Behind the veil

The house was quiet, as it always was in the early hours of the morning. A dull, gray light filtered through the old, musty curtains, casting soft shadows against the walls. Evelyn had woken early, as she always did, the first rays of dawn barely visible through the fog that had settled over the town. She stretched, a habitual action that was meant to ease the weight of another restless night. Let´´ s face it, that never happened. But today felt different—she couldn’t place why, but something about the air was… wrong. Odd, even.

     She stood up from the bed, her bare feet cold against the hardwood floor, and made her way to the kitchen. The old house creaked beneath her steps, the familiar sounds only amplifying the silence that stretched through the rooms. After about ten steps, Evelyn regretted not wearing socks. The coldness of the floor seeped throug her feet and traveled all the way to her head. Evelyn shivered violently. Extraordinary iciness.

As she passed the hallway mirror, she caught a glimpse of her reflection—disheveled hair, a pale face, tired eyes that looked almost hollow. It was as though she was seeing herself for the first time in years. Was that how she really looked?

     She shook the thought away and moved forward, the echo of her footsteps feeling unusually loud in the stillness. The kitchen, too, was exactly how it should be: the same worn countertops, the chipped mugs on the shelf, the thick smell of coffee in the air. Evelyn reached for the kettle, her hands moving without thinking. She had done this every morning for what felt like a lifetime. It should have been comforting. But the longer she stood there, the more uneasy she felt. What was the source of this feeling? A lingering nightmare somewhere in the depth of her consciousness perhaps? Or just a regular Sunday. Was it even Sunday?

      She poured the water into her mug, watching as the steam rose in soft curls, but it didn’t feel like it should. The warmth was absent, the scent of the coffee bitter rather than comforting. It wasn’t the way it had been the day before. Or the day before that. She clenched her jaw, staring at the cup. The world outside the kitchen window was still, too—like the morning had frozen in time.

     Something's wrong.

     The thought was sudden, a sharp ache in her chest that made her breath catch. She had always known the house was old, had always known it was full of memories that couldn’t be erased. But today, it wasn’t just the house that felt wrong. It was the whole town. Evelyn’s mind raced, trying to piece things together. The town’s streets outside had always been the same: the small park, the aging bookstore on the corner, the grocery store with the faded sign. She knew them all. Knew the way the light hit the buildings at different times of the day, the smell of damp earth after it rained. The acidic smell of sewage on the corner of North Street. The secretive whispers in the forest behind her house.

     But today, nothing seemed the same. The town was… silent. Not the peaceful silence of early mornings, but something heavier, as though the air itself was thick with a sense of waiting.

The kettle whistled, pulling her from her thoughts. She poured the hot water into her mug and lifted it to her lips. The taste was wrong. The bitterness of the coffee was sharp, unpleasant. Her throat tightened as she tried to swallow, but it felt like the weight of something unspoken was pressing against her chest, making it harder to breathe. The warmth she had expected from the liquid was absent.

The coldness of the floor was gone too. Was it ever there or was it just some memory trying to resurface? An old feeling trying to remind itself.

     She set the cup down, the sound of porcelain against wood louder than she intended. Her gaze moved to the window, where the fog had deepened, swirling around the trees like an ominous presence. The clock on the wall ticked, the sound sharp and persistent, like a reminder that time was slipping away. Her time.

     Evelyn couldn’t ignore it anymore. She had to leave the house. She had to know what was wrong.

     Her feet carried her automatically to the front door, but as she reached for the knob, a sudden rush of unease surged through her. She paused, her fingers hovering above the cold metal, as if something was telling her to stop. The house, her home, had always been a place of safety, of warmth. But now, it felt like a cage, the walls pressing in on her. The door—this door—seemed wrong now, as though it had been shut for much longer than it should have been.

     Evelyn pushed the thought away. She was being irrational. The door opened with a creak, and she stepped into the dim light of the porch like a careful bird testing its wings for the very first time. The air outside was damp, the fog still thick, curling around the edges of the house like a waiting hand. She could see the town beyond, just beyond the street corner—the familiar places she had walked past for years. But now, they were different. The buildings seemed… empty, as though they were nothing more than hollow shells. There was no movement. No sound. No nothing.

     She took a step down the porch steps, and then another. Her feet felt heavy, her body unwilling to move faster, as if the earth beneath her was trying to pull her down. It was hard to breathe in the heavy, damp air. Her heart pounded, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Why? That she did not know.

The street was deserted. No one was walking. No cars passed by. The windows of the houses—her neighbors’ houses—were dark, lifeless. The very rhythm of the town had stopped, as if it had been erased from existence.

     Evelyn turned the corner, heading toward the park where she used to take long walks in the evening. She was almost there when something caught her eye—movement, faint but undeniable. A figure, standing in the middle of the street, looking directly at her. It was a woman, her face obscured by a dark veil, her clothes tattered, as though they had been worn for far longer than was natural.

     The woman didn’t move, just stood there, as if waiting. Evelyn’s feet slowed, her breath coming faster, and a shiver crawled up her spine. The coldness was back. She couldn’t explain why, but she felt like the figure was familiar—like she had seen this woman before, a long time ago. But she hadn’t. She would have remembered.

     The figure took a slow step forward, and Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat.

     In that moment, everything shifted. The world around her cracked, like a pane of glass breaking into jagged shards. The air was suddenly thick with something cold, something ancient. The town—her town—had never been right. It wasn’t just today. It was every day.

Evelyn turned, running back to the house, but the path seemed longer now, as if the distance between her and the door had stretched impossibly. The trees whispered in the wind, the fog thickening around her as she pushed forward, desperate, frantic. But when she reached the door, she found it closed—locked. And behind her, the woman was there, closer now, her veiled face slowly tilting upward.

     Evelyn screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the fog.

     The woman smiled, and Evelyn understood.

     She had never left. None of them had. They were all trapped here—forever.