Chapter 1: Shock in Silence

  Annaba City – 2019

  High above the beaches of Seraidi.

  The air was crisp, carrying the scent of salt and pine. Oweis stood at the edge, staring at the sea stretching out before him like a broken mirror. His heart raced, but what weighed on him more was a hollowing sensation inside, as if the world around him was gently crumbling.

  The instructor beside him checked the straps and repeated the instructions in a calm voice, adding a faint smile as if trying to lighten the gravity of the moment.

  Oweis didn't truly hear the words. His mind was clouded, filled with an internal hum that had nothing to do with the wind or sound—a strange vertigo blurring the lines between fear, hyper-awareness, and disorientation.

  All he saw now was the distance between him and the ground—a void separating life from the fall.

  "Ready?"

  The voice was calm, yet it held a tone Oweis couldn't quite place, as if the man had sensed something inside Oweis that he himself couldn't grasp.

  Oweis nodded unconsciously, his legs trembling.

  The moment they jumped, everything went silent. The air cut out. Time seemed to slow for a heartbeat, and then the world rushed at him all at once.

  He felt like he was floating, but he wasn't. The fall felt disturbingly slow, his body trying to adjust to a new reality that seemed distorted.

  He laughed internally—a soundless reaction. He didn't know if it was fear or a desperate attempt by his mind to regain balance.

  Before he could turn, he caught the instructor staring at him with faint concern—not fear of falling, but something deeper, as if he had noticed Oweis's disturbance before Oweis realized it himself.

  Then, Oweis began to feel it: Warped Perception.

  It wasn't a vision of the future, nor a dream, but a sharp glitch in his perception of the moment. The details of reality were overlapping in an unnatural way. It wasn't a thought or a memory; it was a raw sensation, as if reality itself was fracturing for a split second, reshaping into something unintelligible.

  He saw the instructor lurch in front of him again—clear but alien, as if the moment was looping in his mind, not in the external world.

  His pulse spiked. A wave of anxiety flooded his chest, a feeling he couldn't name.

  Then, a scream echoed on the horizon.

  The instructor actually lost his balance. The parachute veered, plunging toward the slope.

  Oweis didn't understand what was happening—his perception was scrambled—but he felt the impact before he heard the sound.

  His arm shuddered. The air turned into a scream. Everything seemed to vanish into a vortex of light and shadow.

  Before the instructor hit the ground, Oweis caught a glimpse of his face for one brief second—a mix of fear and genuine shock. It wasn't just a reflection of his perception.

  It was a silent moment that held all the brutality of reality.

  He wasn't sure how much time had passed since the crash.

  He opened his eyes to a painful white light and a machine emitting a rhythmic beep beside him.

  His right arm was in a sling, his mouth tasted of iron, and his body hadn't yet comprehended what had happened.

  A nurse was calling his name, but her voice sounded distant, moving in an unfamiliar way, as if the words were arriving in jagged, disjointed pieces.

  "Oweis? Can you hear me? Don't move too much."

  He didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, tracing small details as if everything around him had shattered for a brief moment before snapping back into place.

  A man in a uniform entered, a small notebook in hand, his face wearing a calculated coldness.

  "We need to clarify some points regarding the circumstances of the accident... Can you spare us a few minutes?"

  The word "accident" woke something sharp in his chest, a feeling like a stab wound.

  He hesitated for a moment before asking in a faint voice:

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  "The instructor... is he okay?"

  The policeman didn't answer immediately. He jotted something down in his notebook, then looked up.

  "He didn't make it."

  The room felt like it suddenly shrank around him. The light seemed to press against his eyes, and all sounds faded into an unstable background noise.

  Oweis felt something strange happening inside him—a slight overlap in his perception—but he didn't understand it yet. Perhaps it was just the remnants of shock, or perhaps something else... something he couldn't name.

  The policeman added calmly:

  "Some witnesses said you raised your voice before the fall."

  He paused, as if testing Oweis's reaction, then added:

  "Do you remember why?"

