gasp for air in a world that had grown suffocatingly quiet. The young man’s fingernails were black with soil, bleeding into the grit, but he felt no pain—only the “electric, gnawing anxiety” that vibrated in his marrow. His face was a map of fractured hope, his eyes darting toward the headstone as if the cold marble might suddenly offer a reprieve.
The moon, a pale and sickly sliver, watched him like a judgmental eye as his blade finally struck wood. The sound—a hollow, mocking *thud*—echoed through the silent rows of the dead.
He collapsed to his knees, clawing at the remaining earth with his bare hands until the mahogany lid was bared. With a choked, animalistic sob, he hooked his fingers under the edge and wrenched it upward. The wood groaned, a long-drawn-out shriek of protest that seemed to tear the very atmosphere apart.
The lid flew back.
His breath hitched, a jagged shard of ice catching in his throat. His eyes began to oscillate, shaking in a rhythmic, “terrified tremor” as they scanned the interior. The white silk lining was pristine, untouched by the rot of time, gleaming with a cruel, ghostly brilliance under the moonlight.
It was empty.
He screamed at the top of his lungs as lightning and thunder laughed at his pain under the rainfall..
The image began to flicker, the deep blacks of the graveyard turning to a grainy, high-contrast static. The sound of his sobbing grew distant, echoing as if trapped in a long, hollow pipe. The edges of the memory started to fray, bleeding into a sofft, chromatic blur , until the grave and the boy were nothing but a smudge of grey light against the dark...
The rain didn’t just fall in Timsville; it hammered, turning the world into a blurred grey smear. Eku woke to the sound of it clawing at his window. He was a man of hard angles, long, wavy black hair, knuckles darkened by years of slamming hammers, and lips scarred a permanent, waxy white from chemical burns and heat.
A coughing fit seized him before he could sit up. It was a wet, rattling sound that felt like his lungs were trying to climb out of his throat. He lunged for the cabinet, fingers frantic until they brushed the cardboard of his cigarette pack. He struck a match. The flame flickered, illuminating his lifeless grey eyes for a second before he inhaled. He didn't breathe the smoke; he needed it. To Eku, the nicotine was the only thing holding his decaying cells together. Why would a man take a cold bath during such a rainy weather this are the kind of questions that give you a deeper insight than whatever response you might receive.
He drove through the drizzling traffic in a rusted-out Chevy truck, the wipers squeaking like it was at war with the rain, *The speakers of the rusted Chevy crackled, the signal fighting through a thick layer of static as a slick, overly-enthusiastic voice cut through the rain.
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🎙️ THE AIRWAVES: A K-GRM COMMERCIAL BREAK
> [High-pitched digital squeal followed by a burst of 90s rock synth]
>
> ANNOUNCER: (Voice dripping with artificial honey) "Are you tired of the 'clatter'? Tired of that certain... *uninvited guest* who thinks your living room is her personal courtroom? We know the feeling. The nagging. The judgment. The headache that just won't quit."
>
> [Sound of a woman’s shrill, distorted laughter in the background, abruptly cut off by a heavy, metallic THUD]
>
> ANNOUNCER:"Introducing IRON BRIMMING Hammers. It’s not just for the workshop anymore, folks. This isn't just about breaking through stubborn oak or reinforced concrete. It’s about... problem solving."
>
> [A low, ominous hum vibrates through the speakers]
>
> ANNOUNCER:"Why settle for a headache when you can have Sweet Relief? Guaranteed to split through the most 'annoying' obstacles in your life with the precision of a surgeon and the force of a falling moon. And the best part? Our patented 'Clean-Slate' technology ensures there are no legal consequences. No paperwork. No witnesses. Just the silence you’ve been dreaming of since the wedding day."
>
> [Sound of a heavy hammer hitting an anvil—CLANG]
>
> ANNOUNCER: "Iron Brimming. Because sometimes, the only way to fix the family tree... is to chop it down."
>
> [The signal dissolves back into the white noise of the storm]
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He pulled into "Tree Stock" , the industrial park where the air always tasted of sawdust and damp concrete. As he walked toward Unit 4089, a tall man leaned against a corrugated metal door—Bayo. He wore a pink button-down that looked absurd against the grey sky.
