Contest [Issue 35] Continue the Story... Returns! [Chapter 2]

[Omar_Enze 846]

good luck 

[Tanker1928374655 133]

INNER TRUTHS

PART TWO - Prisoner

 

   My eyes were bloodshot, and life-less. My energy, drained out of me. Struggling to find a trace of exsistance of man, I trudged for hours in the scorching rays of the sun. Suddenly, my eyes light up. In the distance, a faint light shrouded in fog was in sight. Energy quickly replenished my energy-deprived body. I sprinted toward the light, as an image of a cottage gradually became more distinct. I knocked on the oak door, weathered by the elements of nature. The oak door progressively opened. An elderly man appeared from the cottage.

   "May I stay here for just one night? I'm in desperate need for a place to stay tonight," I asked as I dropped a few coins into the man's hand.

   The man nodded as he signaled for me to come in. I slowly walked into the small cottage, and set down my belongings.

   "Would you care for a piece of steak?" the elderly man asked. I slowly consumed the steak.

   "This steak tastes sort of funny," I said as my mind began to spin. The sound of crickets chirping gradually becomes more faint. Then, silence.

   I awaken to an orchestra of birds chirping and the bright rays of the sun. I take a quick glance around.

   "Where am I?" I wondered. I slowly get up and look around for an exit. I shake the door. Locked.

   "Where do you think you're going?" the elderly man bellows as he removes his disguise. As he and his comrades drag me into a jail cell.

   "Enjoy!" the man snickers, as his comrades laughed.

   "This isn't right! You'll never get away!" I screamed back.

   "If I got a piece of gold for everytime I heard that, I would be rich!" the man replied, as he and his comrades walked away.

   I banged my head against the wall.

   "I knew I shouldn't have bothered finding a place to stay!" I complained. I knew it was going to be a long time until I would ever return home. I closed my eyes, as I drifted to sleep.

Edited June 7, 2015 by Tanker1928374655

[Tanker1928374655 133]

TriNitroToIuene, on 06 Jun 2015 - 10:31, said:


INNER TRUTHS

PART TWO:IDENTITY


My eyes were immediately greeted by a sight nobody in their lifetime can see and come out sane - a corpse, lying cleanly in two halves in a pool of blood. I saw a beard, and a heavy jaw, with thin eyelids. I knew enough to tell that this wasted face was once a handsome man.


I rubbed my eyes, still dazzled by the harsh sunlight, and pretended against hope that I was hallucinating, but when my pupils cleared, the same gruesome sight lay before me.


I was immediately hailed by a dose of nausea. I couldn't stand it. I veered aside and threw up.


Retching and limping, I looked at my surroundings. I was in a street. A street that looked as if it had been vacated in a hurry - and quite recently. A board advertising hot dogs lay on its side, hanging on by one hinge to a building with half its windows broken. The road was black; the asphalt looked brand new, but one thing looked really suspicious - a gaping hole in the middle of the road. It was surrounded by black cinders, spreading in an arc as if the road had caught fire.


Not fire, I thought. The place looks as if it has been bombed.


On an impulse, I looked around the corner, and sure enough, I found an empty grenade shell.


That's a Herrscher grenade, I recollected.


A stabbing headache broke through my body. How did I know that was a Herrscher grenade? I had just woken up minutes ago with no memory, and now I ended up in a bombed street, probably in the middle of a war, and exactly identified a lethal weapon used by the military or........... What am I? WHO am I? Again, I tried to recall my past.


A flash of red greeted me. I looked at the corpse, expecting to see blood, but instead, found a bloodstained diary, near the pocket of the lower half of the dead body.


With an increasing feeling of apprehension, I opened the diary, and flicked the pages till I found a date of a week ago (I referred to the clock mounted on the streetlight in the process).


1st June


The Interpol has issued a code-red alarm for this unknown male, known to operate under the alias 'Braudy'. His specifications are six feet of height, and a long, thin sallow face. We have issued a ten million euro reward for information leading to his capture. He is convicted of storming the Congress Round Table Conference and killing at least a hundred and forty politicians and support staff on his own. Is currently known to be hiding at a location around fourteen kliks from our headquarters. Search operations are on from tomorrow.


I was shocked. This Braudy person had killed a hundred and forty people in cold blood. No wonder Interpol were looking for me.


Another headache. Why am I referring to Braudy as 'me'? I shook my head clear and turned some more pages.


