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Like it’s enjoying the fact that I understood it enough to react.
I swallow hard. My mouth feels dry.
“I…” My voice breaks slightly. I clear my throat. “It’s saying I’m still waiting for something.”
Boyd’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpens.
Kenny pushes off the wall a little.
“Waiting for what?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head fast.
“I don’t know.”
That’s the truth.
And it feels worse than anything else I could’ve said.
Because the thing outside doesn’t sound like it’s guessing. It sounds like it’s correcting me.
Another tap hits the glass.
Once.
Deliberate.
Then the voice returns, closer than before.
“You know.”
My stomach drops.
“No,” I whisper automatically.
Boyd raises a hand slightly. A silent warning.
“Don’t engage,” he says.
But it’s too late. Because something in me already did.
Outside, the figure shifts. Just slightly. Enough that I see the outline of its face better. Still human-shaped. Still wrong.
The smile doesn’t move.
But the eyes-
the eyes feel like they’re holding something still.
Like they’ve been waiting a very long time for me to answer correctly.
Kenny moves closer to Boyd.
“Has it ever done that before?” I ask, voice thin.
Boyd doesn’t answer right away.
That silence is answer enough.
My chest tightens.
“So this is normal for you?” I say, louder now. “People standing outside saying creepy personal stuff and you just ignore it until it goes away?”
Kenny flinches slightly at my tone.
Boyd finally speaks.
“It doesn’t go away,” he says.
That lands wrong. My brain tries to reject it immediately.
“What do you mean it doesn’t go away?”
A beat.
Then Boyd says it like he hates the sentence before it leaves his mouth:
“It waits until you let it in.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Thick.
Outside, the voice softens again. Almost conversational now.
“You always do this part the same way.”
My breath catches.
Kenny looks at me. Really looks. Like he’s trying to understand something he’s not equipped for.
“Did it say that to you before?” he asks.
I shake my head quickly.
“No. I’ve never been here before. I’ve never—”
But even as I say it, my stomach twists harder.
Because the certainty in the voice isn’t about location.
It isn’t about the town. It’s about me.
Boyd steps forward again, this time toward me instead of the window.
“Listen to me,” he says firmly.
I force my eyes onto him.
“Whatever it says, whatever it’s trying to make you think, it’s not you.”
I laugh once. Small. Broken.
“Then what is it?”
Boyd hesitates.
That hesitation feels like a crack forming in something solid.
Then-
“It’s what’s out there,” he says simply. “And it’ll use whatever it can get.”
Outside, the smile widens.
Like it heard him. Like it agrees.
And then-
the voice lowers again.
Soft.
Almost intimate.
“Still waiting for the drop.”
My entire body goes cold.
Everything stops.
Not metaphorically.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
Because that sentence-
that sentence doesn’t belong in this place.
That sentence belongs in me.
My knees feel weak. I take a step back without realizing it.
Kenny notices immediately.
“Hey,” he says sharply, moving toward me.
But I can’t look away from the window anymore.
Because the thing outside-
it’s not just smiling now.
It looks satisfied.
Like it finally said the right thing.
And I realize, with a sick twist in my stomach-
it didn’t just find me. It recognized me.
Kenny notices before I do.
"Hey."
His voice cuts through whatever is happening in my head.
I blink.
The room rushes back all at once.
The desk. The walls.
Boyd standing a few feet away.
My own heartbeat pounding so hard it feels like it's shaking my ribs.
Only then do I realize my hand is pressed against my stomach. Like I'm trying to hold something still.
Kenny takes a step closer.
"Are you okay?"
No. Not even a little.
But I can't explain why.
Because the feeling is wrong.
Not stronger.
Different.
My whole life that unease sat low in my stomach like background noise. Constant. Familiar. A song playing in another room that I eventually stopped hearing.
Now it feels concentrated.
Focused.
Like somebody took all of it and shoved it into one tiny spot beneath my ribs. Like it's pointing somewhere.
The thing outside hums softly.
My stomach twists again.
Hard.
