I stood alone in a desolate wasteland, surrounded by scorched earth and the ruins of a once-thriving world. The sky above burned a chaotic, fiery swirl casting an eerie glow over the shattered remains of buildings and bone-dry landscapes. Ash and dust choked the air, remnants of a cataclysm that had devoured everything.
Kneeling, overwhelmed, I struggled to make sense of it.
Then, the shadows shifted.
They slithered toward a single point ahead of me. From the darkness, a figure emerged immense, cloaked in shadow, its eyes cutting through the gloom like a predator stalking prey.
It moved closer. Towering easily 7.5 to 8 feet its form fluid, almost liquid. Its hair writhed like strands of smoke, untamed and black as void.
My heart thundered. My body froze. I couldn't speak. I couldn't run. All I could do was stare into those piercing eyes until the vision shattered.
I woke up.
James lowered his pen as a knock echoed through his office. The sterile hum of fluorescent lights reminded him where he was. Rubbing his temples, he leaned back, trying to shake off the dream.
A woman stepped in.
"Oh, hey. Taylor. Wassup?"
She placed a stack of documents on his desk without looking at him. "Sung sent the contracts. We need them reviewed before tomorrow."
He glanced at them. "I'll handle it... tonight."
Her tone sharpened. "Tonight won't cut it. We need them this morning."
He sighed. "Relax. You've seen me handle worse."
Now she looked at him steady, but with a hint of concern. "That's not the point."
He raised an eyebrow. "Then what is the point?"
She leaned in slightly, voice low but direct. "You've been... off. We can't afford to drop the ball here."
He chuckled to deflect, leaning back in his chair. "Distracted? Nah. Just pacing myself."
She crossed her arms. "This isn't about pace, James. It's about focus. It's my job to call it out when I see it." Then, softening, "If there's anything I can do... "
"Coffee," he interrupted, smirking. "That'd help."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm serious."
"I know." He softened, meeting her gaze. "I'll get on the documents. Promise."
She lingered in the doorway. "And James?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't make me clean up your mess tomorrow."
He grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it."
By 5 p.m., James had mentally clocked out. Home was quiet a welcome change. As he cooked dinner, the only sound was the occasional sizzle from the pan.
Mid-bite, his phone rang.
"Mmph Hello?"
"James! Don't tell me you forgot about me already."
He swallowed quickly. "Steve? Steve Rogers?"
Laughter. "Close. Guess I've got superhero status now, huh?"
James grinned. "Man, you won't believe what I'm watching. Total coincidence."
"That why you forgot your old pal?"
He chuckled. "Nah, haven't forgotten you. What's up?"
Steve teased, "Running the company now, huh? Big boss James, with a skyscraper view and a hot secretary?"
James choked a bit, laughing. "It's not like that. Taylor's... professional."
"Uh-huh. So, no more flings? No more office drama?"
He grew serious. "Got more important things on my plate."
Steve backed off. "Alright, alright. Just messing with you. Figured we should catch up how about drinks this weekend?"
"Sounds good," James said, thankful for the shift. "Could use the break."
As they laughed and caught up, the lights flickered. Then the ground trembled.
James stood, startled. "Was that—an earthquake? I'll call you back."
He hung up.
Holding a spoon, he closed his eyes—and the world dissolved again.
He was back in the wasteland.
The ground cracked and dry, the sky a sickening red. Blood streaked the earth, pooling in crevices, pulsing unnaturally. Rivers of red-black stretched to the horizon, some still twitching as if alive.
The air reeked of decay and metal. The silence was absolute.
He couldn't breathe.
Then reality snapped back.
Gasping, James dropped to his knees, his insides twisting violently. After a moment, he forced himself to his feet and stumbled downstairs to check the power.
The next morning's meeting with Sung was a blur.
Everyone shook hands, exchanged pleasantries. James barely heard any of it. His mind was still trapped in the wasteland.
As the room emptied, a booming voice snapped him back.
"Young Master Silver! Hell of a morning, huh?" Mr. Ferg clapped him on the back.
James mustered a strained smile. "Mr. Ferg. Yeah... bit chaotic."
Ferg grinned, leaning in. "Chaotic? Or did you just wing it like your old man? He was a pro at bluffing, you know."
The comment hit a nerve. James kept his tone even. "I prefer a different style."
"Modest too, huh? You've got potential, kid. Just rough around the edges."
James forced a chuckle. "Working on it."
Ferg threw an arm around his shoulder. "That's the spirit! Don't stress too much. Company's already looking better than it did under your father."
James's jaw tightened, but he kept his smile. "Thanks. I'll take that as a compliment."
"Meant it as one! Keep going you'll surprise us all." With a wink, Ferg walked off.
As soon as he was gone, James exhaled slowly, tension finally breaking from his shoulders.