4th June


We have zeroed into Braudy's location. We have asked for S.W.A.T backup and should be storming his fort in three days. The President has issued a death warrant. If caught, he faces death by firing squad.


Oh, god. I am in trouble.


Yet another headache. Why am I referring to Braudy infirst person? I am not a murderer. Stop these thoughts!. I chided myself.


I arrived at the last page, reading today's date, the seventh of June.


7th June


Braudy is now in a coma. We stormed his quarters and found a dead body of a boy who couldn't have been more than four years old. There were six bullets in him, and all came from a rifle in Braudy's hand. There is nothing different in his appearance, except for a fresh scar in his right arm, which is still oozing blood. We have decided to leave him unsecured as he is of no danger to anyone in catatonia. Code Red Operation is a success.


My hands trembled as I dropped the diary. Sweating profusely, I felt a medley of thoughts run through my mind, none of them comforting. The recollection of the boy..... the rifle..... the scar on my arm...... the catatonia...... all led up to one thing - my true identity, and that a flurry of realization went through my mind.


I am a terrorist.


I am a murderer.


I am Braudy.

 

BTW... I'm not sure if you can win the contest again... but nice piece :P

Plus... you know what's going on better ;)

Edited June 7, 2015 by Tanker1928374655

[Tanker1928374655 133]

There are like 12-13 entries so far... May the best entry win! B)

[greyat 2,972]

FUGUE

 

A grisly scene of death sprawls out before my unbelieving eyes. It’s a courtyard covered with yellowing, dying grass, but more unsettling is what lies on the grass. Scores of men, women, and children, dressed in prison garments. They’re all dead; now I know what the putrid scent was emanating from.

A strange thought passes through my mind, sprung there unbidden.

The boots of progress march ahead, trampling o’er it all.

With my foot, I turn over the nearest corpse, a middle aged man. He’s been dead for a few days now; signs of decay are abound. Despite the poor condition of the body, it’s easy to determine his cause of death. There are multiple bullet wounds on him; given the wide spread of them, it seems that a machine gun was the perpetrator of this massacre.

Who did this?

It’s eerily silent in the courtyard. No birdsong, sounds of insects at all. Only the sound of the soft rustling of the wind in the sun-dappled trees.

Walking further along, taking care to not tread on any corpses, I see something strange near the edge of the yard. It’s a large black duffel bag. There’s something off about it, a faint, sickly sweet odor of WD-40… gun lubricant.

The boots of progress march ahead, trampling o’er it all.

What does this all mean?

More memories flash through my head. Some of them faint, some clear - painfully clear.

Prisoners, dressed in orange jumpsuits, milling about in a scorched courtyard.

Rat-tat-at. A faint sound of machine-gun fire. I hear screams, cries for help, but they’re muted, as if at a distance. I see a man, outfitted in black, manipulating a machine gun.

A ghostly whisper, ‘For progress, my friend, for progress.’

Light, fading from dying eyes.

 

Trampling o’er it all.

 

The same man, holding a flower, head bent, shoulders slumped. Wracked with guilt over his deeds.

Another whisper: ‘Don’t do it.’

The man responds, ‘It’s not progress. Not this way. This is murder!’

The flower is flung onto the ground.

The memory fades to darkness, amid the sounds of a scuffle.

 

There’s one thing I’m sure of now. That man is me.

Though I know nothing of my identity, I know I have a purpose in life.

 

I must fight against this progress, progress towards a indifferent, cruel world.

Edited June 10, 2015 by greyat

[Destrod 2,634]

                                       Story

                                              INNER TRUTHS-A Mystery Awakens

 

 

I pick myself up, and walk up to the blood-stained door. I needed to do what must be done, I needed to find some answers. How did I get here? Who was that boy? What is that scar on my arm? So many question marks, but lack of full stops. 

