Camden, New Jersey

  Two days after the Collapse

  3:12 AM

  ?

  The city didn't care who you were once the sun went down. It barely cared during the day.

  Javiel sat hunched beneath a metal staircase behind a corner laundromat, knees pulled to his chest, hoodie soaked through. His breath came in short bursts, fogging in the cold.

  The gun was gone.

  He'd ditched it under a dumpster three blocks back. It felt heavy just thinking about it — like the trigger had imprinted on his hand. Every time he closed his fist, he could feel the weight, the heat.

  He hadn't slept since that night. Not really. He'd shut his eyes, but sleep didn't come — only flashes.

  The body.

  His mom's last look.

  His dad's hand, still reaching.

  The FLICKER.

  That moment where everything broke, like glass underwater.

  ?

  3:16 AM

  A police car passed, lights off. He flinched anyway.

  He didn't know how long he could stay in this spot. Someone would find him eventually. The smell alone would give him away — he hadn't changed clothes, hadn't showered, hadn't spoken a word out loud since it happened.

  The city made noise even in silence: rats in dumpsters, wind through wires, the quiet hum of bad things happening.

  He stood up.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  ?

  7:03 AM

  Corner Store – South Camden

  He didn't plan to steal anything.

  But he was starving. Stomach twisted up, knees weak. The kind of hunger that made you dizzy.

  The clerk looked up when he walked in — maybe clocked the hoodie, maybe saw the sunken eyes, the way he didn't make eye contact.

  Javiel grabbed a bottle of water and two granola bars from the rack by the counter.

  He moved slow — too slow.

  The clerk stepped out from behind the counter.

  "Hey," the man said. "You payin' for that?"

  Javiel didn't answer. Just turned toward the door.

  "Yo! I said put that—"

  A hand grabbed his arm.

  The world blinked.

  ?

  He wasn't inside anymore.

  He was outside, halfway down the block, knees hitting pavement hard. He rolled, scrambled, slammed into the wall of a nearby building.

  His hoodie soaked again — this time from sweat.

  He didn't look back.

  Didn't hear footsteps.

  Only his own pulse thundering in his ears.

  ?

  7:27 AM

  "Camden Corner Cam Footage" – Uploaded by @BodegaBeefWatch

  In a cramped apartment across town, a teenager sat up in bed with one hand in a bag of chips and the other scrolling through Reddit.

  The title caught his eye:

  "Kid steals from store... but watch what happens at frame 4."

  He clicked.

  Watched.

  Laughed — at first.

  Then he paused. Rewound. Played it again. Slower.

  Frame 3: the kid near the door.

  Frame 4: gone.

  No blur. No sprint. Just gone.

  The shelves behind him flickered. One of the bulbs above the register dimmed for a split-second.

  The boy — whoever he was — had disappeared.

  The teen's smile faded.

  He leaned forward, whispered to himself:

  That's not a glitch. He thought.

  He opened a new folder on his desktop.

  THE FLICKER — INCIDENT 001