  Oweis’s expression hardened. He found nothing to say. Everything felt incoherent, as if fragments of reality were interfering with his personal feelings, yet he hadn't lost control completely.

  The nurse approached again, intervening gently:

  "That's enough for now. He needs rest."

  The policeman left silently. The sound of his footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving the room quiet, yet charged with something Oweis couldn't understand.

  He turned his face toward the window. It was slightly open, the wind drifting in with the faint scent of salt.

  In the glass, he caught a pale reflection of his face... and for a brief second, he thought he saw a slightly different version of himself—something unfamiliar—before the reflection vanished, and everything returned to normal.

  The next day, he heard hesitant footsteps approaching the door. He didn't turn immediately, but when the door opened slowly, he recognized the presence before a word was spoken.

  "Oweis..."

  His mother entered, her face pale, anxiety etched into every feature, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced than ever. Behind her was his father, carrying a small bag of fruit and juice, trying to project calm despite the fear evident in his eyes.

  His mother sat beside him, reaching out to touch his forehead.

  "Thank God you're safe, my son. They told us the accident was very serious."

  He didn't answer. He looked at her with hollow eyes, as if the distance between them was impenetrable.

  His father sat quietly on the chair opposite him and said in a low voice:

  "Yes, as your mother said, thank God you survived... The other man... the instructor... he didn't make it."

  "I know that..." Oweis murmured.

  He lowered his head and remained silent. The silence of his parents was heavy, but it wasn't just quiet—it was tainted with something he couldn't explain, a strange sensation he was picking up without knowing its source.

  His mother finally whispered:

  "Don't blame yourself, my love. It was fate."

  He raised his eyes slowly.

  "I wish I hadn't been there."

  The words were cold, honest, but heavy with the weight of trauma.

  His parents exchanged a quick glance, hidden worry passing between them. His father tried to lighten the mood:

  "As soon as the doctors discharge you, we'll get away from the city noise... We'll go to your grandfather's house. A change of scenery isn't an option; it's a necessity for you to get past this."

  Oweis nodded without enthusiasm. His mind was far away from their words, clouded as it had been since the accident.

  In his mind, memories of the fall began to overlap—the details of the instructor, his screams, the movement of the parachute—but each time, the feeling was slightly different. It was as if reality itself was twisting before him, and he didn't know why.

  He stared at the door long after his parents left. The quiet they left behind was suffocating, charged with that inexplicable strangeness.

  Then, he began to feel a slight tremor in his limbs—the same sensation that had preceded the accident, but this time it was less distinct, like a glimpse of something larger he didn't yet understand.

  Months passed after the accident.

  Oweis left the hospital with a body that was mostly healed, but his internal self hadn't recovered in the same way.

  He remained silent for long days, barely speaking to his parents. Everything around him seemed slower, fuzzy, as if the world itself was trying to rearrange itself after the shock.

  The looks people gave him were enough to remind him of what happened—the accident from which only he survived.

  At first, he tried to convince himself it was just a coincidence, a gear malfunction, or bad luck.

  But every night, as he tried to sleep, his mind returned to that moment: the instructor's gaze, the scream, the fall he felt in a bizarre way, as if all the details were overlapping and twisting before him. Sometimes he heard sounds that weren't actually there, or saw shadows moving with lightning speed in his room—something he couldn't explain, something that made him question the stability of his own perception.

  Even during the day, he sometimes caught small moments: a distant sound seeming slightly slower or faster, a reflection in the mirror hinting at a subtle shift in himself or his surroundings. It was as if reality itself glitched for a brief second before returning to normal.

  Oweis didn't understand what was happening to him, but he felt that something inside him had changed irrevocably. Something that made him see the world differently, and made the people around him appear as if their own perception was unstable, even if they didn't notice it themselves.

  All these scenes, all these moments, left a deep mark on his soul: a feeling of detachment from reality, a silent fear, and an internal awareness that his life would never be the same again. Everything around him was now charged with mystery, even the simplest details of an ordinary day.

  To be continued...