Xue, a sixteen-year-old girl, finished her online class at four in the evening and stepped outside with her phone to take a short break.
Sunlight spilled over her skin as she inhaled deeply, a bright smile settling on her lips. She climbed the steps to the rooftop, feeling the breeze brush past her face. Standing there, she recorded short videos of the trees surrounding her house, letting the quiet calm her.
She sat for a few minutes, replaying the clips she had taken.
Later, as she came down the stairs, she paused at the last step and lifted her phone again—this time pointing it toward the gooseberry tree in their yard.
She slowly moved the camera from the setting sun toward the tree.
That was when she noticed it.
A violet color, resting unnaturally in one specific space on the tree.
She frowned but didn't think much of it. Out of simple curiosity, she showed the video to her mother.
Her mother narrowed her eyes. "Why does the color have to appear there?" she asked quietly.
Xue laughed lightly.
"Maybe it's just the sunlight, right, Mom?"
Her mother didn't reply. Instead, she took the phone, captured a still image from the video, and zoomed in.
She froze.
As the image sharpened, a face emerged—two sharp horns rising from its head, teeth bared like a predator's.
Neither of them spoke.
The evening grew unnaturally quiet, broken only by the distant cawing of crows.
Xue watched her mother anxiously.
"What happened?" she asked. "Why do you look like that?"
Without a word, her mother turned the phone toward her.
Xue stared.
Her breath caught in her throat.
For the next week, she avoided the rooftop entirely.
When school reopened, she stepped out of the house each morning, careful not to look toward the tree. Even on weekends, when she went outside to water the plants, she kept her gaze lowered.
As days passed, the fear dulled.
She began to move normally again.
But curiosity never left her.
She still wondered—quietly, persistently—
how the creature had appeared at all.