The world should have ended with the plane crash.Elias Ward had braced himself for the inevitable impact, his heart hammering in his chest as the plane dipped and jolted through turbulent skies. He had heard the screams of passengers, the rapid whoosh of air, and the sharp clang of overhead compartments flying open. Then, as if the universe itself had decided to hold its breath, the noise stopped.
Everything went dark.
When Elias finally opened his eyes, the first thing that hit him wasn't the aftermath of a crash — there was no wreckage, no twisted metal, no fire. It was the silence. A silence so thick, it felt like the world had simply paused.
He sat up slowly, blinking against the strange light that bathed everything around him. A pale blue sky stretched endlessly above, not a cloud in sight. The air was still, cool but not cold. His hands touched the ground, damp grass prickling against his palms. The oddest thing? There was no sign of the plane.
His breath caught in his throat. His pulse quickened.
"Where…" Elias whispered, looking around in disbelief. No one. Nothing.
He stood shakily, feeling a sense of vertigo settle in his stomach. The wide, empty road before him led nowhere. It stretched across an expanse of tall grass, but there were no vehicles. No movement. Not even the faintest sound of distant chatter or birds.
He rubbed his temples, trying to gather his thoughts. A loud crackle broke the stillness, sending a chill down his spine. He wasn't alone.
People emerged one by one from the surrounding field, all of them disoriented and confused, just like him. A woman in a floral dress, dirt streaked across her face, staggered forward, clutching her head as though trying to shake off the fog of unconsciousness. A man wearing a wrinkled business suit followed, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, his briefcase still gripped tightly in his hand. A teenager appeared, barely old enough to drive, clutching a backpack and looking around with wide, fearful eyes.
None of them spoke at first. There were no questions. Only the heavy sound of their collective breaths. And then, as if on cue, everyone's gaze shifted to the same thing — the thin, metallic bands glowing softly on their left wrists.
"What the hell is this?" The woman's voice cracked as she stared at the strange devices.
Elias glanced at his wrist. A digital timer flashed across the surface of the band, the numbers ticking down with steady, relentless precision.
3 Years, 0 Days, 6 Hours, 23 Minutes, 11 Seconds.
He blinked, unable to tear his eyes away from the glowing digits. Was this some kind of sick joke? But the timer didn't stop — it kept counting down.
6 Hours, 23 Minutes, 10 Seconds.
"Elias?" a voice called out. He turned to see the teenager looking at him with wide eyes. The boy's own timer was glowing, a pale blue, almost like the soft light of the sky above. His timer read 45 Years, 3 Days, 12 Hours.
Elias swallowed hard, his throat dry.
"What's going on?" The question hung in the air, unspoken for a moment, as everyone turned to look at one another.
"I… I don't know," Elias murmured, his fingers tracing the band around his wrist as if hoping it would explain itself. "This wasn't here before."
But before anyone could say anything more, a man's voice broke through the silence.
"I'm— I'm not crazy," he said, stepping forward. His face was gaunt, his eyes wide with panic. His wrist timer flickered — 3 minutes.
For a moment, no one moved. Then, one by one, they turned their gazes toward him. His hand trembled as he lifted his wrist.
2:55.
Elias felt a tightness in his chest. The man's breath quickened, his gaze darting around as if searching for someone, anyone, to help. But there was no one. No emergency services. No sign of life. Just them. Just these strange timers counting down.
"I—I don't feel right…" The man's voice wavered, his face turning pale.
The timer continued to tick. 2:30.
Elias's heartbeat quickened, and the group stepped back. The man was swaying on his feet, his breath labored. "Someone— help me," he gasped, clutching his chest as though he couldn't breathe.
The teenager with the backpack stepped forward, eyes wide. "There's no one here! What's happening to him?"
But the man didn't answer. His body jerked, and he collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud. His limbs went stiff. His back arched unnaturally.
1:50.
Elias watched in horror, unable to move. The man convulsed violently, his mouth foaming as his eyes rolled back. The timer on his wrist blinked erratically, but the seconds kept counting down.
"Help him!" someone screamed, but it was too late. The man's body went slack. The timer flashed once more before flickering out.
00:00.
The group stood in stunned silence. No one spoke. No one moved.