I approached the door with timid steps and opened it. The room groaned, like the groaning of an old house made of wood. I entered a hallway, my mind still shacken from the reverie. The walls blood-stained, it was a sight of pure horror and mystery. I approached the main hallway, shacking and trembling. All around, I could see blood stained robes and coats, like an experiment that went wrong. But whats this? I see another white coat, much cleaner this time, lying there on a table amidst the red coat-yard. I pick it up, an ID card inside its pocket. I look at it, "James Downing- Senior Cardiologist" it read." A hospital" I think. The picture of his face, too clouded with blood. I walk away from the place, still thinking about the man. And suddenly, I hear a huge scream, like the screaming of a tortured person. I ran, as fast as my legs could carry me. The sound kept echoing around the building, and each sound fell on my mind like a blistering hammer. I approached the room from where the scream was heard, and what I saw, doubted me of my existence. A young girl, tied down to a table by three strong and muscular men, wearing deconstructed Army suits. " Wha. what are you people doing? What is this?" I yell, at the top of my voice. " Help me! Please help me!" The girl cried, with a face, I dare not describe. A man came from behind, and pushed me into the room. "Shhh! Did I not tell you to keep her quiet!" The man yells. "Who are you? What are you doing to this poor girl!" I yelled, pushing the man who did the same to me. I punch him in the face, " Where am I? What is this PLACE!" I yell, constantly beating the man. He blocks me, holds my hand, making it inaccessable. He points to the snake like scar on my arm, and says, "Welcome to The League" Smack! A punch on my face, and I found myself back where I started, in the same room, with the same thoughts. A flash of white illuminates my eyes, and I fall back into a reverie. 

" I see the same boy which I saw before. He approaches me, in a timid and peaceful manner, smiles at me. He mentions with his hand to follow, and I do as I am instructed. The boy leads me to the same room where the girl was kept. "Help me! Please help me!" the girl yells, like she did before. I rush to help, but the boy pulls me back with his hand, and says "We are ghosts to them now, It is best not to come in nature's way." I watch, as the men brutally torture her body, cutting off her hair, her feet and her hands. Oh! the sights I could dare not imagine. "But why are they doing this?" I ask the boy. "The girl has an antidote inside her, and these people are trying to extract it from her." They suddenly stop, the girl bleeding badly, screaming, Oh! I cannot describe those screams. "We have found it" they mumble. And then, my mind began to creek, and groan". Pain kicked in, like a shawl stretching out of a Birch tree, I fell, and I was overtaken by a flash of white. I woke up back in the room, a sense of responsibility arose inside me. I was destined to end this, and find what needed to be found.   

 

 

                                                 "To be Continued"

 

                                                                                                                                     Author: Destrod                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

[Ninja 10,468]

Inner Truths
Chapter Two: C-4

The heat of the sun doesn't do any good to my parched lips. I stare out, a matt-black Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk's standing in front about 400 yards away. I recognised them, they were the 'enemy's' assault helicopters that had plagued us for months the government had never been able to hunt it down for destruction & yet here they were in front of me & no one in sight.

From that point I had no doubt in my mind that they had left me in that prison as a hostage. With a heavy dose of insulin for good measure, I was diabetic so somehow I had managed to pull through. Something in my mind told me that the less these guys saw me move the better.

An escape strategy was forming in my mind. If you could call it a strategy...

5 & half hours later: It was pitch black, other than an eerie glow from the stars millions of miles above me, 5 minuets earlier I had seen 3 personnel walking towards the Black Hawk they had got in. Little did they know that they had an extra passenger on board, me.

I was squashed up right at the back of the second helicopter, if any of the terrorists turned round they would have seen an unusually large pile of kit.

The Black Hawk was flying at it's highest altitude, around 19,000 ft. I had taken a high interest in helicopters during my earlier years & had many of the stats engraved in my mind. This Black Hawk's R.O.C was 1,300 ft per minute and it had been going upward for about 15
minutes.

Now it was flying due east, toward my home town. Exactly what I had expected. But something had gone wrong.

It was impossible to jump from 19,000ft without proper H.A.L.O or H.A.H.O equipment, I only had a MC1-1C series round parachute.

I would have to stay in the helicopter till it landed, my 'strategy' was a complete failure.

I had failed to plant the C-4 explosive devices on the helicopter, I had let down my family they would have another night of hellish
7.2mm rounds from the 'enemy' in the middle of nowhere. They wouldn't stop until one family member was hit. Still it didn't mean that they had to endure another night next week, it wasn't too late to plant the explosive device. It was just a matter of time...

3 hours later: Touch down, the Black Hawk landed safely, unscathed as ever. It wouldn't be long though before it were a pile of smouldering steel, hopefully. I waited for the 3 men to leave, then gave it another ten minuits. I was about to make exit before I heard
a shout 'THAT HOSTAGES GONE'. They had discovered my disappearance.

It wasn't an ideal situation, the explosive hadn't been planted & they were looking for me. The revving of a land Rover engine reaches my
ears. The hunt had begun.

