Left Behind

Left Behind

It was the kind of night that clung to the bones—cold and silent. The moon hung low, a pale ghost in the sky, casting long shadows over the abandoned town. Cars sat rusting on broken roads, their windshields cracked, their tires deflated. Windows, once gleaming with light, were now dark and empty, as if the very essence of life had been sucked from the streets.

And in the midst of it all, there was Mara.

Mara stood at the entrance to her childhood home, the door half-open, its hinges rusted and creaking in the breeze. Her hand rested on the old, faded frame, the wood splintered where she had carved her name years ago. She had come back to find something—anything—that would explain why she had been left behind.

It had been months since the event—the moment when the world had changed. People had disappeared without warning. One moment, the streets were filled with bustling crowds, laughter, and life. The next, they were barren. It was as if the very fabric of reality had torn, and those who had vanished were simply... gone. There were no bodies, no explanations. Just absence.

Mara hadn’t been one of them. She had woken up that morning to find her parents, her sister, her friends—everyone—gone. And she was still here. Alone.

The last few months had been a blur. At first, she had searched the town, knocking on doors, calling out names, hoping for a glimpse of a familiar face. But the empty streets had only echoed back her own voice. She had tried to make sense of it all. She had read every theory, every article on the disappearances. Some believed it was a natural disaster. Others, a scientific experiment gone wrong. There were even whispers of supernatural forces at play—alien abductions, apocalyptic raptures, or some kind of divine intervention. But nothing explained why she had been left behind.

She walked into the house, her footsteps muffled by the thick dust that covered the floors. The place was frozen in time, as though everyone had just stepped out for a moment and would return any second. The smell of old wood and stale air filled her lungs, but there was something else too—something sharper, a scent of decay that clung to the walls, making her stomach twist.

Her eyes scanned the living room—the worn couch, the half-empty bookshelf, the family photos lining the walls—everything was exactly as she remembered it. The frame with the picture of her and her sister, taken on a summer day, still hung above the mantle. Mara’s heart ached as she reached up to touch the glass, her fingers brushing against the photo.

"Why did you leave me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, swallowed by the oppressive silence of the house.

As she turned away, something caught her eye—a piece of paper on the floor. She bent down to pick it up, her fingers trembling as she unfolded it. The handwriting was messy, hurried. It read:

*“You’re not like them, Mara. You’re special. They’ll come for you when the time is right.”*

Her breath caught in her throat. She read the words again, then again. The message didn’t make sense, but there was something about it that felt... important. Her name. The word *special*. It was the first clue she’d found in months—something, anything to hold onto. But who had written it? And why was it left for her?

The door to the kitchen creaked, and Mara froze, her heart pounding in her chest. The house was silent again, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone. She grabbed a nearby chair, dragging it across the floor until she could stand behind it, her eyes scanning the shadows.

She waited, but nothing happened.

Her pulse slowed, and she sighed, shaking her head. She was alone. She had to be. The fear of the unknown had been eating away at her for so long that she had started to imagine things.

And then she heard it again—a faint sound, like footsteps from the hallway.

Mara’s breath hitched, and she turned toward the kitchen. Slowly, she crept toward the doorway, her heart hammering in her chest. She paused at the threshold, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice trembling. "Is someone there?"

There was no answer—just the low hum of the wind outside. The hallway was dark, empty.

She stepped inside. Her footfalls were the only sound as she made her way down the corridor, her eyes searching for movement. The kitchen door was slightly ajar, just as it had been the last time she had seen it, months ago.

A shadow shifted in the corner of her vision, and Mara spun around. But once again, there was nothing.

Was she losing her mind? She hadn’t spoken to anyone in so long. Hadn't seen another living soul. Her loneliness had become a presence, an entity that whispered to her, pushed her to the edge of sanity. Was she imagining things? Or was there someone, something, still here?

The kitchen door creaked open, and she stepped inside. The room was cold, the windows covered in grime, the light dim and muted. The kitchen table sat in the middle of the room, its surface cluttered with old dishes and forgotten cups. The stove was off, the oven cold.

And then she saw it.

A small figure stood in the corner of the room, barely visible in the shadows. At first, Mara thought it was a trick of the light, but as her eyes focused, the figure became clearer—a person, a woman, standing motionless.

Mara’s breath caught in her throat. The woman’s face was familiar, though it was older, gaunt, as though time had warped her somehow. Her dark hair hung in tangled strands around her face, and her eyes glowed with an unnatural, otherworldly light.

It was her mother.

"Mom?" Mara whispered, stepping forward, her heart leaping in her chest. "Mom, is it really you?"

The woman didn’t move. She just stood there, silent and still.

Mara took another step, her hands outstretched. "Mom, what happened? Why did you leave me? Please, tell me—"

The woman’s lips parted, but no sound came. The air around them thickened, charged with an invisible force. Mara felt her knees go weak. She reached out one last time, but the moment her fingers brushed the air between them, the figure dissolved into mist, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

Mara stumbled back, gasping, her mind racing. What had she just seen? Was that really her mother? Was it a ghost? Or was there something more to the story than she could understand?

She didn’t have answers—only more questions. And the one thing that gnawed at her was the same thing she had felt from the moment she woke up alone—the overwhelming, bone-deep certainty that she was *not* truly left behind.

Someone—or something—was watching her. Waiting for her. And eventually, they would come for her.

She just didn’t know if she was ready to face whatever that meant.