A sharp breath escapes me.
Boyd notices immediately.
His eyes narrow.
"What is it?"
"I..." I swallow. "I don't know."
Another soft tap against the glass.
The feeling spikes. Instantly.
So sudden my knees nearly buckle.
Kenny reaches out automatically, grabbing my arm before I can stumble.
His hand is warm.
Solid. Real.
"What happened?" he asks.
I stare at the floor. At his hand around my sleeve. At the way my fingers are shaking.
"It..." My voice comes out thin. "It did it again."
Kenny and Boyd exchange a look.
Not the weird silent communication thing again.
Anything but that.
"What did?" Boyd asks carefully.
I slowly lift my head.
"The feeling."
Silence.
Great.
Perfect.
I sound insane now.
I laugh weakly.
"I know how that sounds."
Neither of them says anything. That somehow makes it worse.
I press my hand harder against my stomach.
"It's just..." I shake my head. "I've always had this weird feeling. Like..." I hesitate.
Because I've never actually said this out loud before. Not really.
"Like a constant pit in my stomach. Call it impending doom or something like that. My whole life I've felt like I have been just waiting for something bad to happen but it never comes."
The room goes still.
Outside, the thing laughs again.
Soft. Pleased.
And my stomach twists so violently I flinch.
Kenny's eyes flick to me immediately. Then to the window. Then back to me.
Slowly, his expression changes.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Something else.
Because he saw it too.
The timing.
And suddenly I realize the feeling isn't happening randomly.
The silence between us stretches longer than I can stand. Kenny doesn't rush to fill it.
He just stands there with his hands in his pockets, watching me carefully like he's waiting to see if I'm going to bolt.
Honestly, I consider it.
I glance back toward my car still sitting outside the diner.
I could get in.
I could drive.
I could keep driving until I hit another road, another town, another person who didn't look at me like they already knew something terrible.
My fingers twitch at my sides.
"Can I leave?" I ask suddenly.
Maybe this is some cruel joke. Some elaborate prank and the film crew will jump out at any second.
Kenny's expression shifts.
Not pity. Something worse.
Understanding.
My stomach sinks before he even answers.
"If you could," he says carefully, "don't you think everyone else would've already done it?"
I stare at him.
"No."
"No?"
"No, I mean....no." I shake my head hard enough that my hair falls into my face. "No. Absolutely not. I don't....people don't just get trapped somewhere. That's insane."
My laugh comes out thin. Sharp. Wrong.
"You hear how insane that sounds, right?"
Kenny studies me for a second.
"So what is this purgatory? Am I dead?" My thoughts ramble out of my mouth. I mean, maybe I ran into that tree and this is just where I am meant to suffer for the rest of eternity? God, what am I even saying.
Kenny glances toward the sky. I follow his gaze automatically.
The sun is still up, but lower than I remember. Hadn't I just gotten here?
No. Not just.
Time feels slippery suddenly.
"Come on," Kenny says quietly.
He starts walking before I answer. I hesitate.
"Come on where?"
He looks back over his shoulder.
"We should get you somewhere."
Somewhere. Not home. Not your car. Not back to the highway.
Just somewhere.
"So are you not going to answer my questions?" I chatter back as I follow behind him like a lost puppy. Kenny shakes his head as he walks ahead of me.
"I never said I wouldn't answer your questions. We just to need to get inside before dark. We can't risk it."
Risk it? What does that even mean?
Before I can respond, the sound of a bell meets my ears.
Ahead of us, a man walks down the lone street ringing a bell. He just walks nonchalantly, almost as if this is routine for him. From afar, I can tell he's wearing some kind of badge. An officer, maybe?
Kenny slows beside him.
"Found her at the diner," he says simply.
The man looks me over for a moment. Not in a suspicious way. More like he’s checking for injuries after a car accident. Or checking whether I’m about to break down.
Great.
"You must be the newcomer," the man with the bell says again.
I stare at him.
Newcomer. Like I just moved into town. Like there was a welcome basket waiting for me somewhere. I mean, I could really use some wine right now.
