Silence Beneath the Neon Glow

Where Light Fades, in the Echo of Dreams

A towering giant of light shimmering higher than memory, its side alive with a hologram that dances in impossible colors

Yoketu – Part One: The Awakening 

I keep wondering what it would feel like to walk away from all of this. From the endless grind, the screens, the late nights where even my own apartment feels like a cage. Sometimes, I close my eyes and imagine myself standing in the middle of a forest, barefoot, the air wet with mist, water crashing down from a high cliff, the roar of a waterfall swallowing every thought in my head. No deadlines. No obligations. Just silence and breath. 

Other nights, my imagination takes me somewhere else entirely to a city that never sleeps. A place bathed in colors I’ve never truly seen, neon pinks melting into deep blues, violet lights humming on rain-soaked streets, yellow signs flickering above laughing crowds. Couples wandering hand in hand, friends gathered over steaming bowls of noodles, street dancers spinning in the glow of holographic ads. A city alive with sound and light. A city where the night isn’t an ending, but a beginning. 

I tell myself these are just fantasies. Daydreams. Ways to make the heaviness of life a little lighter. 

But last night was different. 

After a long day, I had called my friends after work, hoping for company, hoping for a distraction, but everyone was too busy, too tired. So, I went home alone. Netflix played until my eyes closed. And then I fell asleep so deep, it felt like sinking into water. 

When I woke, the clock said 5:47. I didn’t know if it was morning or evening. My body couldn’t tell either. I rushed to the window, pulling open the curtains and froze. 

Across the street, a tower shimmered, taller than anything I remembered, its side alive with a massive hologram flickering in impossible colors. My heart raced. Then something strang: a spinner floated past the tower, sleek and humming, passengers seemed to glide between cities. My breath caught. “This… this can’t be real.” 

I dressed in seconds and rushed downstairs, out into the street. Everything felt different.  The city wasn’t mine anymore. The sodium lamps that once lit the sidewalks were gone. Instead, the streets glowed in soft pink, blue, violet, yellow. Every wall was alive with neon; every shop spilt out its own light. Music beat from clubs, street food sizzled in open stalls, laughter carried on in the night air. 

My heart flipped between joy and panic. Had I fallen deeper into a dream? Was I still asleep? 

That I can tell by looking at the ads on billboards this is Yoketu. I didn't even think a city like this was real. 

YOKETU CITY

Hours passed or minutes; I couldn’t tell. Eventually, I found myself at the edge of a lake, neon rippling in blues and pinks. Behind me, food courts buzzed with life, but I sat alone, staring at my reflection. 

“Is this what I wanted?” I whispered to myself. “To be lost in the city I only dreamed of? Where are my friends? How do I go back to work tomorrow? Does anyone even know me here?” 

A soft laugh escaped my lips. It all felt too absurd.  And then, a voice: “Miss?”

 I turned. A boy stood beside me, holding a steaming cup. His eyes were kind, his smile disarming. 

“Your order”, he said simply. 

Confused, I didn’t… order anything. My voice trembled. 

He smiled and said, “You’re dreaming now. I can tell, because I used to sit in this same place. So, I thought I’d share a hot cup of noodles and some soju with you, and maybe we could talk things out, if you insist, miss.” He smiled again. 

I stared at him for a while, though I drifted in and out, lost in my own thoughts. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to talk to him that way; I could learn more about the city. 

He smiled and said, “I’m Turan, and your name?” 

I hesitated, just for a bit. Then I gave him the only truth I had left. 

“My name is Zivi.” 

Yoketu – Part Two: The Bench 

I sat with my hands folded in my lap, legs shaking restlessly as if my body was trying to run even while I stayed still. I glanced at the steaming cup on the bench, then at the boy beside me. His presence was strangely calm, as if he belonged to the neon night in a way I didn’t. 

Finally, I broke the silence. My voice was thin, edged with curiosity.  

“Why did you say that? That I’m dreaming?” 

Turan’s eyes caught the shifting colors of the lake, violet and blue dancing across his face. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he smiled not mocking, not playful, but something softer. 

“I didn’t just say it,” he murmured. “I meant it.” 

I blinked, unsettled. “But… this feels real. The rain, the lights, the people” I gestured to the streets behind us, where laughter rose and fell like music, where couples clinked glasses under glowing signs. “I can smell the food, hear every sound. If this is a dream… it’s the most real dream I’ve ever had.” 

Turan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It pulls at you; makes you forget the difference between dreams, memories and reality. Some people live their whole lives in this city without ever knowing which part of it is true.” 

