Capítulo 166: Chapter 166
The blackouts started quietly, like nothing out of the ordinary. A flicker, a dip in the lights, followed by a slow and deliberate darkness that spread across cities. People brushed it off as a glitch in the grid, a freak accident. The power returned within minutes. No one thought anything of it, not even when it happened again. And again. But it spread. Countries. Cities. Then it was every home. Every house on every street. Every person that had once been home was gone.
It started in the smallest of places, an apartment in the middle of nowhere, where the blackouts were sporadic and short-lived. But each time it came, the next hour was worse. It got longer. And one day, the power stayed out for hours. It was a place with no phone signal, no neighbors to call. And when the power came back, the apartment was empty. Completely. Not a single sign that anyone had ever been inside.
Soon, the news started to report the same thing. Over and over, from homes everywhere—lights went out, and when they returned, people were gone. Entire families. People, young and old, disappeared. Not a sound, not a trace. There wasn't a hint of struggle, no sign of where they had gone. The lights flickered back, and they were no longer there. No one could understand why. No one knew why.
Henry had heard the stories. The whispers that spread quickly, spreading like a disease through online forums and news outlets. He wasn't sure what it meant. He didn't want to think about it. He lived in a small town, on the edge of a city where rumors didn't reach too often. But it came. It came in waves, each time, closer to home.
The first time, it was a neighborhood a few miles away. Then it was his own street. But Henry's house didn't go dark. Not that time. The neighbors down the road, they were gone. Just like that.
After the second blackout, he stopped ignoring it. His pulse was too fast, too heavy, and his mind couldn't stop racing. His fingers tapped nervously on the kitchen counter, staring out the window, waiting for the next event. It was always quiet. Too quiet. That was what unsettled him the most.
Then came the third blackout.
The sky was dark that night, as it always was. He watched the sky for hours before his eyes finally fell shut. But that night—when the lights flickered, when the house grew cold and silent—something was different. The power came back on quickly enough, but Henry stayed in bed. His blankets felt thinner, the air heavier. The hum of the refrigerator that had once been familiar was gone. The silence… it felt wrong. Too quiet.
He left the bed and checked the kitchen. The door to the street stood wide open, and the street was empty. No one was walking past, no car lights. Not even a dog barking. It was almost like the world had fallen away. That was when the panic hit him.
He checked every room. The front door, the back door—locked. All of it. Everything as it should be, except for the heavy silence pressing in on him.
No one had been around, not for days, and even though his own house hadn't gone dark, he was beginning to wonder if this would be the end of it all. Was he the only one left? He couldn't shake the feeling that it was coming for him, too. It always did, after all. If it took one house, it would take another.
And it wasn't just him. He knew this. He could feel it in his gut, the weight of the unknown clawing at him from the corners of his mind. Every blackout seemed to bring more questions than answers. Every power outage swallowed more than just light.
As the days dragged on, the reports came in from all over. The power was flickering out in entire cities, homes across the world vanishing into thin air, only for their lights to return, empty. No sign of life left behind. No one knew where they had gone. No answers. Just disappearances. More and more homes turned to dust, no trace. No warning.
Weeks later, it hit the hardest. Henry could feel his own neighborhood pull away from him, as if there were something else coming for him. It was close now. He could hear it in his mind—the low hum, just at the edge of his hearing, that seemed to pulse, like a warning that never fully came. There was nothing for him to do. He couldn't call anyone. His phone had died that morning, and even though it had been charging in the wall, the battery wouldn't take.
His hands shook as he slid down the wall of his living room, staring at the small window. The blackness spread again, filling the air, pressing against the panes of glass. The sky was empty, and the air felt so thin, so unnatural, so wrong.
It started again.
The power cut out, not for a moment this time, but for what felt like an eternity. The silence settled over the house like a blanket. Henry stood up, his legs stiff, heart racing. He made his way into the kitchen, staring out the window. The street was still and empty, and the hum of electricity, once so familiar, was gone.
But this time, something felt different. Henry wasn't sure why, but he had the strangest feeling that he was being watched. He turned quickly. His pulse hammered, but there was no one in sight. His skin prickled.
He ran through the house, checking every room again. Empty. But it was quieter now, too quiet. He opened the door to the outside and stared into the night. The streetlights were dead. The world outside was dead.
His breath caught as he turned back into the house. The front door creaked shut on its own, and the flicker of light in the hallway made his blood run cold. Then, before he could process it, the lights snapped back on. For a brief second, the world seemed normal again.
But he wasn't ready for what came next.
When the lights came back, Henry saw them.
The people—he didn't know who they were, but they were there. Just standing, staring back at him from the hallway. Cold eyes. Blank expressions. They looked like his neighbors, like people he knew, but they were... wrong. They moved like they weren't alive.
Henry froze.
His heart was in his throat. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. These weren't his neighbors. They weren't human. Not anymore. They were like ghosts—like bodies that had been left behind in a world that had decided to forget them. And they were all in his house now.
He couldn't move. His body was paralyzed by the sight, by the terror crawling up his spine. His eyes couldn't leave theirs. Those empty eyes.
And then, they came for him. They moved toward him in slow, agonizing steps, their faces twisted, their skin pulling away from the bone. There was no escape.
When the lights finally went out again, Henry was no more.
No trace. No sign. Just the dark silence that stretched for miles.
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