I glance between the two of them.
"You all keep saying things that make me feel like I'm having a stroke."
Kenny coughs beside me, clearly trying not to laugh.
This has to be some cruel joke.
The man's mouth twitches slightly.
"I'm Boyd."
He offers his hand.
I look at it. Then at him. Then back at his hand.
"You ring bells often?" I ask cautiously.
His eyebrows lift.
"The bell thing's throwing me off."
For a second, he just stares at me. Then a quiet laugh escapes him. Actually laughs. Okay, am I missing the joke?
Kenny drops his head, shaking it.
"Seriously?" he mutters.
"What?" I whisper harshly. "I'm sorry if creepy town traditions aren't easing my nerves."
Boyd lets out a breath through his nose, amusement fading as his expression softens.
"The bell means people need to start getting home."
My stomach drops.
Home. Something about that word feels wrong here.
"Why?" I ask.
The smile disappears from Boyd's face completely.
The air feels colder suddenly.
He looks toward the sky. The sun hangs lower now. Far lower than I remember.
"Because you don't want to be outside after dark."
Silence. I wait. For a punchline. For someone to smile.
Nobody does.
--
"So there are monsters that come out at night? Am I hearing you correctly?"
I find myself pacing within the makeshift police station. The curtains are closed and the sun is nearly set.
Boyd and Kenny exchange a look.
I stop pacing.
No one answers immediately.
"No," I say, pointing between them. "No, don't do that. Don't do the weird silent communication thing."
Kenny shifts against the wall.
"They come out at night," Boyd says carefully. "They look like people."
I blink.
"Okay so vampires? Werewolves? That sort of thing?" I reply.
Vampires doesn't sound entirely terrible. Maybe they're hot like Edward Cullen, I could work with that.
"Like Edward Cullen!" I add trying to lighten the mood.
Kenny blinks at me. Boyd just stares.
"...Edward Cullen?" Kenny repeats slowly.
Heat crawls up my neck.
"Okay, not the point," I say quickly, waving my hand. "I'm spiraling. People spiral. Continue."
Boyd rubs a hand across his face.
"No vampires."
"No werewolves."
I nod once.
"Okay."
A beat.
"They look normal," he says.
I stare at him.
"What do you mean normal?"
"They look like us," Kenny says quietly.
Something in my stomach tightens. I don't like the way he says us.
Boyd leans back against the desk, arms crossing over his chest.
"They'll talk to you."
My eyebrows pull together.
"...Talk?"
"They'll smile at you," Kenny adds.
"They'll ask you to let them in."
I let out a small laugh.
Nope. Absolutely not.
"Great, just great" I mumble to myself, "I thought going home was bad. Look where I ended up now."
Kenny lets out a quiet breath through his nose beside me. Not exactly a laugh, but close.
Boyd doesn't. His eyes stay on the window.
I notice it immediately.
Actually, I notice a lot of things immediately.
The room feels quieter now. Too quiet. The sounds from outside are gone. No footsteps. No distant voices. No wind.
Nothing.
Slowly, I look toward the windows.
The sunlight that had spilled across the floor earlier is gone.
In its place are long shadows stretching across the room.
My stomach twists. That familiar feeling returns. Only now it isn't sitting quietly beneath my ribs. Now it's climbing. Slowly. Like hands wrapping around my throat.
"...Why is it so quiet?" I ask softly. The grip on my throat tightens.
Neither of them answer right away.
Kenny looks at Boyd. Boyd looks at the clock. Then back at me.
"Because they're out now."
Something taps against the window.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
My body goes rigid. Nobody moves. Nobody breathes.
Slowly, my eyes drift toward the curtains. I can see the faint outline of someone standing outside. Just standing there. Waiting.
A soft voice slips through the glass.
"Hello there, darling"
My stomach drops.
The voice is gentle. Almost warm. Like someone speaking to a nervous animal.
"You don't have to be scared."
Nope.
Absolutely not.
I stare at Kenny.
Kenny stares at the window.
