Lizard Town

Chapter 1

During a livestream connection, my mom came into my room to bring me a glass of milk.

The exorcist on the other end suddenly changed his expression: "Run! That's not your mother… that's a damn lizard person!"

I turned around and saw my mom lurking behind the door crack, her eyes fixed on me in an unnatural way.

…

I'm a well-known paranormal debunker online. Based on tips from my followers, I hunt down scam livestreams and expose the frauds behind them.

This time, my viewers had pointed me toward a so-called exorcist streamer.

"The aura of evil spirits disrupts the magnetic field, and I am the magnetic field itself."

On the other end of the screen, the self-proclaimed Toland struck a pose with an exaggerated mystical air.

Comments flew by rapidly, a mix of mockery and morbid curiosity.

I could barely suppress the smirk forming on my lips. I leaned forward, my fingers drumming lightly on the desk—tap-tap-tap—like I was counting down to the scammer's final curtain call.

"Alright then, Master. Why don't you use your all-powerful magnetic field perception to tell me which university my brother registered at today?"

My brother just got his acceptance letter yesterday and left early this morning. All my regular viewers know this. If this guy can't answer, his fraud status will be confirmed live for everyone to see.

Toland fell silent on the other side of the screen. He closed his eyes, and only the sound of my tapping filled the livestream. Suddenly, my fingers froze mid-tap. Toland's brows were knitted together, his face contorted as if he was in genuine pain.

When he opened his eyes again, something in his gaze had shifted. There was a look of genuine terror mixed with pity.

"He didn't go to any university," his voice cracked, suddenly dry and tense. "He's at home."

I was stunned for a moment, then let out a derisive snort.

"What bullshit are you spewing? He literally left this morning."

Toland's expression darkened. He leaned forward, his face filling my screen as he spoke in a hushed, urgent tone.

"No, he's near you. His magnetic field is dangerously weak. Based on my experience, your brother may already be… gone. And soon it will be your turn."

My blood instantly boiled.

"Who the fuck do you think you're cursing?"

Toland ignored my outburst. He suddenly jerked forward, his pupils contracting to pinpoints as he stared not at me—but past me, fixating on something over my shoulder.

"Don't. Move." His voice rasped like sandpaper on wood.

His gaze darted anxiously across the shadows behind me, lingering in corners where the light couldn't reach. The air in my room suddenly felt thick as tar, each breath tainted with a hint of something rotten. Despite no windows being open, a bone-chilling cold wrapped around my ankles like something alive.

"Can't you feel it?" His Adam's apple bobbed as his voice dropped to barely a whisper.

I rolled my eyes and was about to turn around when his terrified voice cut through: "The magnetic field there is all wrong! It's like a black hole, sucking the life energy from your entire house! Your home… your home was built on a goddamn 'pit' from the beginning!"

Before he finished speaking, I felt that familiar chill creeping up my ankles. I'd always dismissed it as a draft in my old house, but now that cold sensation felt like an icy serpent coiling around my skin, slowly slithering upward.

The chat comments almost froze.

My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to appear calm, jabbing a finger at the screen: "My house is in Biville, South Carolina, surrounded by forests—of course it's cool! You damn fraud, quit trying to scare me with your bullshit!"

Despite my words, I found myself pulling my blanket tighter. The house had been unusually cold lately.

Just then, the door swung open without a sound.

Mom glided in with a glass of milk, her footsteps eerily silent on the carpet. She noticed I was livestreaming and flashed her usual gentle smile.

"Emma, still busy, sweetie?"

I swallowed my anger and turned to her: "Mom, you drove my brother to college this morning, right? Is he settled in? Has he texted you?"

Mom placed the milk on the table. "He's settled in just fine. Says not to worry about him." Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotion.

I grunted in acknowledgment and was about to turn back to Toland when I noticed his expression. He looked like someone who'd just surfaced from drowning, staring at my screen with all color drained from his face. His eyes were fixed on the spot where my mother had been standing, his mouth hanging open in silent horror.

His expression made all my prepared insults die in my throat.

Mom smiled, turned around, and gently closed the door—

The soft "click" of the latch sounded unnaturally loud in the silent room. Toland's pupils contracted sharply, as if the sound came not from the door, but from something snapping inside his own head.

"Oh God…" A hoarse whisper escaped his throat, his nails digging into his palms. "Run! Emma! Get the hell out of there!"

"What the hell are you on about now?" I frowned, though my heart was hammering against my ribs.

But Toland's next words were like an ice pick driven straight through my skull.

"That's not your mother… that's a fucking lizard person!"

My blood turned to ice.

"Think about it!" Toland's voice was desperate, as if he was running out of time. "The curtains in your house—haven't they been closed for weeks? Lizards hate sunlight! And haven't you noticed your mother's sudden hatred for birds?"

My heart plummeted, and a chill crawled up my spine like a centipede.

My parrot—which I'd raised for five years—was "accidentally" set free by my mother last week. That morning, I heard frantic fluttering from its cage. When I rushed to the living room, I found my mother standing by the open window, emerald green feathers still clutched in her fist.

"Oh no, darling, the cage wasn't closed properly, and the poor thing flew away." She gave me a regretful look and smiled, but now that I think about it, that smile seemed mechanical, like her lips were being pulled upward by invisible strings.

The curtains in our home haven't been opened since last month. Every time I try to let in some sunlight, my mother materializes behind me.

"Sunlight will damage the new furniture," she always says, her pale fingers pressing firmly on the edge of the curtain. But that "new furniture" has been in our home for decades—since when did it become so fragile?

Toland's voice seemed to whisper directly into my ear, carrying the scent of rust: "The lizard is shedding its skin… your mother… she's not…"

Before I could process this, the chat suddenly exploded with comments scrolling frantically.

"THE DOOR!"

"UNDER THE DOOR! LOOK UNDER THE DOOR!"

"DON'T TURN AROUND! WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T LOOK!"

"Something's crouching there, watching through the crack!"

"HOLY SHIT! I SEE GREEN EYES!"