The storm clouds gathered with an unnatural swiftness, thick and black as spilled ink, blotting out the late afternoon sun. The air turned heavy, oppressive, carrying the scent of rain and the faint, acrid tang of ozone. Olivia glanced up from her garden, the trowel slipping from her hand into the soft soil. She had never seen a storm roll in so quickly—or so strangely.
It wasn’t just the speed. The clouds churned as if alive, twisting into shapes that defied natural patterns. She could swear the swirling masses formed fleeting images—eyes, mouths, grotesque expressions—before dissipating back into amorphous darkness. Shaking her head, she dismissed it as her imagination. Storms could play tricks on the mind. But as she turned toward the house, the wind picked up, carrying with it a low, guttural moan that stopped her in her tracks.
The sound wasn’t like the usual roar of wind or the distant growl of thunder. It was deeper, resonant, almost...human. Olivia shivered and quickened her pace, her boots crunching over gravel as she made her way inside. She locked the door and shut the windows, the unsettling noise fading to a dull hum outside. She tried to distract herself, turning on the news to see if there was any mention of severe weather in the area.
The reporter’s voice crackled over the screen: “A sudden and unusual storm has taken residents of the county by surprise. Meteorologists are puzzled by the rapid formation and intensity of the system, which seems to be localized directly over our region. Stay indoors and avoid travel unless absolutely necessary.”
Olivia sighed, her unease growing. She pulled a blanket around her shoulders and settled onto the couch, watching the rain begin to lash against the windows. Lightning flashed, illuminating the room in stark, white light. For a moment, she thought she saw something in the reflection of the glass—a shape that didn’t belong. She turned quickly, but there was nothing there.
The thunder followed a moment later, a bone-rattling crack that seemed to shake the very foundation of the house. The lights flickered and died, plunging her into darkness. She fumbled for her phone, switching on the flashlight. The beam cut through the shadows, casting eerie shapes on the walls. The storm outside intensified, the wind howling like a wounded animal.
Then she saw it.
At first, she thought it was another trick of the storm—a formation of clouds illuminated by a burst of lightning. But as she approached the window, her heart pounding, she realized it wasn’t the clouds. It was a face. Massive and grotesque, it loomed in the stormy sky, its features etched in stark relief against the churning blackness.
The face was impossible to describe in full detail, as if her mind couldn’t fully comprehend what she was seeing. Its eyes were hollow, glowing pits that seemed to pierce through her, and its mouth was a gaping void that stretched unnaturally wide. The face didn’t move, but the storm swirled around it, as if it were the eye of some monstrous hurricane.
Olivia stumbled back, her breath hitching in her throat. The rational part of her brain screamed that it wasn’t real, that it couldn’t be real. But the other part—the primal, instinctive part—knew better. The face was there, and it was watching her.
She scrambled for her phone, her fingers shaking as she tried to take a picture. The flash illuminated the room, but when she checked the screen, the image was blank. No face. No storm. Just an empty, black void. Her stomach churned with dread.
The face began to change. Its features twisted, morphing into new shapes with each pulse of lightning. Now it was a screaming visage, mouth stretched impossibly wide in a silent howl. Then it shifted again, forming a grin so malevolent it made her skin crawl. Each transformation was more horrifying than the last, as if it were cycling through every possible manifestation of fear.
And then, it spoke.
The voice wasn’t a sound so much as a vibration, a low, resonant hum that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It wasn’t in English or any language Olivia could recognize, but she understood it all the same. The words were primal, etched into her mind like claw marks on stone:
"We see you. We remember. We come."
Olivia clutched her head, the words reverberating through her skull like a migraine made of sound. She sank to her knees, gasping for air. The storm outside grew wilder, the wind rattling the windows so violently she thought they might shatter.
And then, as suddenly as it had come, the face was gone.
The storm began to dissipate, the clouds thinning and the rain easing to a gentle drizzle. The oppressive weight in the air lifted, leaving Olivia gasping for breath. She stayed on the floor, trembling, unable to process what had just happened.
When she finally found the strength to stand, she checked the windows again. The sky was clearing, the setting sun casting an orange glow over the drenched landscape. But the memory of the face lingered, burned into her mind like an afterimage.
She spent the night in a haze, unable to sleep, her thoughts racing. The words the face had spoken echoed in her head, a sinister mantra she couldn’t shake. When dawn finally broke, she ventured outside, hoping the light of day would bring some clarity.
But the world felt different. The air was still heavy, as if the storm had left behind a residue of something unnatural. The birds were silent, and the usual hum of morning activity was conspicuously absent. Olivia’s neighbors—normally out tending their gardens or walking their dogs—were nowhere to be seen.
She tried to convince herself it was just her imagination, that the storm had been nothing more than a freak weather event. But as she walked through her garden, she noticed something that made her blood run cold.
The plants were wrong. The leaves were twisted, their veins forming patterns that looked disturbingly like eyes. Flowers drooped unnaturally, their petals curling into grimacing faces. The entire garden seemed to writhe, as if alive and aware of her presence.
She backed away, her pulse racing. As she turned to retreat into the house, she froze. Across the street, her neighbor’s windows were covered in black smears, as if painted with tar. Shapes writhed behind the glass, too distorted to make out. She thought she saw a hand—elongated and wrong—press against the pane before retreating into the shadows.
Olivia ran. She locked herself in the house, drawing every curtain and bolting every door. She didn’t know what was happening, but she knew she wasn’t safe. The face in the storm had been a warning—or perhaps a herald of something far worse.
Over the next few days, the town changed. People vanished, their homes left in disarray. Those who remained seemed...off. Their movements were jerky, their expressions vacant. When they spoke, their voices were flat, devoid of emotion. Olivia avoided them, keeping to the shadows, watching as the world around her descended into a quiet, surreal nightmare.
And always, in the distance, she could see the storm. It never truly left, hovering just beyond the horizon, its dark clouds swirling like a vortex. Sometimes, in the dead of night, she’d catch a glimpse of the face again, staring at her from the sky, its hollow eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.
The words echoed in her mind:
"We see you. We remember. We come."
Olivia knew it was only a matter of time before they arrived.