Boyd's jaw tightens.
Another pause.
Then—
"You can stop waiting now."
My breath catches.
Everything inside me stops.
The room.
The air.
My thoughts.
Those words hit something buried so deep inside me I don't understand why they hurt.
My whole life had been waiting.
Waiting for the drop.
Waiting for something terrible.
Waiting for something I couldn't explain.
And outside that window, someone smiles.
"Must be nice."
My heart thumps in my chest.
"Not feeling it for once."
Cold spreads through me so suddenly I nearly stop breathing.
The waiting. The impending doom. I've never told a soul about it.
Not my parents. Not friends. Not therapists.
Nobody.
My eyes stay locked on the curtains.
No.
No, no, no.
My mouth suddenly feels dry.
"...Kenny."
My voice barely comes out.
Kenny still hasn't looked at me.
His eyes stay fixed on the window.
"Don't answer it."
"I wasn't going to answer it," I whisper harshly.
Another soft tap.
Then another.
Like fingernails brushing lightly against glass.
The voice hums quietly from outside.
Almost amused.
"Still waiting for it."
My stomach twists.
"Always waiting for it."
My pulse pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears.
Because now I'm not scared. Not in the normal way. I'm terrified.
Because monsters knowing your name?
Fine.
Monsters trying to trick you?
Terrible.
This felt different.
This felt like meeting someone who'd been watching me long before I knew they existed.
Boyd slowly pushes himself off the desk.
"What exactly is it saying?" he asks.
My head snaps up so fast my neck hurts.
"What?"
His expression hardens.
"I asked what it's saying."
The room suddenly feels very, very small. Because Kenny is looking at me now too.
I was never fond of roadtrips. Many find solace in the open roads, I find them unnerving. The in-between is what I like to call it. I am nor here or there.
Never-ending roads and tree fill my eye line as I drive the routine route to my childhood home. It's only a six hour drive, but it does me in every time. The mundaneness of it all leaves me to my own mind. Something I tend to avoid.
Pushing the volume higher, I fill my ears with music to drown out the harsh silence of the open roads. I have never done well with silence. My mother would force me to sit in my room with no sound as punishment because she knew how much I despised it. The thought of that reminds me of how much I despise even coming home. My family is nothing interesting. There's my mom and dad, and then my two older siblings. My childhood was not entirely rainbows and sunshine but it wasn't a horror story. At least from what I can remember.
I just never felt connected. Always a little off to the side. My siblings were inseparable even in photos, while I always seemed slightly removed from the frame.
My mother used to say it was because I was the youngest. That it was normal.
Maybe it was.
But coming home always brings that feeling back. The same quiet loneliness I grew up with. It never really left. I just learned how to cover it. Music, friends, a drink here and there. Anything to keep it from getting too loud.
But it’s still there.
Every mile closer to home, the unease grows stronger. I find myself taking back roads, stretching time, delaying the inevitable.
Driving through a long stretch of road, I’m surrounded by nothing but trees. Distracted by the scenery and my music, I barely notice how few cars I’ve passed.
Then the radio cracks.
Stevie Nicks’ voice flickers in and out, swallowed by static.
I hit the console a few times. “Seriously?”
Alone with my thoughts, I focus back on the road. Squinting my eyes, I see something up ahead. Something large. Maybe a semi flipped?
Growing closer, the dark object makes shape into a large tree. It seems to have fallen into the road. Halting my car near the tree, I get out of the car.
Its so quiet. Only wind through trees. My own boots on pavement.
That's when I feel it.
The quiet. The stillness.
I stare at the tree, and for a moment, the constant weight in my stomach loosens. Not gone, just… different. Like it’s listening.
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of crows in the distance. Well, there goes my silence.
Looking up, the crows infiltrate the blue skies above me. The unease is back. The crows begin landing on the tree and surround me. They're screaming at me, almost warning of me what lies past the tree. The wind begins to pick up around me, almost pulling me towards the tree.
The crows begin screaming louder and louder. Screaming at me to leave, to run.
I step back instinctively.
