THE RIFT

It began in a forgotten attic on a quiet evening. A man sat at a desk, writing in a journal and packing boxes for a move that would never happen. Then came the flash of emerald light. The Rift has opened, and the domestic silence was shattered by a force beyond understanding.

"Travel the world and the seven seas," the lyrics promised, but he travelled much further. Sucked through a portal in his own home, he was deposited onto cracked earth in a desolate wasteland. Disoriented and lost, he wakes up to a sky that doesn't look right and a horizon dominated by a ruined, impossible structure.

He is alone, but he isn't unseen. His past is gone, erased in the transition. He crawls through the dust, screaming into the void, while his image plays out on a static-filled television screen. This isn't just a displacement; it's a surveillance.