The Heaven's Stairway

The Heaven's Stairway
October 31st started like any other Halloween night—streets filled with children in costumes, houses adorned with carved pumpkins, and the air thick with the excitement of trick-or-treating. But as the night crept in, something sinister, something beyond comprehension, began to unfold.
Around midnight, the sky turned an unnatural shade of black, darker than any stormcloud. A thick, oily substance started to fall from the heavens. It wasn’t rain—no, this was something else. It coated everything it touched in a glossy, iridescent sheen, yet it wasn’t water. The air grew heavy with the stench of burnt tar.
Panic rippled across cities. People scrambled indoors, seeking shelter, but it didn’t help. The oil seeped through cracks and windows, soaking into the ground and clinging to buildings like a plague. Television signals cut off. Phones became useless. There was no news, no explanation.
And then it began.
For reasons unknown, people started to scream—terrified, hopeless wails filled the streets. Without warning, they began throwing themselves from rooftops, hanging themselves from trees, bridges, and lampposts. The oil-covered ground was littered with bodies, thousands upon thousands. It didn’t matter where in the world you were—Tokyo, New York, London, or a quiet town in the middle of nowhere. The same thing happened everywhere.
Mothers slaughtered their children, husbands turned knives on their wives, friends murdered each other without a word. There was no hatred in their actions, only an overwhelming, incomprehensible urge to destroy themselves. It was as if the very idea of life had become unbearable in the presence of the falling oil.
No one knew why this was happening. There was no voice in the sky, no prophetic announcement. Just the rain. The endless, thick, black rain.
By the dawn of November 1st, the world was silent. What had been a thriving planet just hours earlier had become a graveyard. In cities that had once teemed with billions of lives, only a thousand souls remained across the entire globe. These survivors, huddled in corners, were left to ask the same question—why?
The event came to be known as The Rapture. Not because it was foretold by any religion, but because it felt like humanity had been torn from existence by some unseen hand. There were no signs beforehand, no warnings. It was as though some cosmic force had flipped a switch, deciding that the majority of humanity no longer had a place on Earth.
The thousand survivors, scattered and alone, shared a single, haunting experience: each had seen something during the rain. Amid the chaos, they had all glimpsed what appeared to be an enormous staircase stretching up into the sky, bathed in golden light. The Heaven's Stairway, as they called it. For a moment, it had seemed so inviting, so peaceful. And then, it vanished, just as quickly as it appeared.
No one knows what the staircase meant. Some believed it was an offering—an escape from the madness that befell the world. Others thought it was the very thing that had driven people to their deaths, a beacon of false hope. But the truth, like so much else about that night, remained hidden, locked away in the void from which the oily rain had fallen.
As the survivors tried to rebuild in the aftermath, one fact became undeniable: something had reached out from beyond, wiping nearly all of them away in one swift, unfathomable stroke. Whatever had caused The Rapture, the heavens were watching.
And perhaps, one day, they would return.
Category:Story
Category:Halloween
Category:Special Event