My breath turns sharp.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Then I turn and run for the car. I don’t think. I just move.
Inside, I lock the door and reverse fast, leaving the tree behind.
Whatever that was, I don’t want to know.
Back on the road, I exhale shakily.
“Just stick to the highway,” I mutter. “Normal people stick to the highway.”
The radio is still dead. Of course it is.
The long stretch of road seems never-ending till I find myself seeing a town in the distance. Weird, I don't remember passing by a town. Reaching closer to the town, I notice how run down it seems. The buildings seem outdated from at least the 1950s. Perhaps its just some abandoned ghost town.
It seems bare till I see a few people walking around. My heart rate slowly begins rising. Something feels off. The townspeople just stare at me as I pass by. Not even waving or smiling.
Just watching me as if I am irregular. Out of place.
Passing by old homes, I keep my head straight. Just breathe and keep driving. Its just some weird cult town probably, I think to myself. The road finally leads back to the trees. Releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding, I get back on track. That was fucking weird. I guess you really can run into anything out here.
“That was weird,” I say aloud.
But the trees are familiar again. Normal again.
I keep driving.
A few minutes pass.
The town appears again. Exactly the same.
My stomach drops so hard I go lightheaded.
“No,” I whisper.
That’s impossible.
I keep driving anyway.
Because what else am I supposed to do?
But there it is again. The same streets. The same buildings. The same still figures watching me pass.
My pulse spikes.
I slow this time.
Should I turn around? Stop? Check my map?
My mind spins through possibilities—accident, detour, something rational I can hold onto.
Diners are safe, right?
People. Witnesses. Normalcy.
I pull off the road before I can talk myself out of it.
“Just ask for directions,” I whisper.
I tug at my sweater as I walk towards the diner. The wind goes right through me. People nearby just watch me. Its not so much fascination, but almost mournful? Confusion floods me again.
Reaching the door, I finally work up the courage to enter. The smell of coffee and eggs hit me as I enter. Hm, smells normal enough for a diner, I think to myself. Looking around, I notice that all eyes turn to me. God, I'm going to die, aren't I?
The diner seems to be a time capsule, which could've been charming under different circumstances. The patrons eye me as I take in my surroundings.
"Excuse me?"
A guy with short dark hair, freckles, kind eyes that don’t quite reach whatever heaviness sits behind them.
"You lost?"
"Yeah, I'm trying to get back to the highway but I seem to be going in circles," I nervously chatter back. My voice wavers even though I try my hardest to cover it.
He gives me a small smile and tilts his head toward the door.
“Let’s talk outside, yeah?”
Which, honestly, beats being stared at by an entire diner full of strangers.
I follow him out.
Outside again, the air feels no better. Maybe worse. The silence stretches too far in every direction.
He keeps his hands in his pockets, scanning the road, the trees, the empty stretch of everything that doesn’t look like anywhere I’ve ever been.
“Did you come with anyone else?” he asks.
Just what a murderer would say. Great.
“I—no,” I say, shaking my head.
My voice almost doesn’t make it out.
Something in my chest tightens. That familiar pull returns—low and sharp, like my body is bracing for something I can’t see yet.
I feel like I can’t breathe properly.
He doesn’t say anything right away.
That’s the first thing I notice.
Just a pause small, almost polite, but it stretches a little too long to be casual. His eyes flick past me, toward the road behind us, like he’s checking something I can’t see.
“You don’t remember getting here?” he finally asks.
I blink.
“What do you mean?”
A faint crease forms between his brows, and for the first time since I met him, the calm in his face shifts. Not into panic. Not even surprise. Something closer to resignation.
Like he already knows where this is going.
“You don’t remember the tree,” he says carefully.
My stomach tightens. The unease crawls up my throat.
“I remember the tree,” I say immediately. “That’s why I’m here. I just need to get back to the highway. My GPS is messed up or something, I think I’m just—”
“You’re not on a highway,” he interrupts gently.
It’s said like a fact he’s had to explain before. Like he’s practiced it. Like he’s tired of saying it out loud.
