Twilight Rain Convenience Store

On the Blood Moon of the Ghost Festival, reality fractures. Birds freeze mid-flight, foxes prowl through suspended snowflakes—I thought I'd discovered proof the world was just broken code. Until soldiers marched a stone coffin through the streets, escorted by the same crimson foxes. That's when I realized: the supernatural was always real. They simply stopped hiding. Then the lead fox turned, its eyes meeting mine with chilling, unmistakable intelligence...