The Day Everything Changed

The Following Morning

Lucy woke to the sound of distant shouting. Through the thin walls of their apartment, she could hear voices carrying from the street—angry, insistent voices. She rose from her makeshift bed, carefully stepping over her crayons and the worn plush turtle on the floor. Sunlight peeked past the curtains, revealing the little living room she shared with her father, Elias. It was early, but the city was already stirring in its own tense way.

She found Elias by the window, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the crowds below. She noticed the crease in his forehead—his “worried look.” He always tried to hide it from her, but Lucy wasn’t a baby anymore; she understood when he was anxious.

“Dad?” she said softly.

He turned, startled, forcing a smile. “Morning, Lucy.”

Beyond the window, the skyline stood as an imposing wall of concrete and steel. Giant billboards on rooftops displayed slogans like “Invest in Tomorrow” and “Chronos Research: Securing Our Future.” Lucy knew enough to guess these messages had something to do with the mysterious government projects people whispered about. But she also sensed her father’s reluctance to talk about them.

The year was 2030, but it felt more like some strange sequel to a war that never ended. Rumors of time-distorting experiments run by hidden labs had reached the public ear, but official news channels labeled them as “fabrications” or “misunderstandings.” Meanwhile, job shortages and economic troubles plagued daily life, fueled by a huge portion of government budgets funneling into advanced weapons. The media rarely admitted it, but talk of “temporal arms races” was commonplace in hushed circles.

Down on the street, clusters of protestors held signs denouncing “Chronos” or demanding answers about missing people. Policemen guarded the intersections, stone-faced, while uniformed officials tried to corral the crowds. Lucy saw tall posters plastered on the walls: a stern-faced general—someone named Ivanov, she thought—gazing forward under bold text that read: “Stability Through Strength.”

She pulled away from the window. Her father’s worry made her uneasy; she wanted to say something to reassure him, to lighten the mood. But what could a ten-year-old say about a world so complicated?

Lucy picked up her turtle plush and held it close. It reminded her of safer times—though she never really knew those times. She had faint memories of her mother’s voice, but they felt more like dreams. She had learned not to press Elias about it; the sadness in his eyes always deepened.

She washed her face in the cramped bathroom, the faucet sputtering with unreliable water pressure. Then she rummaged for cereal, figuring her father might forget to eat if he stayed glued to that window. She was old enough to handle a simple breakfast, after all.

A few minutes later, they sat at the small table. Elias’s shoulders still looked tense, but he tried for a lighter tone.

“Busy day ahead,” he said, ruffling Lucy’s hair. “We might go out, pick up fresh vegetables—if the stands haven’t closed early.”

“Sure.” She managed a smile. “Dad, are you still…worried about those, um, anomalies?” She hesitated, not wanting to upset him.

Elias exhaled softly. “I’m just cautious. There’s talk of weird incidents near the old park. It’s probably nothing.”

Lucy sensed the lie but didn’t press. She’d overheard enough talk from neighbors to suspect these “incidents” were more than nothing. Some claimed they’d seen glowing distortions swirling in the alleys at night—bubbles that swallowed people whole. Others insisted it was all propaganda or illusions. Lucy didn’t know what to believe. She just knew Dad got that pained look whenever someone mentioned these anomalies.

They finished breakfast quickly—milk and stale cereal for Lucy, coffee for Elias. He insisted on walking her to a local learning center where she occasionally attended basic lessons. Though the schooling system had grown erratic in the city’s financial crisis, Lucy cherished those classes; they were a taste of normalcy.

Stepping outside, Lucy squinted against the daylight. The heat pressed down, intensifying the lingering smells of diesel fumes and garbage bins. On one wall, a giant mural depicted smiling scientists in white coats, with a caption: “Chronos — Innovating Time for Our Nation.” Lucy shuddered. She remembered rumors that “Chronos” had caused tragedies. But the official propaganda painted it as society’s grand hope.

Elias squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll take the main road. Fewer crowds.”