My past comes flooding back in to my tired mind, the talk with Andrew my father, the killing of my younger brother, the feeling of revenge.

The 'enemy' had shot my brother from the air, taken me hostage, all for me to keep quiet about what I knew about the assassination of the priminister. How I had got hold of the C-4, I didn't know, all I Knew was that I had to finish the helicopter off, and quickly...

 

 

If you spot any mistakes let me know. :)




 

[CRIME_GUY 72]

there are less entries this time

[TriNitroToIuene 4,765]

Ikr, there's better chances for people to win

[PenguinNEWexp 11]

^{_{did anyone like my entry?}}

Edited June 14, 2015 by PenguinNEWexp

[1stsuperwhitedragon 408]

^{_{did anyone like my entry?}}

yeah...

[r_priyangshu0 270]

INNER TRUTHS:

PART TWO:SECRETS

 

I stare half-heartedly at the pale azure sky. I see a squadron of Fighters, presumably on patrol. I finally, in an emphatic way, succumb to the trauma, as a black haze covers the last arcs of the pale sky..

 

I wake up with a sense of renewad vigour, only to find myself being dragged on the leaf-laden soil by a pack of wolves. I start struggling to free myself, but one of the canines notices, and snarles to alert the others. Suddenly, I hear gunshots. The wolf pack dissolves in the dense green forest. I stood up, still shaken by the sound, which continued to resonate in my eardrums.

 

I walk aimlessly for a few miles, unaware of the direction, when I stumble upon something remarkable..

 

A vast battlefield, littered by a suspicious red substance, which I later identify as blood.

 

I try to comprehend as to what had occured at this barren wasteland, when I trip over an invisible object. It turns out to be my own foot, paralysing for a millisecond, due to exhaustion, or as they say, tiredness.

 

Taking one last look at the wasteland, I sweared to myself, " I'd rather die, than see a place more dead than death itself."

 

I trek onward, past a ravine, looking for any human settlements,when I stumble upon an old diary, hanging from a branch of a dead pine.

I flip some pages, which were written in a dialect I don't understand...when I find this note :-

 

 

"The Optravi Rebels have infiltrated the Zadian Armed Forces(ZAF). Scouts have reported that the ZAF have been pillaging our resources. All Rebels are ordered to to send information regarding ZAF's plans and tactics. "

 

 

To quench my thirst of history, I flip over a few more pages and find another note :-

 

 

"The Rebels have reported that ZAF are planning a mass genocide of their own citizens. Any citizen found to have knowledge of this plan, is to be arrested on the charges of conspiracy against the state. He/she will be brainwashed and placed under arrest.

 

 

I gazed in astonishment.

 

Here I was, reading top secret information of a ruthless plan, by a state that wanted to kill it's own people.

 

Two questions started to reverberate in my mind.

 

What if I had known this?

 

What if I was a Zadian?

