C O N T E N T S:

      Prologue/Chapter One: Cursed or Not? ………………………………  Pg. 4

     Chapter Two: ‘Darcy…’ …………………………………………………………  Pg. 11

     Chapter Three: Over and Over …………………………………………….   Pg. 15

     Chapter Four: ‘You are mine now’ ………………………………………   Pg. 19

     Chapter Five: The Basement ………………………………………………..   Pg. 21

     Chapter Six: The Light Below ………………………………………………   Pg. 25

     Chapter Seven: Downstairs isn’t Downstairs ……………………….  Pg. 29

     Chapter Eight: The Page that wasn’t written………………………   Pg. 34

     Chapter Nine: The One who Remembers ……………………………   Pg. 40

     Chapter Ten: The Last Page …………………………………………………   Pg. 47

Prologue

The day I got trapped in a story, forced to write a new ending, was... well, chaotic. Anyways, I’m Darcy, and this is my story. When you read it, you might think it’s too strange or even a little scary to be true. But every word is real—at least, that’s what I remember. So please sit tight and enjoy reading, if you dare.

Chapter One:

Cursed or not?

As I walk to the movie theater, clutching Loki in my hands, a shiver runs down my spine. 

Loki starts to whimper, her fur wet and cold from the harsh weather—rain slashing sideways, dark clouds swirling above, and the wind howling like a warning. 

Suddenly, a flash of lightning rips through the sky, followed by a thunderclap so loud it feels like the ground shakes beneath my feet.

Shadows dance across the empty street, making everything look twisted and strange.

Loki gets even more scared, her body trembling as she limps, eyes wide with fear, as if

she senses something in the darkness that I can’t see.

It was my friend Maya’s birthday, and we decided to watch a movie at her dad’s theater.

I glance to my left, and in the light I see a poster that says “Anthana: The Death of Queen Nebula.” 

The queen’s eyes seem to follow me, glowing in the shadows. Maya has been obsessed with the series, and this is her third time watching the same movie, but tonight, everything just feels a little… off…

In case you are wondering, Anthana is a river goddess; nobody in town would say her name after dark, but for some reason, I feel like she is watching me day and night.

People believe that when she gets angry, thunderstorms like this one start. 

But hear me out, whenever these storms happen, I get a perfect score on my spelling tests, which almost never happens. 

Is this a coincidence or what? Is she actually cursed or not? These questions echo in my head, over and over again.

I keep walking.

***

I reach the movie theater; the wind makes the door creak open.

I step inside; the heavy door shuts behind me, muffling the roar of the storm.

The lobby was dimly lit, the flicker of the overhead lights casting long, shifting

shadows on the peeling red wallpaper.

The air smelled faintly of popcorn, but underneath it lingered a sour, musty scent—like wet earth and something left too long in the dark.

Loki’s ears flattened, and she let out a low, uneasy whine. 

Across the cracked tile floor, the ticket booth sat empty behind grimy glass, and a strange, rhythmic tapping echoed from somewhere deep within the building, as if someone—or something—was waiting in the shadows.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

“Hello?” I call into the darkness. “Anyone there?”

The lights begin to flicker. 

The flickering lights finally went dark.

For a moment, the theater was completely silent. Then—

The projector roared to life upstairs.

Loki hissed sharply.

A beam of pale light cut through the darkness, stretching across the lobby toward Theater Room 13.

“Maya, happy birthday?” I whispered. No answer.

But somewhere inside the theater, I heard laughter.

Not happy laughter.

The kind that sounds wrong. The lights flickered again.

Then, all at once, they shut off.

“Ah!” I gasped, clutching Loki tightly.

For a few seconds, everything was completely dark. I could hear only the pounding rain outside and Loki’s nervous whining.

Then a bright light flashed from down the hallway.

The projector had turned on by itself.

A beam of light stretched across the theater lobby and pointed toward Theater Room 13.

“Maya?” I called again.