She nodded, hugging her turtle plush closer. She knew the plush made her look childish, but it was her comfort. Besides, being ten, she felt she had a right to cling to something innocent.

They passed a convenience store with barred windows, then a row of boarded-up buildings covered in graffiti. “Stop the Lies,” said one scrawl. Another declared, “Where Are Our Missing?” Lucy’s gaze lingered on that question. She’d overheard neighbors mention entire families who vanished. Even Dad talked about “disappearances.” The city felt heavy with unanswered prayers.

Sensing her unease, Lucy mustered her best cheerful voice. “Dad, maybe after class, we can do something fun. Like… feed the ducks at Greenwood Park? We haven’t done that in ages.”

He gave her a strained smile. “We’ll see, Lucy. I promise we’ll try to make time.”

She latched onto that small hope. Despite the gloom, she wanted to believe the day could hold a simple joy—like tossing bread crumbs to ducks in the park pond. She remembered doing that with him once, years ago, before everything went downhill.

When they reached the block where her makeshift school was held, the building’s doors were chained. A sign reading “Closed Until Further Notice” hung from rusted locks. Several parents stood around, dismayed. Lucy recognized a neighbor, Mrs. Morales, clutching a handkerchief.

Elias frowned. “No class again?”

Mrs. Morales shook her head. “They said it’s due to ‘safety concerns’… Something about more anomalies detected near the old highway.”

Lucy felt Elias’s grip tighten on her hand. “Let’s get home, Lucy,” he whispered.

But Lucy hesitated. “Dad, can we at least walk through Greenwood Park? It’s— it’s not that far.”

He looked torn. She understood why: rumors said Greenwood Park was partly barricaded after an ‘incident.’ Yet Lucy craved a moment to see trees, sunlight, and a sense of normal life. She batted her eyes, hoping to persuade him.

Finally, Elias relented, giving a quick nod.

They took a shortcut down a lane lined with dead lamp posts. Soon, they arrived at an iron gate that opened onto Greenwood Park—once a cheerful spot with a playground, a modest pond, and benches. Now, Lucy noticed a few official signs posted: “Restricted Area. Authorized Personnel Only.” But no guard actually stood at the gate.

The park looked eerily deserted. Grass grew uneven, the pond still glittered under the sun, yet no children played on the swings. Lucy walked with careful steps, as if expecting the ground to shift. She could see her father scanning the area, jaw clenched.

She tried to lighten the mood. “Look, Dad—a duck!” Indeed, a lone mallard paddled near the pond edge. Lucy rummaged in her pocket for crumbs. She scattered them, heart lifting at the sight of the duck snatching them up.

For a moment, she almost felt normal. Then her father’s phone buzzed with a loud, jarring beep—an emergency alert. He glanced at it, a flicker of alarm crossing his face. Lucy braced herself, anticipating bad news.

Elias read the message. “Some sort of official advisory. They say new anomalies might appear near the highways… They want everyone to evacuate certain blocks. I think… we should go.”

Lucy’s heart sank. She quietly gathered the last crumb from her pocket. “Dad… maybe just a minute more?” She tried to appear brave. In truth, a swirl of anxiety brewed in her chest. She looked around—something felt off, the air too still.

He nodded, scanning the perimeter for any sign of trouble. “One minute, Lucy. Then we head home.”

Before that minute elapsed, two men in dark uniforms rounded a bend on the far side of the park, shouting orders. Lucy tensed, gripping her turtle plush. She caught fragments of what they yelled: “Clear the area—unstable reading—call for backup!”

Elias stiffened. “Lucy, we need to go now,” he said in a low voice.

But Lucy, unsettled yet curious, cast her gaze further down the path. Past a cluster of overgrown shrubs, she glimpsed a glimmer—like heat haze, a distortion shimmering in the daylight. Her breath caught. Was that one of those “time bubbles” the rumors spoke of?