"Tell me, Eku," Bayo called out, his hazel eyes tracking Eku like a hawk. "How many days you got left? I didn’t know cancer took this much time to do it's job."
Eku stopped. He looked at Bayo’s eyes—wondering why his stupid eyes looked both brown and green at the same time —and decided actions were indeed better than words. He stepped forward and buried a leaden fist into the center of that smirk.
The sound of the "crack" was muffled by the rain. Bayo slumped, clutching a nose that was suddenly pouring blood onto his pink collar. Eku didn't wait for a response. He slid his unit’s heavy door open and stepped inside.
"Frost," Eku rasped. "Lovely weather, isn't it?"
His apprentice, a kid who looked too young to be holding a tape measure, didn't look up. "You're thirty-two, of course every weather is a good one."
Eku’s eyes drifted to the workbench. The black box was back. It sat there, an obsidian void among the pine shavings giving him the same rate of emotional instability he feels when ever he sees bayo,a piece of crap that shouldn't be anywhere near me.
"I told you to return that," Eku said, his voice dropping an octave.
"I did," Frost snapped, finally looking up. "The courier brought it back an hour later. Said the address doesn't exist. But the postage was already cancelled. It’s a loop, man."
"I’m calling the dip-shit right now."
Eku stormed out to the communal phone booth. A woman in a leather and fur coat with pearls around her neck, beautiful silky flowing hair of black yet a miserable face was inside, her eyes bloodshot palm pressed against the glass, sobbing into the receiver. *"Yes, it’s me... please, have you found my little girl? No? No!"* She slammed the phone down and ran past Eku, a blur of grief. Eku watched her for a second, feeling the cold urge to say something, but in Timsville, you didn't poke at people's wounds unless you wanted to get bit.
He stepped into the booth, the air smelling of her expensive perfume and fresh peaches. He lit another cigarette, dialed the number from a crumpled slip of paper, and waited.
"Yeah, this is Unit 4089 at Tree Stock," Eku said into the static. "Listen, this weird woodwork you sent... we’re done. We aren’t fixing it. I’m sending it back for the fourth time today. Don't send it back again."
The other end was silent. Not the silence of a hung-up phone, but the silence of a forest. He could hear the wind whistling through branches, a low, rhythmic creaking of wood. No one spoke. He slammed the receiver onto the hook. He put his cigarette away before Making it back to his unit as he didn't want frost ever worrisome personality to kick in.
"Frost, lock up when you're done," Eku said, returning to the unit and grabbing the black box. "I’m taking this to the Post Office myself tomorrow." frost threw an apple he had already peeled to eku, “aye aye captain” said frost..
Eku climbed into his truck. It took three tries and a boat load of swear words never heard before—*crank, crank, sputter*—before the engine caught. He turned the radio dial, catching the tail end of a broadcast: *
>>>The Airwaves
> Radio Host: "...and in 'Life is fucking Timsville ' news, Jennifer ayo has just scooped up her fourth Platinum Smile Award. Four! For what? For literally standing there and existing in three dimensions! I watched the ceremony, folks—she didn't say a word. She just leaned into the mic, flashed those blinding pearly whites, and the judges started throwing trophies at her like they were possessed."
> Co-Host:(Laughing) "How does she do it, man? Is it a superpower? Is it hypnotic dentistry?"
>
> Radio Host: "I’m telling you, it’s the cologne! I heard a rumor her new fragrance,” Audacity,” actually contains trace amounts of concentrated fuck off and illegal fairy dust. One whiff and you’re legally obligated to give her your house and a standing ovation. What is that scent even made of? Distilled luck and the tears of people who actually have talent? It’s a scam, Bob! A beautiful, jasmine-scented scam!"
Eku cut the sound. Pacing slowly to a hospital he goes to on a routine, the rain had gotten slightly calmer—- although his mood remained jaded. Inside the hospital the staff behind the computers upon spotting him, smiled at eku like he was the finest man to ever walk through the door. Cinerica clawbsck is what it said on her name tag, a woman rumored to have a fetish for engaging in sexual deviance with patients on the brisk of death.
