Alex went to the subway station that had the least amount of police presence, a small rear platform entrance without a teller. The moment he hopped the turnstile, he felt a shiver travel up his spine. It wasn’t just the memory of the Entity that lurked in these underground tunnels—it was the weight of the decisions that came with surviving such a malevolent force.
Rick, his former companion, had gone his separate way after the subway ordeal. Yes, what they had experienced was beyond words, the sort of event that either solidifies a friendship for life or shatters it completely, leaving each to grapple with the aftermath alone. Unfortunately for Alex and Rick, it was the latter.
Alex’s only consolation was the memories that saved his life that night, but there were only so many times he could replay the happier moments in his former life before the truth dawned that nostalgia was a liar. It gilded memories, transforming the harshest realities of yesteryears into golden snapshots. Alex knew this well, especially when it came to New York City. His city. Or at least, it used to be.
Born here. Raised here. Shuffled from one borough to the next, from Queens to Harlem, the Bronx to Staten Island, and the epicenter of it all, Manhattan. Alex’s roots were as entangled in this city as the labyrinthine subway system beneath its streets.
Once upon a time, you could stand in the heart of each neighborhood and feel its unique pulse. Greenwich Village hummed with artistic endeavors, Times Square buzzed with perpetual chaos, Central Park held tranquil heartbeats, and Harlem? Harlem thrived on the rhythm of resilience. But those days were gone, washed away in the sea of gentrification, commercialism, and a desperate need for societal homogeneity.
Yet it wasn’t about laying blame on city administration or the tech moguls buying up properties like Monopoly cards. No, it was about the eradication of soul, of ambience, of community. What remained was a dilution of culture, a bland slop lacking the spices that once made this city the world’s melting pot.
And for people like Alex, forced to make their beds on the cold concrete of this soulless city, it wasn’t just the landscape that changed. It was the very fabric of their existence. As he navigated through another sleepless night, bouncing from one makeshift bed to another, avoiding both police and nutters, he couldn’t help but wonder—How long until I lose myself in this barren metropolis?
Tonight, as he looked for a spot to rest among the weekend revelers returning from their Manhattan adventures, Alex felt an unsettling vibe. The city, already stripped of its personality, felt darker, more ominous.
Alex sat on the subway station floor with his good luck styrofoam cup—that, like him, had seen better days—and it seemed like it was going to be an ordinary night—until he spotted the man. Alex had seen countless faces like his, but something was different about this guy. The air around him was thick, almost viscous, as if he were wrapped in an invisible shroud.
As the man maneuvered through the labyrinth of the subway station, dodging tourists and ignoring the occasional busker, Alex couldn’t shake the gravitational pull that drew him toward me. It could have been loneliness, sometimes people just needed another living soul to talk to, to unload their burdens on, or it could have been a Bible thumper looking to save a poor lost soul, or maybe just plain curiosity. But deep down, Alex sensed it was something more ominous.
The man approached cautiously, casting a glance at Alex’s styrofoam cup. It was mostly empty, save for a couple of coins. The man’s eyes met Alex’s for a moment, then darted away. Alex recognized that look—fear masked as politeness.
“Hey,” the man began awkwardly, “Mind if I sit?”
Alex looked up, surprised, but then gestured to the cold floor beside him. The man sat down and it was apparent from his expression that he was suddenly aware of the icy surface of the subway platform.
“Rough night?” he asked.
“You could say that,” Alex replied. “This city doesn’t sleep, but it sure does dream.”
Suddenly the air around them grew denser, as if filling with an unseen fog. The typical noises of the station—the distant conversations, the announcements over the PA system, the screech of incoming trains—seemed to grow muffled, swallowed by the encroaching darkness.
Alex looked up, his eyes widening. “Do you feel that?”
“Yes,” the man whispered, suddenly paralyzed. The space around them had become a vacuum, a void sucking in everything, even light itself. But it wasn’t just physical space; it was time, memories, emotions—all converging on them like a black hole.
From this dark vortex, the Entity emerged.
Its form was nebulous, an ever-shifting dark mass, its center a swirling vortex of unimaginable despair. It loomed over both men and as it did, tendrils of darkness reached out, latching onto Alex.
Alex gasped as the Entity pulled him out of the subway tunnel, and he found himself floating above a disintegrating New York City. Buildings crumbled into dust; streets were swallowed up by dark voids, and skies were red as if bleeding.
“Behold, the cost of your selfishness,” the Entity whispered in a voice like shattered glass.
Suddenly, Alex was catapulted into a terrifying vision of the future. He found himself in his sister Emily’s apartment. The atmosphere was heavy, thick with a malevolent presence. Then, tendrils of the Entity materialized, wrapping around Emily, sinking into her flesh as her eyes filled with unimaginable terror.
The scene shifted. Now, it was his ex-wife, Sarah, and their daughter, Lucy. The same cruel fate befell them—souls shredded, minds torn apart by the Entity.
“Do you see, Alex? This is what awaits them because you chose to defy me. Their souls are ripe for the harvest. Each a thread in the tapestry of your life, each a thread I will pull until it unravels.”
Suddenly, the man who had been with Alex in the subway reappeared beside him, looking noticeably ethereal but deeply concerned. “Don’t listen to it, Alex. It’s manipulating you. Your love for your family is strong, stronger than this abomination. You can fight it!”
Tears formed in Alex’s eyes as the weight of the Entity’s words sunk in. The vision vanished, and he was back above the crumbling city, the Entity’s tendrils still wrapped around him.
“You have a choice,” the Entity murmured. “Sacrifice yourself to me, and they live. Their threads remain intact. Or save yourself, and watch their lives unravel, their souls consumed.”
The man gestured to the healing city below them. “Your love has already started to mend the fabric of this world. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself. Fight it, Alex!”
The decision felt impossible, unbearable. Alex trembled as he thought about Emily’s laughter, Sarah’s love, Lucy’s innocent smile. Could he doom them for his own survival?
His mind drifted to a memory—a summer afternoon in Central Park with Sarah and a baby Lucy, the sun shining and the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers. Life, at that moment, had felt incredibly beautiful.
It was a brief, passing moment but one that had felt like an eternity—a snapshot of what life could be, what it should be.
The choice was clear.
Alex looked the Entity in what he could only assume were its eyes and said, “If sacrificing myself means saving them, then so be it. But know this—I will fight you, even in the abyss, until the end of time.”
Something unexpected happened as he braced himself for the Entity to consume him. The tendrils began to loosen, and the crumbling world around him started to mend itself.
The man smiled. “You did it, Alex. You broke its hold. Your love, your will to fight, saved you—and them.”
Alex suddenly felt a pull, as if being yanked back to reality, but before he left this nightmarish dimension, he turned to the man. “Who are you?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” the man winked, “but for now, let’s just say I’m someone who believes in you.”
MADD FICTIONAL 