This time, I heard an answer.

“Darcy… hurry!”

It was Maya’s voice.

I ran toward the theater room, my shoes squeaking against the cracked floor. Loki stayed close beside me.

When I pushed open the door, Maya was sitting alone in the very back row.

“You’re late,” she whispered.

“I'm three minutes early,” I said.

“No,” she said slowly. “The movie started ten minutes ago.”    

I looked at the giant movie screen. The movie had already begun.

On the screen, dark waves crashed against a riverbank while thunder roared in the background. A tall woman with silver eyes stood in the storm.

Anthana.

Suddenly, the woman on the screen turned her head.

And looked directly at me.

I slowly sank into the seat beside Maya, still clutching Loki tightly against my chest. The theater felt freezing cold, even colder than the storm outside.

On the screen, dark water crashed against jagged rocks while thunder echoed through the speakers. Anthana stood alone on the riverbank, her silver crown glowing beneath flashes of lightning.

“She looks different tonight,” Maya whispered.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Maya frowned without taking her eyes off the screen. “I don’t remember her staring at the camera this much.”

Loki let out a purr.

The movie continued. Anthana walked through a dark forest while strange whispers floated through the trees. Suddenly, the screen flickered.

For a split second, the forest disappeared.

Instead, I saw our town.

I sat up straight.

The screen now showed the exact street outside the theater, rain pouring onto the sidewalks. The camera slowly moved forward, as if someone were walking through the storm.

“That wasn’t there before,” Maya whispered nervously.

The camera kept moving.

Past the bakery.

Past the library.

Past Maya’s house.

Toward the theater.

My stomach tightened.

“No way…” I muttered.

The theater doors appeared on the screen.

Then the camera entered the lobby.

Everything matched perfectly—the peeling wallpaper, the cracked tile floor, even the empty ticket booth.

Loki began trembling violently in my arms.

“Maya,” I whispered, “turn it off.”

“I can’t,” she said.

The camera moved deeper into the hallway until it stopped outside Theater Room 13.

Then slowly…

The theater door on the screen opened.

Inside the movie theater on the screen, two girls sat in the back row.

Maya and me.

I stopped breathing.

Onscreen, my face slowly turned toward the camera.

But I wasn’t smiling.

The version of me inside the movie looked terrified.

Then she whispered:

“Don’t let her out.” A sharp crack of thunder shook the theater.

Chapter Two:

 ‘Darcy…’

The screen flickered violently.

Then the version of me inside the movie suddenly looked upward, as if she could see something above her.

Above us.

Very slowly, everyone in the theater lifted their heads toward the ceiling.

At first, I saw nothing.

Then—

Drip.

A drop of water landed on my arm.

Another drop splashed onto the floor beside Maya’s shoe.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Water began leaking from the ceiling tiles.

But the water wasn’t clear.

It was dark. Almost black.

Loki hissed and jumped from my lap, backing against the seat behind us with her fur standing straight up.

“Maya,” I whispered shakily, “we need to leave. Right now.”

Maya didn’t answer.

She was staring at the movie screen with wide, frozen eyes.

Slowly, I turned back toward the screen.

Anthana was gone.

The riverbank was empty.

The storm still raged in the background, but the goddess had disappeared completely.

Then the speakers crackled.

A soft whisper echoed through the theater.

“Darcy…”

My blood turned cold.

The voice sounded wet and distant, like someone speaking underwater.

“Darcy…”

The lights above us flickered on for half a second.

And in that brief flash, I saw people sitting in the rows around us.

Dozens of them.

Silent. Motionless.

Their clothes were soaked with water.

Their heads hung low, hiding their faces in darkness.

Then the lights went out again.

I grabbed Maya’s arm. “Did you see that?!”

But Maya still didn’t move.

“Maya!”

Slowly, she pointed toward the screen.

I turned.

Anthana was standing there again.

But this time, she was closer.

Much closer.