His words made my stomach twist. I wanted to laugh it off, deny it, but deep down, I recognized the pull in his words. I thought of my long nights alone, the fantasies I clung to just to survive the weight of my days. Maybe this city had been waiting for me all along. 

I shook my head, forcing out brittle words. “If I really am dreaming, then I’ll wake up. I’ll go back. My life… My… Everything.” 

“And do you want that?” Turan asked softly. 

My breath caught. I looked at my shaking legs, at the rippling neon reflected in the water. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know what to answer. 

I lifted the cup he had left for me, letting the steam brush my face. I took a sip. The broth was hot, savory, alive with flavor. Too alive to be just a dream. 

I whispered, almost to myself: “I don’t know what I want anymore.” 

Turan turned toward me, steady eyes catching mine. He didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked as though he had been waiting for me to admit it.  

“Then maybe Yoketu is where you’ll find out.” 

For a moment, neither of us said anything. Then, out of nowhere, we both started laughing, soft at first, then louder, rolling through the night. I couldn’t remember the last time it had felt that easy, that real, something that came from deep inside. 

When it faded, Turan leaned back. “If you want to live in your fantasy, then Yoketu is your place. But if you had a different dream…” His voice softened, almost sad. “You’d better sleep again.”  

I looked carefully at him. There was something about him I couldn’t place, mysterious, yes, but also kind. I found myself smiling.  

“Then show me,” I said. “Show me this place. I want to explore it.” 

Turan’s mouth curved into a small smile. “Tomorrow. Seven p.m. Meet me here.”  

The next night, we wandered Yoketu together. Through noodle stalls glowing red and gold, through underground clubs pulsing with music that shook the walls, through VR arcades where players vanished into worlds within worlds. The streets throbbed with life, and I drank it all in every laugh, every taste, every shard of neon. 

For the first time, I wasn’t just dreaming about Yoketu. I was living it. 

Hours later, when the night began to thin, Turan glanced at me with a new seriousness in his eyes. His voice dropped low, “Do you want to see something different?” 

My eyes lit up. “Different than this? Why not? Take me.” 

His smile was faint, but it didn’t reach his eyes this time. “Then we go to the Lost City.” 

Something in his voice shifted. A weight, a sorrow. I felt it immediately. The name lingered between us, heavy and unfinished. For the first time since I’d stepped into Yoketu, I felt a chill under the neon glow. 

Yoketu – Part Three: The Lost City 

The next evening, the city felt different. The neon lights still shone, the streets still buzzed, but the air was heavy, as if Yoketu was holding its breath. 

Turan was already waiting on the bench when I arrived. No noodles this time. Just him, hands folded, staring at the rain-slick walkway. 

“You’re early,” I said, a little surprised. 

He glanced up, faint smile tugging at his lips. “So are you.” 

Before we left, Turan stopped by a small shop. He picked out glowing neon charms: tiny trees, tiny blue birds, a cluster of four little stars, and a red name-sign that spelled Zivi. He handed them to me without a word. 

I laughed softly, touched. “I’ll stick these on my wall,” I said, holding the glowing trinkets close. For a moment, Yoketu felt light again. 

Turan led me down narrower streets, past shuttered arcades and empty alleys where the neon glow barely reached. With every step, the city’s familiar hum grew quieter, like it was fading behind us. 

“Where are we going exactly?” I asked, quickening my step to stay beside him. 

“You’ll see.” His voice was steady, but there was something in it, something heavier than last night. 

We rode in a Spinner, a sleek flying car, and the city opened up beneath us. Yoketu’s towers blazed with shifting holograms, sky-bridges humming with lights, and I pressed my face to the glass like a child, wide-eyed at the neon sprawl. 

But Turan stayed silent the whole ride. 

When we landed, I blinked and was shocked. This was nothing like Yoketu. No light, no life. Just an abandoned city swallowed by shadows, buildings cracked and hollow, streets buried under dust and silence. 

“Where are we?” I whispered. 

Before Turan answered, a flock of birds flew toward us. I was startled, stepping back. 

“They won’t hurt you,” Turan said quietly. “They’re just afraid of humans. They’re not used to us anymore.” 

I looked at him, puzzled. His eyes seemed far away, filled with something I couldn’t understand. 

“This,” he said at last, voice low, “is where I grew up.” 

I froze, staring at him. My thoughts spun: What the hell is happening here? 

