The Nightmare Code

The first real death happened that night.

Ethan didn't know it yet, but by the time he went to sleep, the city had already claimed its first victim.

And by the time he woke up, the nightmares had spread. Ethan didn't want to sleep. He fought it. But 3:33 AM came like clockwork.

And the moment his eyes shut, he was there.

Fulton Street.

The air was heavier this time, pressing against his skin like wet cement. The buildings around him groaned as if they were alive, stretching and twisting at impossible angles.

But something was different.

The street wasn't empty anymore.

There was a sound—low and wet, like someone trying to breathe through blood.

Ethan turned his head slowly.

A man stood in the middle of the street.

At least... he thought it was a man.

His clothes were torn, soaked red from the deep gashes running down his arms and chest. His mouth hung open, his jaw barely attached, his teeth slick with something dark. His eyes were wide, bloodshot—filled with panic.

And he was trying to scream.

But no sound came out.

Ethan's breath hitched.

Then, suddenly—

The man was yanked backward into the darkness.

Gone.

Just like that.

Ethan stumbled back, heart hammering.

Then the whispers started.

They came from all around him, slithering through the air like invisible snakes.

"He was real."

"He didn't wake up."

Ethan's stomach twisted.

He wasn't alone in this nightmare.

There were others.

And some of them were dying here.

The next morning, the city was buzzing.

Something had happened overnight.

Ethan didn't hear about it until he got to school.

"Dude, did you hear?" Jax hissed, pulling him aside near their lockers. "Some guy was found dead on Fulton Street. Like, brutally murdered."

Ethan's blood went cold.

"What?"

Jax nodded, his voice low. "It's all over the news. Some businessman. They found him in the middle of the street—torn apart."

Ethan's throat felt dry.

No.

No, it couldn't be—

But deep down, he knew.

It was him.

The man from his nightmare.

The one who had tried to scream.

The one who had been dragged away.

Maya, Lucy, and Reed appeared beside them, their faces pale.

They had already heard.

And the look in their eyes told Ethan exactly what he didn't want to believe.

They had seen him too.

He wasn't just a dream.

He had been real.

And now he was dead.

It's Not Just Them Anymore

By lunch, the whispers had started.

Not the nightmare whispers—real ones.

Students murmuring, scrolling through their phones, sharing screenshots from the news.

The glitches were getting worse.

People were starting to notice.

The lunchroom TV flickered, the live news report briefly glitching, showing something it shouldn't have.

For half a second, the screen turned black.

And then a face appeared—warped, shifting, wrong.

It had no eyes.

No mouth.

Just a blur, stretching and distorting, as if reality itself was trying to erase it.

And then—snap—the news returned, the anchor continuing like nothing had happened.

But the cafeteria had gone silent.

People had seen it.

This wasn't just some weird dream anymore.

The nightmare was breaking into real life.

And it was getting stronger.