The screen showed only her face now—pale skin, silver eyes, dark water dripping from her crown.

And she was smiling at me.

Not a friendly smile.

A hungry one.

Then her hand pressed against the inside of the screen.

The movie theater speakers screamed with static.

CRACK.

A long fracture spread across the movie screen.

The audience around us began whispering all at once.

“Run,” Maya breathed.

Another crack split across the screen.

Then a wet hand pushed through from the other side.

Chapter Three:

Over and over

“Run,” Maya said again.

The word snapped something inside me.

I grabbed Loki and pulled Maya’s arm. “We need to go. Now.”

We stumbled backward through the aisle as the screen behind us fractured again. Another wet hand pushed through the crack, fingers curling like they were testing the air.

The audience—those silent, soaked figures—began to rise.

Not all at once.

One by one.

Slowly.

We didn’t wait to see what they were.

We ran.

We burst through the theater doors into the hallway, the sound of cracking glass and static chasing us like a living thing. The moment we hit the lobby, the lights overhead flickered violently.

Then—

Silence.

The storm outside was still raging when we pushed out into it. Rain hit my face like needles, and the wind nearly knocked me off balance.

For a second, I thought we were safe.

Just for a moment.

“Maya,” I gasped, “we—”

I stopped.

The street in front of the theater looked the same as before.

Too much the same.

The same flickering streetlight. The same broken bench. The same poster of "Anthana: The Death of Queen Nebula”  fluttered on the wall.

I turned slowly to look behind me.

The theater door was still open.

But the inside was wrong.

Dark water was now pouring out of it, spilling onto the sidewalk like the building was bleeding the ocean.

“We didn’t go anywhere,” Maya whispered.

“That’s not possible,” I said.

Loki growled low in my arms, her body stiff as stone.

We started walking. We didn’t have a choice.

But after about a minute, something felt off.

The street didn’t change.

Not even slightly.

We passed the same cracked fire hydrant again.

The same bent street sign.

The same puddle shaped like Loki's ear.

I stopped walking.

Maya walked a few steps more before realizing I wasn’t beside her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

I pointed forward.

“We already passed that.”

Maya frowned. “Passed what?”

I turned slowly.

Behind us, the theater was still there.

Not farther away.

Not closer.

Exactly the same distance.

Like it had been following us without moving.

A drop of water landed on my shoulder.

Then another.

I looked up.

It wasn’t raining anymore.

Only above us.

Only in a perfect circle of sky.

And in that circle of clouds, something was watching down.

A face formed in the storm.

Silver eyes.

A crown made of blue flame.

Anthana.

Chapter Four:

‘You are mine now.’

The air felt heavier with every breath.

I squeezed Loki tighter, my hand trembling, as the face in the clouds seemed to grow sharper, more real.

Maya’s eyes were wide and shining with fear, her voice barely a whisper, “She’s watching us, Darcy.” 

Above, the blue flames of Anthana’s crown flickered in the storm, sending ripples through the rain. For a moment, I thought I heard the goddess speak—a wordless, thunderous echo inside my mind.

Maya tugged at my sleeve. “We have to move,” she said, glancing nervously toward the theater.

The street behind us twisted and shimmered, as if the world itself were melting in the rain. 

Loki whimpered in my arms, her eyes fixed on the swirling sky.

We ran.

Each step splashed through icy puddles, the sound strangely muffled, as though we were underwater.

The world seemed to bend and stretch, the old houses on either side looming impossibly tall, their windows dark and watching.

We reached the corner—only to find ourselves back where we started, facing the theater’s broken marquee.

“No,” Maya breathed. “This isn’t possible.” She pressed her palm to her forehead, trying to steady herself. “We’re trapped.”

I looked up again, searching the clouds for Anthana’s face, but the storm had shifted.

The features dissolved, replaced by a single, burning blue eye.

It blinked once, and the wind howled through the empty street, carrying a voice that was not a voice at all—just a feeling, sharp and cold: 

“You are mine now."