Her heart pounded. She recalled the stories of swirling lights her mother had once mentioned, though Lucy had been too young to remember details. Could it be the same phenomenon? She stepped forward, mesmerized by the wavering air. It felt both frightening and strangely alluring, as if the bubble was… calling her?

“Lucy, come on!” Elias’s tone sharpened. He grabbed her arm, but in that instant, one of the uniformed men bellowed at them.

“Civilian, leave immediately! This zone is compromised!”

Lucy glanced up at her dad’s anxious face, saw the panic. Yet, part of her wanted to see the anomaly for herself. Was it truly the thing that took her mother’s life, or just a rumor?

Out of nowhere, more personnel arrived, stringing up a temporary barrier. Lucy caught a glimpse of official logos with the letters “C.R.” – possibly “Chronos Research?” Her pulse quickened. So these were the hidden authorities behind the rumors?

People in gray tactical gear began ushering them away. Elias tried to pull Lucy along, but the crowd jostled. A police officer barked that the entire park was now restricted, forcibly clearing bystanders. In the chaos, Lucy felt her father’s hand slip from hers. She stumbled sideways, losing sight of him among the tall figures and bright vests.

“Dad?” Lucy called. No answer. Bodies pressed around her, urging her toward an exit gate. But in a gap between two officials, she saw that glimmering distortion again, closer now—like a bubble warping the scenery. She gulped. Her father had always told her to be careful. Yet something in Lucy’s mind insisted she had to see it clearly, to understand the truth that had stolen her mother.

She zigzagged past a parted section of the barrier. The men in uniform were busy pushing other onlookers back. Lucy’s small size let her slip unnoticed around an abandoned bench. Her heart hammered, a swirl of fear and defiance. She didn’t want to disobey Dad, but she needed to know.

Up close, the air shimmered like sunlight hitting a soap film. Faint lights flickered within, dancing shapes impossible to define. A low hum resonated, both unsettling and hypnotic. Lucy’s cheeks burned with adrenaline. Something about the bubble felt… alive.

She took a hesitant step forward, hugging her plush turtle tight. The ground beneath her shoes felt oddly lighter, as though gravity had shifted. She heard frantic shouts behind her—someone yelling, “Girl! Don’t go near that!”

Meanwhile, Elias realized Lucy was missing. He spun around, shouting her name, pushing past the cluster of officials. His voice rose in terror. “Lucy! Where are you?”

He glimpsed the flicker of her red sweater behind a bench, dangerously close to that swirling haze. Alarm shot through him like a lightning bolt. “No, Lucy—stay back!”

Lucy turned at the sound of his shout, her eyes wide. Before she could move, a sudden loud crack—like thunder—reverberated from the anomaly. A pulse of heat swelled, and the swirling lights flared to a brilliant glare. Lucy squeaked in alarm, instinctively raising an arm to shield her face.

Then came a popping rush of wind, as if air were yanked inward. The shriek of some soldier behind her dissolved into the roar of static. Everything turned blinding white.

Elias sprinted forward, but the surge of energy knocked people off their feet. He forced himself upright, eyes stinging from the flash. “Lucy!” he screamed. Smoke or mist hung in the air, thick and acrid. No sign of his daughter.

One soldier, dazed, shouted into a radio, “Temporal surge—girl’s inside it—someone do something!” But nobody had any answers.

As the light receded, a hush fell. In the bubble’s place, a swirling distortion hovered. Lucy was nowhere to be seen—swallowed by the anomaly. Elias staggered to the spot where she last stood, but all he found was the plush turtle, scorched at the edges.

He clutched it to his chest, horror flooding every nerve. Onlookers gaped, some snapped photos or stared in disbelief. A pair of uniformed men approached with frantic urgency, but Elias barely registered them.

Lucy—his precious Lucy—had vanished into the bubble.

Tears burned his eyes as he realized the unspeakable truth: the same phenomenon that had claimed Marie was now threatening his daughter. And this time, he refused to watch helplessly. Even if he had to confront the entire corrupted system behind these anomalies, he would find her.