Capítulo 221: Chapter 221
The streetlights flickered in the oppressive night, casting long shadows over the cracked sidewalks. It was Halloween, but the air held none of the usual excitement. There was no laughter, no music drifting from party houses, no children in costumes running up to porches for candy. The world had been strangely quiet for weeks, the once-lively sounds of life muted by the creeping dread that had taken hold. People didn't talk about it, but they all knew: the Ghost of Halloween Future was out there, and it wasn't going away.
Darren stood on the edge of the sidewalk, staring down the empty street, his eyes fixed on the house across from him. He had lived here his whole life, but tonight everything seemed wrong. The air felt thick, like the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something terrible to happen. He adjusted his jacket, pulling the collar up around his neck, trying to shield himself from the chill, but the cold wasn't just in the air. It was in his bones. He didn't know why he was still walking. His feet felt heavy, each step more reluctant than the last.
For the last few months, there had been rumors—faint at first, whispers passing through conversations, but then they grew louder. The stories of people just... freezing. In the middle of the street, in their homes, even in stores. People would freeze up, eyes wide, faces twisted in silent terror, like they were caught in a moment, unable to move. Everyone had an explanation. Some said it was some kind of government experiment gone wrong. Others talked about a virus, some new disease that spread faster than anyone could keep track of. But the most chilling theory of all was that it wasn't a disease or a virus. It was the Ghost of Halloween Future.
The ghost's arrival was never announced. It didn't come with a warning or a sound. It didn't need one. It knew exactly who it wanted. It would only freeze those whose future was dark—those who would bring about harm, suffering, cruelty. The cruel ones, the ones who would destroy others for their own gain, the selfish, the malicious. They were the ones the ghost chose. And it wasn't a single person at a time. As more and more people were frozen, it became clear that half the world's population was already locked in place, unable to move, unable to scream. Frozen in the ghost's grasp. Some said they were dead, others believed they were trapped in a twisted kind of purgatory, stuck in time until the end of the world.
Darren wasn't a bad person. He wasn't perfect, but he had never hurt anyone, not really. He thought about it sometimes—the things he had done, the times he had been selfish, or thoughtless, or petty. But he wasn't evil. He wasn't the kind of person who would be frozen by the ghost. Was he?
He turned to leave but hesitated, a nagging feeling settling at the base of his spine. It had been weeks since he'd last seen anyone alive. The empty streets were proof of that—no lights in the windows, no passing cars, nothing but a silent, lifeless world. The rumors kept spreading, but Darren didn't believe them. It was hard to believe something so monstrous could be real.
But now, standing alone in the dark, he could feel it. The chill wasn't just from the night air. It was something more—an unnatural cold, seeping into his skin, crawling down his spine. He looked around, his heart pounding in his chest. The world seemed to close in on him, the streets stretching endlessly, no end in sight. The houses around him stood like hollow shells, darkened windows staring blankly at him, as if watching him. He wasn't alone.
The streetlights flickered again, a brief, disorienting flash of light, and then they went out completely. Darkness swallowed the street, and for a moment, Darren stood still, frozen in place. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, the air heavy with tension.
A sound, soft at first, came from behind him. He whipped around, his heart racing. It was just a rustling of leaves, brushing against the pavement. The wind had picked up, howling through the empty streets like a warning.
Then he saw it.
At the far end of the street, emerging from the shadows, was a figure. It didn't walk—it drifted, like a wisp of smoke, only solid enough to leave a trail of cold in its wake. The figure was tall, impossibly tall, its features hidden beneath a tattered cloak that seemed to absorb the light around it. Its face was obscured, but Darren could feel its gaze, like an icy hand gripping his chest.
He wanted to run. His legs were already in motion, but the fear that had taken root in his gut held him in place, his feet stuck to the ground as if the earth itself had decided he wasn't going anywhere. The figure glided closer, the sound of its movement like the rustling of dead leaves.
Darren felt the blood drain from his face. His body trembled as he struggled to force himself to move, but it was useless. The ghost—if that's what it was—was near. He could feel it now, the terrible weight of its presence pressing down on him.
"Darren..." the voice didn't come from the figure. It was soft, but it was everywhere, surrounding him. It was in his head, in his ears, in the air itself. "You know what's coming."
His heart stopped, and for a moment, everything was still. The wind, the shadows, the ghost—it all seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye. The only thing left was the sound of his own breathing, ragged and panicked, his thoughts racing as he tried to make sense of what was happening.
"You've done bad things, Darren. You don't even realize it, do you?"
The voice was low, almost sympathetic, as if it was speaking to a child who had never been taught better. But Darren knew better than to think the ghost would show any mercy.
"I'm not a bad person," he said, his voice a broken whisper. He didn't know why he said it. Maybe it was the fear that made him try to convince himself. Or maybe it was the terror of knowing that it didn't matter what he said.
The figure stepped closer, its cold presence suffocating. "Everyone has their flaws. But you... You will hurt so many. You already have."
He wanted to scream, to run, to beg, but no words came. His throat felt tight, and all he could do was stare at the creature, paralyzed by a fear he couldn't escape.
The ghost stopped a few feet in front of him, its face still hidden in the shadows of its hood. The air grew colder still, and Darren could feel his skin tightening with each passing second.
"You will destroy lives, Darren. You already have. It's already set. You cannot escape your future."
"No... no..." he muttered, his voice cracking with despair. "I haven't done anything. I'm not... I'm not..."
The figure tilted its head, the cloak swirling around it like ink in water. It was impossible to look away, its presence overwhelming, suffocating. And then, the voice returned, colder than before.
"You will. The moment you make that choice, it will happen. And then, you'll understand."
Before Darren could react, the figure raised its hand, and a sudden force slammed into him, freezing his body in place. He felt his muscles lock, his limbs stiffening, the world around him growing distant and blurred. His chest rose and fell with shallow, panicked breaths, but he couldn't move.
The ghost's gaze was still on him, and its voice seemed to fill every corner of his mind. "You could have changed. You could have stopped, but you didn't."
Darren's mind raced, his thoughts becoming more frantic, but it was too late. He realized the truth—he had made choices, small ones, subtle ones, that had led him down a dark path. The people he had hurt without realizing it, the words he had said in anger, the selfishness, the small cruelties. He couldn't take them back.
The darkness around him deepened, and he knew, deep down, that there was no escape. He was frozen, locked in place, just like the others. Half the world was already gone, and now, he was one of them.
The ghost's voice lingered in his mind, hollow and final. "Your future was already set. Your fate... sealed."
And just like that, Darren's world went silent.
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