Turan looked across the ruins and said, “Over-urbanization killed this place. People wanted more, higher, faster. We pushed the land until it broke. Then war came inside, outside, all at once. No one could live here after that. The air turned poison. I lost everything.” 

His voice trembled, just once. “I thought I was dreaming too. But it was the worst dream of all. That night, I had a feast with my family, we laughed, we ate, and then we went to sleep. But when I woke up, everything was gone. The world around us had turned to ashes. War; both within and beyond had caught us whole.” 

He exhaled sharply, eyes burning against the dark horizon, half the size of a Little Man takes everything. “Funny, isn’t it? They called the explosion Little Man. But its effect…” He shook his head. “The atmosphere itself became unlivable. There was nothing left to dream about.” 

Suddenly the rain started. We were standing there, soaked. I stood beside him in silence, my chest aching with a sadness I didn’t know how to hold. 

“I used to think,” Turan mumbled, almost to himself, “that one day I’d come back here and find peace. But now, after sixteen years… I stand here for half an hour, and it still aches the same.” 

He called the Spinner with a wave. As we rose back into the glowing night of Yoketu, I sat wordless, lost in thoughts so deep I couldn’t untangle them. 

For the first time since arriving, the neon city didn’t just look like a dream. It looked like a warning. 

Yoketu – Part Four: The Dream 

The Spinner stopped right outside my apartment. For a moment, I thought about asking Turan let's have a meal… But I could tell, he wasn’t in the mood. The air was too gloomy, too heavy for goodbyes. I just stepped down quietly. 

I'm walking toward my apartment, my thoughts tangled. Why did Turan bring me there? Did he not want me here?  

Near the corner, I saw a shop still open. I bought a pack of instant noodles and a drink. Sitting at a little table, I ate slowly, thinking about Turan, the way his eyes had looked in that ruined place. 

Later, in my room, I pulled out the neon charms he bought me, the tiny green birds, the stars, the red sign with my name. I stuck them on my ceiling. When I turned off the lights and lay down, the colors lit up the dark. I felt tipsy, weightless, staring at the glow. And then, I noticed a bird, at my window. I stared at it, wondering where it came from. My thoughts blurred, and before I knew it, my eyes closed. 

8:00 a.m. My alarm rang. I hit the snooze twice. wanting to keep sleeping. I didn’t want to go to work, but I forced myself up, got dressed, and rode the bus. The sun was too bright. my head is too heavy. 

I started my day with a strong black coffee, I felt like I was only half alive, I moved through my tasks quietly, but my mind wasn’t there. then left early. 

The streets were less crowded than usual. I felt a kind of ease. I took a different road home, emptier, quieter. I thought maybe I’d go to a park, or some cozy place. The sky was clear, almost too perfect, beautiful.  

I looked up got distracted and suddenly a flock of birds flew straight toward me. I startled, blinked... 

And then it hit me.  

The memories. Yoketu. The neon. The bench Turan. The Lost City.  

Wait. When did I go there? Where am I now? What day is it? 

I checked my phone. The screen glowed: Sunday. 

My chest tightened. So… I went to Yoketu by myself? But where is Yoketu? 

I ran. Straight home. Straight to my room. Looked up; there they were. The neon charms glow on my ceiling. My breath caught in my throat.  

This wasn’t just a dream. I was there. For real. 

I sat at my desk, opened my laptop, and searched: Yoketu city.  

No results.  

Turan. The Lost City. The Neon City.  

Nothing.  

I felt dizzy. My hands shook. Where did I go? Why can’t I find it? Am I losing my mind? 

I wanted to see Turan. Just once. But I hadn’t even said goodbye last time. I shut the laptop, whispered to myself: Okay. Maybe it’s only a dream. Maybe if I sleep, I’ll get back there. 

I lay down. Hours passed. 9:00 p.m. turned into midnight. Midnight turned into 2:00 a.m. I was still awake, I was still staring at the glowing charms on my ceiling, mumbling to myself 

“Turan… do you really not want me to dream again?” 

A small tear slid down my cheek. My eyes closed. 

The next morning, 

I woke up to birdsong, in the middle of a jungle. The scent of wet leaves filled the air. In front of me, a waterfall spilled down silver rocks, glowing in the early light. I sat on a rock; water mist wrapped around me. 

A bird perched lightly on my shoulder. I smiled, reaching up to pet it. This time, I didn’t wonder if I was dreaming. I just let myself be there. 

The world was quiet. Gentle. Real. I closed my eyes again. And in that silence, I whispered to the wind; 

“I found you” 

— The End