My knees buckled.

Loki hissed, snapping me out of it. 

My heart pounded as I clung to Maya, desperate for some anchor in this shifting nightmare. 

But even her hand felt different—colder, as if the storm were seeping into both of us, changing us from the inside out.

Maya’s fingers tightened around my wrist.

“She remembers you,” the voice whispered again.

Then she collapsed.

“Maya!” I dropped beside her on the wet pavement as Loki hissed at the theater behind us.

The storm had stopped.

Not slowly.

Instantly.

The rain no longer fell. The wind no longer moved.

Everything was silent.

Too silent.

Then I noticed the theater doors standing open across the street.

Dark water flowed slowly back inside the building like a river moving upstream.

And somewhere deep in the darkness below the theater—

Something knocked.

Three slow taps.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Loki flattened her ears and growled low in her throat.

“Maya,” I whispered shakily, “we are NOT going back in there.”

But Maya slowly lifted her head.

Her eyes widened as she stared toward the theater doors.

“It wants us downstairs,” she said softly.

A cold chill ran through me.

“What do you mean, downstairs?”

Before Maya could answer, another sound echoed from inside the theater.

Tap.

Tap.

The noise seemed deeper now, like it was coming from underground.

Loki suddenly leaped from my arms and sprinted toward the theater.

“Loki!” I shouted.

Without thinking, Maya and I ran after her.

The second we stepped back inside, the theater doors slammed shut behind us.

BANG.

I jumped.

The lobby looked different now.

The peeling wallpaper was soaked black with water. The ceiling lights flickered weakly overhead, buzzing like angry insects.

And the floor—

The cracked tiles were covered in puddles so dark they looked like mirrors.

Loki stood near the end of the hallway beside a door I hadn’t noticed before.

A small metal sign hung above it:

BASEMENT.

“That door wasn’t there earlier,” Maya whispered.

Another loud knock echoed beneath us.

THUD.

Dust drifted from the ceiling.

I swallowed hard. “Maybe someone’s trapped down there.”

But deep down, I already knew that wasn’t true.

Nobody human made sounds like that.

Maya reached for the doorknob.

The second her hand touched it, the lights overhead shut off.

Complete darkness swallowed us. Then came the whisper.

“Darcy…”

The voice floated through the hallway like cold water sliding across my skin.

Loki hissed.

The lights flickered back on.

The basement door now stood open by itself.

A staircase disappeared into darkness below.

And from somewhere deep underground—

Blue light flickered.

Chapter Six:

The Light below

The basement door stood open.

A cold wave of air drifted up the stairs, brushing against my face like a warning.

Blue light flickered from below—soft at first, then pulsing like a heartbeat.

“Darcy…” the voice whispered again.

I stepped back.

“I am not going down there,” I said quickly.

Maya didn’t answer.

That was what scared me most.

I turned toward her.

“Maya?”

Her eyes were fixed on the stairs. Unblinking. Like she wasn’t really seeing me anymore.

Then she spoke, but her voice sounded strange. Flat.

“It’s not scary,” she said. “It’s waiting.”

Loki growled and backed away, but her eyes were also locked on the basement now.

The blue light grew brighter.

It spilled up the stairs, touching the walls, the floor, and my shoes.

And then I saw something inside it.

Shapes.

Not clear… but moving.

Like shadows underwater.

“Nope,” I whispered. “Nope, nope, nope.”

I grabbed Maya’s arm and tried to pull her away from the stairs.

But she didn’t move.

She was heavier than before.

Like the floor itself was holding her in place.

“Let go,” I said, panic rising in my chest.

Maya slowly turned her head toward me.

Her eyes were no longer just scared.

They were… calm.

Too calm.

“She wants you to see,” Maya said.

“Who?” I asked, even though I already knew.

The blue light flashed.

For a split second, the basement was bright. And I saw it.

A giant underground room filled with still water.