In the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway eku spots a man in a white coat with honey-brown skin and eyes as dark and tired as Eku’s stood walking by.. . Bale? He said.
"Well, if it isn't Terminal Man," Bale said.. "The carpenter who couldn't let go."
"Nice to see you too, Bale," Eku muttered.
“And it's a surprise seeing you here at all,” said bale.
"let me guess here for the usual meds you constantly abuse by continuously smoking, and yes I know it's a coping mechanism but I did tell you several years ago that it'll get to this if you don't see a therapist."
"I’m not letting those head-shrinkers into my business," Eku said. "Who knows what they'll turn me into."
Bale looked at him without a layer of doubt on his face.. “Well you're right about that but Between me and you? You’ll most likely be dead tomorrow."
Eku left with a fresh script he knew he wouldn't finish. He went home, ate a bowl of lukewarm instant noodles which he overspiced and sweared through every bite, in his hands was an old photograph of two boys—the intensity of his stare was enough to trigger a response from anyone in public but he was at the comfort of his home. He took one last puff of a cigarette and fell into a sleep that felt like a tomb.
He woke up at 3:00 PM the next day. The room was dark. The black box sat on his cabinet, mocking him.
"Shit."
He threw on his boots and coat, grabbed the box,snatched his Keys off the table and drove to the Post Office. He was barely conscious, the migraine behind his eyes pulsing like a strobe light and the fog surrounding the town made things worse. Inside, the queue was a nightmare of chatter and heat. He saw a man with hair that literally moped the floor eating an apple the size of a bowling ball. The man locked eyes with Eku, then suddenly threw the half-eaten apple at a pregnant woman three spots back as eku blinked the whole que was non existent..
Eku stumbled to the front.
"I need this returned. Sender's address," Eku wheezed, sliding the box across the counter.
The clerk typed slowly, her eyes vacant. "I'm sorry, sir. Our delivery staff won't be reaching this sector today. Or this week."
"I've been in this line for hours!" Eku roared, his vision blurring. "You take the damn box!"
"Do I need to call security?" the clerk asked, her hand moving toward a button.
Eku felt his brain split. He didn't argue. He turned and stumbled out. He didn't know where he was driving into the night, surprised at how much time had passed The radio was a mess of static:
"why can't I find my bloody beeper Stewart don't you know I need it on me.. Every god damn–"
> News Anchor: (Voice low, trembling with a frantic, professional edge) "This is a K-GRM Breaking News Bulletin. We are interrupting our regular programming to bring you a scene of absolute devastation from the Sunshine Bay Daycare Center. Reports are just coming in... and they are harrowing."
>
> The sound of wind and sirens bled into the background as a field reporter took over, her breath hitching in the cold.
>
> Reporter: "The city’s heart has stopped tonight. Jennifer ayo.... the woman whose face defined the 'Blissful Decade'... has been found. Sources within the precinct have confirmed that the star was discovered in a bathroom stall of the very daycare where her daughter was last seen before the Timsville disappearances two months ago. She was found hanging, a lifeless silhouette against the brightly painted walls of a place built for children."
The road vanished. The truck hit the shoulder, rolled through the brush, and plummeted down an embankment into the thick of the woods.
Eku sat in the wreckage, gasping, blood slicking his forehead. He reached for the ignition, but the passenger window shattered. A force—heavy, muscled, and smelling of wet fur—dragged him through the other window as his blood rippled out in his seats..
A beast with whose eyes carried a glowing red covered in a fur of smoke a bipedal wolf stocky built like a powerhouse covered in blood holding eku by his shoulder with its fangs as it stood tall and unbothered by the shadow that had been chasing it.
The wolf threw Eku at the man’s feet. Eku fell in the dirt coughing violently and choking on his own blood as he looked into the face of the man in the shadows bathed by the hue of the full moon.
The man reached down, picking Eku up with an effortless, terrifying strength. He walked to the edge of a deep, black lake.
"You're already dead," the man said.
He dropped Eku into the water. As the cold abyss swallowed the carpenter, he heard the final sound of his old life: the man moving his truck into the water behind him with one push , burying the evidence in the silt.
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