Then, almost as if it were an afterthought, a woman slowly kneeled next to the man. She stared at his wrist for a long time. The timer was dead. The silence of the world around them was deafening.
After a long pause, Elias exhaled sharply. "This isn't normal."
A chill ran down his spine as he took in the faces of the others around him. Everyone had their own timers, their own countdowns. But Elias was the one with the shortest. Three years.
"How long do you have?" The woman's voice broke the silence.
Elias raised his wrist. His timer read 3 Years.
"I don't know," he said. "But I can't be the only one who thinks this is wrong."
The others murmured in agreement. The sudden realization of the man's death, the way his time had just run out— it hit them all like a slap in the face.
"What happens now?" someone asked, her voice shaking.
A girl near the back, eyes wide with fear, raised her wrist. 3 Days.
Kaia's voice was trembling. "I… I have three days," she whispered, her eyes wide with panic. "Three days... what does that mean? Am I going to die in three days?"
Panic swept through the group like wildfire. Eyes darted back and forth, desperate for answers. But no one had any.
Elias stared at the girl, his heart sinking. He had three years. But she? She had only three days.
Suddenly, the silence wasn't comforting. It was suffocating.
A low, distant sound broke the tension — a faint beep. Elias's breath caught in his throat as he looked down at his wrist. The timer flashed, and he realized the faint beeping was coming from his own band.
Something was happening.
And whatever it was, they didn't have much time.
The world should have ended with the plane crash.Elias Ward had braced himself for the inevitable impact, his heart hammering in his chest as the plane dipped and jolted through turbulent skies. He had heard the screams of passengers, the rapid whoosh of air, and the sharp clang of overhead compartments flying open. Then, as if the universe itself had decided to hold its breath, the noise stopped.
Everything went dark.
When Elias finally opened his eyes, the first thing that hit him wasn't the aftermath of a crash — there was no wreckage, no twisted metal, no fire. It was the silence. A silence so thick, it felt like the world had simply paused.
He sat up slowly, blinking against the strange light that bathed everything around him. A pale blue sky stretched endlessly above, not a cloud in sight. The air was still, cool but not cold. His hands touched the ground, damp grass prickling against his palms. The oddest thing? There was no sign of the plane.
His breath caught in his throat. His pulse quickened.
"Where…" Elias whispered, looking around in disbelief. No one. Nothing.
He stood shakily, feeling a sense of vertigo settle in his stomach. The wide, empty road before him led nowhere. It stretched across an expanse of tall grass, but there were no vehicles. No movement. Not even the faintest sound of distant chatter or birds.
He rubbed his temples, trying to gather his thoughts. A loud crackle broke the stillness, sending a chill down his spine. He wasn't alone.
People emerged one by one from the surrounding field, all of them disoriented and confused, just like him. A woman in a floral dress, dirt streaked across her face, staggered forward, clutching her head as though trying to shake off the fog of unconsciousness. A man wearing a wrinkled business suit followed, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, his briefcase still gripped tightly in his hand. A teenager appeared, barely old enough to drive, clutching a backpack and looking around with wide, fearful eyes.
None of them spoke at first. There were no questions. Only the heavy sound of their collective breaths. And then, as if on cue, everyone's gaze shifted to the same thing — the thin, metallic bands glowing softly on their left wrists.
"What the hell is this?" The woman's voice cracked as she stared at the strange devices.
Elias glanced at his wrist. A digital timer flashed across the surface of the band, the numbers ticking down with steady, relentless precision.
3 Years, 0 Days, 6 Hours, 23 Minutes, 11 Seconds.
He blinked, unable to tear his eyes away from the glowing digits. Was this some kind of sick joke? But the timer didn't stop — it kept counting down.
6 Hours, 23 Minutes, 10 Seconds.
"Elias?" a voice called out. He turned to see the teenager looking at him with wide eyes. The boy's own timer was glowing, a pale blue, almost like the soft light of the sky above. His timer read 45 Years, 3 Days, 12 Hours.
Elias swallowed hard, his throat dry.
"What's going on?" The question hung in the air, unspoken for a moment, as everyone turned to look at one another.
"I… I don't know," Elias murmured, his fingers tracing the band around his wrist as if hoping it would explain itself. "This wasn't here before."