A broken movie projector sat in the center, pointing at nothing.

And behind it—

A figure stood in the water.

Tall.

Silent.

Silver eyes.

Anthana.

The light snapped off.

Darkness swallowed everything again.

Loki hissed loudly.

“RUN!” I shouted.

This time, Maya moved—but not away from the stairs.

Toward them.

“Maya, stop!” I grabbed her hand.

But she didn’t stop walking.

“I have to go,” she whispered.

“That’s not you talking!” I said, my voice shaking.

The basement door creaked wider by itself. 

“Darcy…”

I felt something cold wrap around my ankle.

I looked down.

Water.

It was rising from the basement.

But it wasn’t just rising.

It was pulling.

Like the building wanted me to fall inside it.

Loki jumped onto my shoulder, claws digging into my jacket.

I grabbed Maya with both hands.

“MAYA! WAKE UP!”

For a second—just a second—her eyes flickered.

Like she was still there.

Like she was fighting it.

“Darcy…” she said, softer now. “Don’t let it… finish the movie.”

Then her grip slipped from my hand.

And she stepped onto the first stair.

The blue light exploded upward.

And everything went white...

Chapter Seven: 

Downstairs isn’t Downstairs

For a second, I couldn’t hear anything—not the storm, not Loki, not even my own breathing.

Then everything came back at once.

Cold.

Dark.

Wet.

I was standing on the basement stairs.

But they didn’t look like stairs anymore.

They looked longer. Steeper. Like they stretched too far down into nowhere.

“Maya?” I called.

My voice echoed… but wrong.

Like it bounced off water instead of walls.

No answer.

“Loki?”

A small whimper came from my shoulder. She was still there, shaking violently.

That was the only thing that felt real.

I looked down.

The basement floor was not a floor.

It was water.

Still, black water that didn’t ripple when I moved.

It just waited.

And in the center of it—

A glow. Blue.

“Maya!” I shouted again, louder this time.

Something moved in the water.

A shape rose slowly.

My heart dropped.

It was Maya.

But she wasn’t standing.

She was floating just above the surface, like the water was holding her up.

Her eyes were open.

But she wasn’t looking at me.

She was looking past me.

“Too late,” she whispered.

“No!” I stepped down quickly, my shoes sinking slightly into the water-stairs.

The moment I moved closer, the basement changed again.

The walls were gone.

The ceiling was gone.

It was just an endless dark ocean under a broken theater.

And the movie screen—

It was there too.

Floating in the air.

Playing the film by itself.

On the screen, Anthana stood in the water, just like in my dream.

But now I realized—

It wasn’t a movie.

It was here.

The same place.

The same water.

Anthana turned her head slowly.

And looked straight at me.

“You finally came down,” she said.

Her voice didn’t come from the screen.

It came from everywhere. Loki hissed so loudly I almost dropped her.

“I didn’t come for you,” I said, my voice shaking. “I came for Maya.”

Anthana smiled.

“Maya is already part of the story.”

The water around Maya shimmered.

Dark lines spread across her arms like ink.

“No…” I stepped forward, panic pushing me.

Anthana raised one hand.

And the water stopped me.

Not like a wall.

Like it had become solid.

I couldn’t move.

I tried to push forward, but it was like walking through frozen time.

Anthana floated closer, her silver eyes glowing.

“This place is a loop,” she said. “A film that never ends unless someone replaces the ending.”

I swallowed hard.

“What do you want?”

She tilted her head slightly.

“I want the ending.”

The screen behind her flickered.

And suddenly I saw it—

Me.

Standing where she was.

Alone in the water, holding Loki.

Becoming her.

“No,” I whispered.

Anthana’s smile widened.

“Then write a different ending, Darcy.”

The water beneath me began to rise.

Slowly.

Coldly.

Pulling me down toward the story that didn’t want to stop.

And somewhere far above—

I thought I heard the theater doors slam shut again.