I let out a short laugh that doesn’t feel like mine. I feel like I'm going crazy.
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking,” he says.
Silence settles between us.
Heavy. Pressing.
I glance back toward the diner. The windows. The people still watching.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Then I took a wrong turn. There’s a detour or construction or something. That happens all the time.”
My mind is scrambling to make sense of what's going on around me.
He shakes his head once.
“No,” he says again. Softer this time. “It doesn’t.”
My throat goes dry.
I feel it again. This time sharper. Not just unease. Not just that rollercoaster drop. Something deeper. Like my body is recognizing a truth my mind is refusing to touch.
He watches me carefully now.
And suddenly, the air feels different again.
My chest tightens, fast and instinctive, like my body is reacting to something I haven’t been told yet.
He exhales through his nose, like he’s trying to figure out what to say next.
“I’m Kenny,” he says after a beat.
Like that’s supposed to help. Like names mean anything here.
I nod too quickly. “Okay. Kenny.”
I repeat it, just to anchor it somewhere in my head.
Kenny glances back toward the diner again, then the road, then me. Like he’s checking all three are still where they’re supposed to be.
“You’re not the first person to end up here confused,” he says.
That doesn’t make me feel better. It makes my stomach drop a little further.
“So what, this is like… a town that people get lost in?” I ask, trying to force some logic into it. “Like a weird GPS dead zone or—”
“No,” Kenny says gently.
That one word again.
Simple. Final.
My mouth goes dry.
He shifts his weight, looking like he’s deciding how much to say. Like there’s a version of this conversation he’s had before, and he’s trying to pick the least damaging one.
“You came in by car,” he says.
I nod.
“There was a tree in the road.”
Another nod.
“You turned around,” he continues.
“Yes.”
Kenny watches me for a second too long.
“And then you were here.”
My breath catches.
“That’s not possible,” I say immediately.
He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t try to convince me.
That’s worse.
Because people argue when they think you can still be pulled back into normal.
Kenny just looks at me like I’ve already crossed a line I can’t un-cross.
“You’re in the town now,” he says quietly. “That’s what happens.”
Something cold spreads through my chest. Not fear exactly. Realization trying to become fear.
And my body responds before my mind can catch up.
That same feeling. That lifelong drop.
Except now it isn’t background noise anymore.
It sharpens.
Like something in the air just noticed me noticing it back.
hello, my lovelies! here is chapter one of my FROM fanfic! i am not sure where this is going to go yet but i had fun writing it. we shall see where this goes~
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
You know that feeling before you reach the drop of a rollercoaster? That uneasiness pulling in your gut knowing that something is coming. Impending doom, some would call it.
Since I was young, its been constant.
It was a constant pull in my stomach, low and tight, like a knot that had been tied there before I was old enough to notice. Not too painful, but a constant reminder of uneasiness.
Like that suspended moment where your body already knows what’s coming, even if your mind hasn’t caught up yet. It has never left me.
It followed me through everything. Every achievement, every heartache.
Quiet mornings. Ordinary conversations. Laughing at things that were supposed to feel normal.Even then, underneath it all, there it was—that slow, sinking anticipation.
As if vertigo was going to hit me at any second, but it never hits.
I grew up thinking this was normal. That everyone felt it. Thinking maybe this was just what being alive meant, and nobody talked about it.
But as I got older, I started to realize other people weren’t constantly bracing for impact. They weren't in a constant state of waiting. Waiting for the glass to shatter. They weren’t waiting for the drop.
They weren’t listening for something that never fully arrived.
I spent so many nights begging and pleading the sky to finally hit me. Finally show me what I have been waiting for. I spent so many sleepless nights clawing at my stomach and screaming into my pillow.
hi !! this is a little teaser to what may become a FROM fanfic! i found myself searching for fanfics but there is so little, so i thought i may take a crack at it.
let me know if you guys would like more : )
if there is any type of trope, or even single fanfic that you would like written about a certain character, comment below! we need more FROM fics!
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