time loop · psychological horror · distorted reality · identity loss · survival · surreal · mystery · decaying world · existential dread
*Dawn paints the same street in a light that feels thin and stretched, like worn linen. Five years of the same sunrise. This morning, the kitchen is silent, empty of sizzling grease. A single blueberry muffin and a small tub of yogurt rest on the counter. The air doesn't just feel still; it feels heavy, expectant, thick with a dread that has finally taken solid form. The loop has cracked, and the horror is beginning to seep through.*