 

~~~~~~~

 

378 words - checked by MS Word.

Edited June 18, 2015 by r_priyangshu0

[r_priyangshu0 270]

How is my entry?

[PenguinNEWexp 11]

Nice.

[r_priyangshu0 270]

Nice.

Thanks :)

[Quarks 2,255]

This is much better, I have a chance this time :D

[Daniel898 327]

I'm waiting for Goldrock :ph34r:

[Quarks 2,255]

Hopefully no goldy, we would win period.

[Bugs.meeny 1,013]

Carnage. All I see when my eyes clear is a tumble of metal, concrete, and trees all chrushed down as if the sky had fallen, crubling evrything in its path. And yet, the sky is the only thing that seems unchanged with the bright sun shining above. what happened? Where is evryone? Questions filled my mind, making me more dizzy than I already am. I start searching through the rubble, looking for anything, anyone, that might help me wake from this nightmare. I find a few lifeless bodies among the ruins of what appears to be a homless shelter. I must escape, must find where this destruction ends. It is dificult to navigate through the crash houses and buildings. After hours maybe, I come to a large open space. An airport with many planes sitting unwanted on the runway. I run and get into one of the small private jets. I begin pushing bottons and flipping switches automaticaly. How do I know how to do this? Once I am high in the air, I spot the edge of the ruined city, and make a perfect landing in a broad street crowded with people running from me. Soon men in lab coats rushed into veiw. A tall man steps up to me and shakes my hand. "Im glad your back Sir. How is it, being the first man to ever survive through a shock bomb?"  As I stare into his face, my anger grows. "WHO sent the bomb?!" I screamed as my grip tightened around his hand. He squealed and shouted, "We sent it Sir! You and me!" Suddenly I collapse.

[Remaine 4,687]

Greetings, entrants.

Due to family bereavement, your host cannot judge this contest.

The contest must go on, however - therefore, I have volunteered to take it over until the end or until kirby is ready to take the contest back.

It's just hit the 20th of June in my timezone but the closing of the thread won't be taking place just yet. You have a few more hours.

 

Good luck.

[HUGHIY 568]

PART II--Unsolved Mysteries

 

A glimmer of hope fills my mind; could this sunshine be a symbol of my life about to transform for the better? If I were to give up on my search for the truth before I began, my mind would never lie at rest. Therefore, the conclusion is obvious—I must go on and find out how, why, when, where and, most improtantly, who it was who carried out this most despicable deed.

I quickly set off on my quest to find the one who did this to me. Of course, I am curious what happened to the boy too, but he is the least of my worries; after all, he may be the one who got me into this mystery in the first place, and despite my curiosity being piqued for the first time in a long time, there’s obviously no gratitude which ought to be felt towards the boy.

However, if I am to seek for whoever caused the bang which harmed me so, I must find the boy; after all, as the saying goes’ ‘Two heads are better than one’. I vaguely remember him limping away from the scene, so I assume that he cannot be dead since I was the one who gained the most severe injuries. As of now, I am having to grit my teeth because of the constant pain caused by my injured arm. Maybe I should be thankful it wasn’t my leg, as if it were I would have no chance of finding the boy or the cause of the bang.   

In fact, how do I even know it wasn’t the boy? Do I assume that he is innocent, just because he sustained an injury from the bang too? Or do I set aside this piece of evidence in favour of the opinion that he must be the cause of my injuries? The only way to find out is to find him.

But wait! What if, when I find him, he acts just as violently as he did before, which ultimately led to the bang and the injuries? I cannot risk it. All logic says a simple ‘NO’; this is a bad idea, I’m walking to my death. But I have the desire, no, the need to know what happened. I think I have some details of that boy coming back to me now—ah yes, he is that strange little boy who lives on 23 Woodcombe Street? He’s always had a murderous glint in his eye, despite his innocent age, and has in fact been an orphan for as long as I can remember. His parents have never made an appearance, at least publicly, and so I assume that they are non-existent.

Again, I need to know, do they exist? Could they be the cause of my injuries and near death, along with the limp now acquired by the boy? All these questions and no answers; it’s driving me crazy. I approach 23 Woodxombe Street with slightly too much haste, and rap on the door. I wait with curiosity and fear for about 10 seconds, before the hinges creak, I get grabbed by the scruff of my neck and see a gun pointed right at me—but they have a mask on! The unanswered questions are almost as much a peril to me as the gun.

[benjiblob 99]

Inner Truths

Part II:Taken Hostage

As soon as I see sunlight, I am being clobbered. Before I register what just happened, I am thrown. I feel myself land, hard. When I open my eyes, the scar on my arm appears to be glowing. I blink; it returns to its previous brightness. Then comes a stinging sensation in that arm; I yawn, feel my consciousness slip away.

 

            Right now seems to be a jolly time to tell you what I know about myself, but that area of my brain is lacking in information. I know that I’m 13 years old, and my name is Evan. Evan Mathewson. I remember my mother’s facial features: Blonde, blue-green eyes, and a grin that was glued to her face.

 

*    *    *

 

            When I rise, I bang my head on a low ceiling. Once recovered, I notice that I’m locked in a room approximately 4x4 feet with threatening skulls on each wall. Each skull boasts a plaque underneath. I decide to pass time reading them. The skull nearest me was smallest in the room.

 

            Unknown name