But before anyone could say anything more, a man's voice broke through the silence.
"I'm— I'm not crazy," he said, stepping forward. His face was gaunt, his eyes wide with panic. His wrist timer flickered — 3 minutes.
For a moment, no one moved. Then, one by one, they turned their gazes toward him. His hand trembled as he lifted his wrist.
2:55.
Elias felt a tightness in his chest. The man's breath quickened, his gaze darting around as if searching for someone, anyone, to help. But there was no one. No emergency services. No sign of life. Just them. Just these strange timers counting down.
"I—I don't feel right…" The man's voice wavered, his face turning pale.
The timer continued to tick. 2:30.
Elias's heartbeat quickened, and the group stepped back. The man was swaying on his feet, his breath labored. "Someone— help me," he gasped, clutching his chest as though he couldn't breathe.
The teenager with the backpack stepped forward, eyes wide. "There's no one here! What's happening to him?"
But the man didn't answer. His body jerked, and he collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud. His limbs went stiff. His back arched unnaturally.
1:50.
Elias watched in horror, unable to move. The man convulsed violently, his mouth foaming as his eyes rolled back. The timer on his wrist blinked erratically, but the seconds kept counting down.
"Help him!" someone screamed, but it was too late. The man's body went slack. The timer flashed once more before flickering out.
00:00.
The group stood in stunned silence. No one spoke. No one moved.
Then, almost as if it were an afterthought, a woman slowly kneeled next to the man. She stared at his wrist for a long time. The timer was dead. The silence of the world around them was deafening.
After a long pause, Elias exhaled sharply. "This isn't normal."
A chill ran down his spine as he took in the faces of the others around him. Everyone had their own timers, their own countdowns. But Elias was the one with the shortest. Three years.
"How long do you have?" The woman's voice broke the silence.
Elias raised his wrist. His timer read 3 Years.
"I don't know," he said. "But I can't be the only one who thinks this is wrong."
The others murmured in agreement. The sudden realization of the man's death, the way his time had just run out— it hit them all like a slap in the face.
"What happens now?" someone asked, her voice shaking.
A girl near the back, eyes wide with fear, raised her wrist. 3 Days.
Kaia's voice was trembling. "I… I have three days," she whispered, her eyes wide with panic. "Three days... what does that mean? Am I going to die in three days?"
Panic swept through the group like wildfire. Eyes darted back and forth, desperate for answers. But no one had any.
Elias stared at the girl, his heart sinking. He had three years. But she? She had only three days.
Suddenly, the silence wasn't comforting. It was suffocating.
A low, distant sound broke the tension — a faint beep. Elias's breath caught in his throat as he looked down at his wrist. The timer flashed, and he realized the faint beeping was coming from his own band.
Something was happening.
And whatever it was, they didn't have much time.
he world should have ended with the plane crash.Elias Ward had braced himself for the inevitable impact, his heart hammering in his chest as the plane dipped and jolted through turbulent skies. He had heard the screams of passengers, the rapid whoosh of air, and the sharp clang of overhead compartments flying open. Then, as if the universe itself had decided to hold its breath, the noise stopped.
Everything went dark.
When Elias finally opened his eyes, the first thing that hit him wasn't the aftermath of a crash — there was no wreckage, no twisted metal, no fire. It was the silence. A silence so thick, it felt like the world had simply paused.
He sat up slowly, blinking against the strange light that bathed everything around him. A pale blue sky stretched endlessly above, not a cloud in sight. The air was still, cool but not cold. His hands touched the ground, damp grass prickling against his palms. The oddest thing? There was no sign of the plane.
His breath caught in his throat. His pulse quickened.
"Where…" Elias whispered, looking around in disbelief. No one. Nothing.
He stood shakily, feeling a sense of vertigo settle in his stomach. The wide, empty road before him led nowhere. It stretched across an expanse of tall grass, but there were no vehicles. No movement. Not even the faintest sound of distant chatter or birds.
He rubbed his temples, trying to gather his thoughts. A loud crackle broke the stillness, sending a chill down his spine. He wasn't alone.
