The First Shift Begins
By the time he reached home, he felt like his entire body had been beaten from the inside. Every muscle ached, his head felt heavy, and his legs barely obeyed him. He didn't even care to change his clothes. He walked into his room, dropped straight onto the bed, and passed out instantly.
His parents checked on him later.
His mother whispered, “He’s never slept this deep.”
His father said, “Let him rest. He must be tired.”
They didn’t wake him for dinner. They didn’t even switch on the lights. He was sleeping too heavily, too silently, as if his body was trying to repair itself from something they couldn’t see.
Hours passed.
Around midnight, he suddenly opened his eyes.
His throat was dry like he hadn't had water in days.
A sharp pain shot through his chest when he tried to sit up.
His entire body felt overheated, like he had a fever without the cold.
Still half-asleep, he dragged himself to the kitchen. His steps were unsteady, and he kept touching the walls for support. When he finally reached the sink, he filled a glass and gulped down water like he had been in a desert.
It didn’t help.
The dryness didn’t leave.
He drank more.
Still nothing.
He leaned on the counter, breathing heavily.
His vision was slightly blurred.
His skin was burning.
After a few minutes, he forced himself back to his room and collapsed again.
This time, he didn’t dream at all.
Just darkness.
He didn’t go to school the next day. He didn’t even wake up when his alarm rang. He only opened his eyes when he heard something move near him.
His senses reacted too fast — unnaturally fast.
His eyes focused sharply.
His heartbeat jumped.
His hands almost clenched into fists.
But it was just his brother.
His brother burst into laughter.
“So? Any powers yet? Lightning boy?”
He laughed louder at his own joke and walked away.
The boy didn’t answer.
He didn’t have the strength.
He just turned and fell asleep again.
When he finally woke up properly, it was noon. The room was quiet. The sunlight made a thin line across his blanket. But he didn’t get up. He stayed still, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything from the jungle.
The meditation.
The silence.
The isolation.
The storm.
The lightning.
Especially that moment.
He closed his eyes and remembered the sudden flash, the sound of the sky tearing apart. As soon as he replayed it in his mind, something strange happened:
His heart rhythm changed.
Fast. Hard. Too strong.
His breath deepened.
His hearing sharpened unnaturally.
A faint buzzing sound filled his ears — like electricity flowing through a wire.
His skin heated up again.
His muscles tightened.
His fingers trembled.
It felt like his body was malfunctioning.
The room around him slowly began to distort.
The corners seemed farther.
The colours seemed dimmer.
The air felt heavier.
His mind spun.
“Am I hallucinating?”
“Is this real?”
He tried to open his eyes fully.
Expecting sunlight.
Expecting noon.
But instead…
it was night.
Pitch-dark night.
He froze.
He checked the clock.
It was 12:41 AM.
But he had JUST woken up at noon.
At least… he thought he did.
His body trembled as he sat up. His heartbeat was too fast. His throat suddenly felt dry again — painfully dry.
He reached for the bottle of water near his bed. His hand shook so much he almost dropped it.
As he drank, the world around him flickered — just for a second.
Like reality blinked.
Something was happening to him.
His body was reacting to something.
His senses were changing.
The boy didn’t understand any of it…
but one
thing was clear:
Whatever began in the jungle was still inside him.
Growing.
Awakening.
Waiting for the next trigger.
By SF MASTER
