enter at your own risk

they came from the concrete and took over our homes

I shouldn't have worn my boots here. They made my steps so heavy, and they echoed in the quiet. I was basically a sitting duck -- so I removed them and just withstood the sharper edges of the concrete. It hurt, it slowed me down, but that didn't matter too much.

I couldn't outrun this creature anyways.

Coming back to this city was a mistake. My family told me so, my friends told me so, and even people I didn't know side-eyed me. They told me it wasn't worth it, that my life mattered more than anything. In fact, they begged me not to. But I couldn't listen to them.

See, a lot of people left behind their belongings when trying to escape; I was one of them. When the evacuation was ordered, I had forgotten a locket my dad had given me. I can't replace that. I thought about it almost every day, and I constantly cried over it. I should've just been happy to escape -- I know that.

But when regret keeps you up at night, life isn't really worth living.

It's why I'm here now, wincing as I step on upraised parts of the sidewalk. It's why I've been ducking into buildings to try and hide from the lumbering monster that roams the streets. It's why I'm braving the thick mist that coats the abandoned city. All of this for the final treasure my dad gave me.

Though I was starting to wonder how long I had been here. It was hard to see the sky, but it was getting darker. The street signs were getting harder to read. And I had the suspicion that I was going in circles. Buildings looked similar, landmarks faded into the mist, and all the streets ... well ... they all looked the same too.

I thought I remembered enough to not need a map. The rustling paper would've attracted its attention, after all. But that might have been a fatal mistake. I couldn't even find my workplace. Or maybe I had, and I just missed it. Nothing looked familiar anymore. The thing that kept me going was that locket -- that drive and determination to find it.

And ... and I didn't want to be proven wrong, either. I wanted to impress who was left. Maybe then they'd take me seriously.

But by the time I had explored about fifty piles of rubbish, I was starting to lose hope. I heard that thing take its massive steps outside -- it was close. So close. I had thought I was safe, but apparently it moves fast. Or maybe it was just always close, and I had been amazingly lucky.

I stopped rummaging through the piles of junk the moment I heard something move close by. I tried not to move as I glanced over -- and then I paled.

It was outside now, and it wasn't really moving. Maybe it knew I was here? People often said to hide in buildings, so maybe it knew of the trick. All it had to do was wait until I came out. My body trembled at the thought, and it took everything I had to not cry. If it didn't move, i was dead.

And it. Wasn't. Moving.

Maybe I could just make a break for it. I could sneak around and just run. I didn't have shoes on, so it couldn't hear me. Right? The mere idea made my heart hammer in its chest, and my skin felt so clammy and sweaty. Adrenaline coursed through my body, and I shook from it.

It was now or never. I just had to sneak out, step on the street, and run. It couldn't hear me. I had left my shoes behind. All I had to do was run. Run, run, run, run far away, run fast --

"Ow!"

It was a sharp edge of concrete that punctured my foot.

I couldn't let it stop me, though. I thought that I could see the exit of the city, and if I could just make it a bit further, I could-