People emerged one by one from the surrounding field, all of them disoriented and confused, just like him. A woman in a floral dress, dirt streaked across her face, staggered forward, clutching her head as though trying to shake off the fog of unconsciousness. A man wearing a wrinkled business suit followed, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, his briefcase still gripped tightly in his hand. A teenager appeared, barely old enough to drive, clutching a backpack and looking around with wide, fearful eyes.
None of them spoke at first. There were no questions. Only the heavy sound of their collective breaths. And then, as if on cue, everyone's gaze shifted to the same thing — the thin, metallic bands glowing softly on their left wrists.
"What the hell is this?" The woman's voice cracked as she stared at the strange devices.
Elias glanced at his wrist. A digital timer flashed across the surface of the band, the numbers ticking down with steady, relentless precision.
3 Years, 0 Days, 6 Hours, 23 Minutes, 11 Seconds.
He blinked, unable to tear his eyes away from the glowing digits. Was this some kind of sick joke? But the timer didn't stop — it kept counting down.
6 Hours, 23 Minutes, 10 Seconds.
"Elias?" a voice called out. He turned to see the teenager looking at him with wide eyes. The boy's own timer was glowing, a pale blue, almost like the soft light of the sky above. His timer read 45 Years, 3 Days, 12 Hours.
Elias swallowed hard, his throat dry.
"What's going on?" The question hung in the air, unspoken for a moment, as everyone turned to look at one another.
"I… I don't know," Elias murmured, his fingers tracing the band around his wrist as if hoping it would explain itself. "This wasn't here before."
But before anyone could say anything more, a man's voice broke through the silence.
"I'm— I'm not crazy," he said, stepping forward. His face was gaunt, his eyes wide with panic. His wrist timer flickered — 3 minutes.
For a moment, no one moved. Then, one by one, they turned their gazes toward him. His hand trembled as he lifted his wrist.
2:55.
Elias felt a tightness in his chest. The man's breath quickened, his gaze darting around as if searching for someone, anyone, to help. But there was no one. No emergency services. No sign of life. Just them. Just these strange timers counting down.
"I—I don't feel right…" The man's voice wavered, his face turning pale.
The timer continued to tick. 2:30.
Elias's heartbeat quickened, and the group stepped back. The man was swaying on his feet, his breath labored. "Someone— help me," he gasped, clutching his chest as though he couldn't breathe.
The teenager with the backpack stepped forward, eyes wide. "There's no one here! What's happening to him?"
But the man didn't answer. His body jerked, and he collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud. His limbs went stiff. His back arched unnaturally.
1:50.
Elias watched in horror, unable to move. The man convulsed violently, his mouth foaming as his eyes rolled back. The timer on his wrist blinked erratically, but the seconds kept counting down.
"Help him!" someone screamed, but it was too late. The man's body went slack. The timer flashed once more before flickering out.
00:00.
The group stood in stunned silence. No one spoke. No one moved.
Then, almost as if it were an afterthought, a woman slowly kneeled next to the man. She stared at his wrist for a long time. The timer was dead. The silence of the world around them was deafening.
After a long pause, Elias exhaled sharply. "This isn't normal."
A chill ran down his spine as he took in the faces of the others around him. Everyone had their own timers, their own countdowns. But Elias was the one with the shortest. Three years.
"How long do you have?" The woman's voice broke the silence.
Elias raised his wrist. His timer read 3 Years.
"I don't know," he said. "But I can't be the only one who thinks this is wrong."
The others murmured in agreement. The sudden realization of the man's death, the way his time had just run out— it hit them all like a slap in the face.
"What happens now?" someone asked, her voice shaking.
A girl near the back, eyes wide with fear, raised her wrist. 3 Days.
Kaia's voice was trembling. "I… I have three days," she whispered, her eyes wide with panic. "Three days... what does that mean? Am I going to die in three days?"
Panic swept through the group like wildfire. Eyes darted back and forth, desperate for answers. But no one had any.
Elias stared at the girl, his heart sinking. He had three years. But she? She had only three days.
Suddenly, the silence wasn't comforting. It was suffocating.
A low, distant sound broke the tension — a faint beep. Elias's breath caught in his throat as he looked down at his wrist. The timer flashed, and he realized the faint beeping was coming from his own band.
Something was happening.
And whatever it was, they didn't have much time.