Male. Died at age 19. Uncertain cause of death. Skull is only part of the body found, with knife next to it. Isolated at death site.

 

I sigh. No personal information. I hate looking for clues, but to put together any puzzle, you need all the pieces. To prepare a dish, you need all the ingredients. To solve mysteries, you need all the clues. And boy, did I have a mystery to solve.

 

*   *   *  

 

            I was going to advance to the next skull to search for anything relevant when I heard a click and the door opened. I was surprised and speechless.

 

            “Your turn. Come with me.” said the intruder, sharply.

            “B-but, wha-”

            “NOW!!!” he interjected.

            “You aren’t taking me anywhere yet, mister. First you’ll tell me exactly how I got here, who YOU are, and what exactly it’s my turn for.”

 

            Of course, I retained many more questions for him-for anyone who knew the answers-and wondered when people would stop depriving me of answers. I also wondered who knew them, because someone had to. Just the fact that anyone has the slightest idea about my past would make my day. No, it would make my lifetime.

 

            Well. Instead of telling you, I’ll show you.” I was against this idea, but since I probably wouldn’t get my answers spoken I obliged.

 

            I anticipated almost the complete opposite of what the tall, blonde man with tight glasses and neon blue pants showed me. He took me to a small room, about 7 feet across, and served me a small box of cereal for breakfast. I had the suspicion that the food was setting me up for something bad. This man could not be trusted-he had a mysterious pouch hanging from his slick  belt, and he only seemed to show one expression every time I looked him in the eye. I couldn’t identify it.

*    *    *   

 

            The rest of my day was so miserable that I forgot it when I went to bed. The room I was to sleep in tonight was underneath a run-down shack not far from their main building. Guess they had determined I wasn’t fit for the comfort of skulls staring at me.

 

            I dreamt of myself, walking alone in a field of nothingness, except for a huge hill in front. The sunlight was blinding. A few minutes of walking, and I see someone sprinting. As I reach the summit, what’s in front of me is unbelievable: a tower, ascending so high that I cannot see the top, even from this monstrous hill, the tower is the human, the hill the ant. There seemed to be a bright blue light flowing through it. I knew I had seen something like that before...

 

            I start running. As I close in on the man, I notice he has bright blue pants on, and a shiny black belt. I gasp; he turns to face me. “You!” he paused. “How are you here?”

 

            Wait. How was this guy here? In a dream!  And what was his name??

 

            He read my mind. “Ah, you seem to be quite afraid of me. If I gave my name to everyone I met, then I would be afraid.” With that, he turned and resumed sprinting, faster than ever.

 

            I continued descending and I reached the bottom only to be thrown back by a hideous blast of air.

 

Suddenly, I awoke. I heard a deafening scream. I banged my head on concrete again, and it throbbed. I tried to think of what to do. By now, I had quite a few clues and they urgently needed to be deciphered. And I somehow recognized the voice that had issued the deafening scream.

Edited June 20, 2015 by benjiblob

[opidude 437]

Inner truths

Chapter 2: Illusion

As I step outside the door, I felt like something was wrong. I walk along the road, and judging by the fact that the sweet scent of blooming flowers are clearing my nose from that weird smell in the room, it is springtime.
 
I also noticed that there was nobody– except for buildings, and immobile cars. I creep around the dead city, hoping to find someone, but no one was around – not in this city at least. I check around, and found a convenient car with keys inside. I smash open the window, and drive around town – only to find red, juicy blood on a nearby dumpster.
 
The blood is smeared all over the dump walls, but I noticed that there is no source of all that gross substance. I dabbed some blood on my fingers, and noticed that it was still fresh. I crept across the dump, only to find the decapitated head of the boy – the boy that came in my dreams. It appears that someone was torturing the boy and finishing him with a deadly bullet through the head.
 
But how did the boy’s head become decapitated? Who killed him? Was it me? Is he the one who scratched my arm? What did he use to make that deep cut? But most of all, what happened?
 
Those thoughts boggled around my head as I searched for the object that the boy had scratched me with. In the far distance, I see some blood on a sharp pocket knife. Judging from the fact that the blood was still not dirty, it must’ve been mine. Then new questions pop up in my brain.
 
What happened after if I was the one who killed the boy? If I killed him here, then how did I end up in that rusty room? Was I the one who tortured that boy? And if I did, who took me to that room?
 
 
I pull myself together and head back into my car. I need to look for clues. While I’m here with no one, I must take this opportunity to find as much information as possible. I jammed my keys in, but then a massive headache storms in my head. I tumble down unconscious, and drive into a deep dream.
 
“What happened?” was my first thought until I saw the boy again. A little bit vague this time, I approached him. I tried grabbing him, but my hand passes through his body. What is this? I can only watch as another person comes. The boy starts giggling, until the man points a gray object. The boy then scratched the man’s arm, a bang comes out, and the boy falls motionless to the floor…
 
I wake up, only to know that all was what I saw as a dream before – from a different perspective. Then was that man me? I can only become more puzzled when I find out that my cut was gone, and my arm was restored. This only meant one thing – I was in the past. Edited June 20, 2015 by opidude