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6. Out of This World and into Another

October 16th, 2006 | Posted by pftq in Possibility | #
   Sam Pete would never leave his car out unattended in such an insecure place.  The hour was very late, and his car stuck out gleaming like a diamond in a pile of coal.  Our town may be small, but we had our own problems just as all other towns did.
   Wait.  It was the dead of night.  My car was shut off, and there were no lights for miles.  How was Sam’s car gleaming?
   I approached slowly, repeatedly glancing from side to side.  Yet, I could not figure out where the light was coming from.  I don’t recall Sam having turned his car into a giant light bulb, though it did look ridiculously like one.
   When I had come within a few feet of the car, I had to shield my eyes and turn away.  The car was that brightly lit.  I even felt a wave of heat radiating off of it.
   I’m not sure what came over me just then, but I had a strange urge to feel how hot the car actually was.  My right hand shot out and went smack into the slick, cold steel.  Cold steel.
   Nevertheless, I felt heat from pouring down upon me.  If not from the car, then from where? As I pulled my hand away, I noticed something strange.  My hand created a thick, solid shadow about the surface of the car.
   Just as I glanced up, the light and heat disappeared, but I saw it.  I glimpsed it.  A huge, white flame hung above me and the car for just a split second, before silently jetting off into the night sky.
   It all seemed like a dream to me.  There was absolutely no sound, almost a similar feel to a silent movie.  It was just too surreal; I must have been dreaming for sure.
   I reached into my pocket, found something round and rubbery, and threw it at Sam’s car to have it rebound straight back at me.  If this was no dream, I should probably feel something.
   As it flew, I caught a glimpse of what I had thrown, but it was too late.  The cap flew off as the green, egg-like object soared through the air.  It missed the exterior of the car completely and crashed through the side window.  For no apparent reason, I jumped up into the air as high as I could, not sure if out of surprise or an attempt to find cover.
   Yet, nothing happened.  I inched my way toward the car to see if the grenade was still there.  My common sense seemed to have eluded for the moment.  I wasn’t sure what I was thinking.
   An explosion sounded from within, followed by the shattering of the car windows, before the metal exterior of the car itself finally ripped apart and shot off in all directions.  I leapt up into the air again, again for no apparent reason.  A sheet of metal somehow struck me just perfectly at my feet to boost me several feet into the air, where force of the explosion caught and threw me up even higher.  I waved my arms frantically to find hold of something.
   Something hit me in the face.  I swear it was a potato, but it was too dark to be certain.  I reached out my right hand as far as I could to find it.  Instead, my hand collided promptly with a cold hard metal.  The rest of my body followed, crushing my outstretched arm and smashing my nose for the third time.
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7. Eye to I

February 8th, 2007 | Posted by pftq in Possibility | #
   There was stillness in the pitch-black night.  Not a single creature scurried; not a worm crawled.  Effort to hear even the breathing of one’s own lungs would put strain on the ears, and yet be in vain.  It was a world where a blind, deaf man and the most athletic person in history could stand side by side, eye to eye, and not know the other was there.
   So strange it is to be in such a place, I thought.  Where am I? Who am I? Have I yet to be born?
   I pondered for a moment, searching hard and long for answers I could not find.  At times, I found myself squinting my eyes, only to realize I should be searching my memory instead.  It was difficult to differentiate between the world outside and my very own mind.  Whether I was actually looking about or thinking to myself, I could scarcely tell.  Both my head and the world around me were empty and dark.
   A booming voice echoed from beyond.  “Worthless planet being! We are not worthless planet beings! We are from other planet! We worthful other planet beings! What is your name?!”
   I could not perceive the significance of the statement, nor understand it.  It was as if I was listening to aliens from another planet, but I did not say that, in fear of insulting the seemingly higher beings.
   Instead I questioned back as politely as I could, “Are you God? Am I in heaven? Why is heaven so dark?”
   “WRONG YOU BAFFOON! We are not dog! We eat dog! Tell us your name!”
   This statement, I understood and cheerfully replied, “Ah, so you speak English?”
   After what seemed an eternity, I suddenly noticed a finger against my nose.  The finger was the only object visible amidst the darkness; the hand attached to it was faded away and hidden in the shadows.  It must have been there for some time, for I felt neither pressure nor pain; the nail of it appeared to have been dug deep into my skin.
   Was it my finger? I wondered.  What did my finger even look like?
   I glanced at it again.  Lack of light made it incredibly difficult to examine the finger, but it appeared to be a shade of green.  Several spikes rose off its sides and a strangely familiar sapphire ring enclosed it.
   Was my finger green? Did I have a ring? What is sapphire?
   I pointed my eyes inward and focused more intensely upon it, as it was the only thing there was to look at it, but immediately I experienced a terrible headache.  A sharp numbing pierced my eyes and my brain throbbed feverishly.  My eyes felt as if yanked from their sockets, and I immediately redirected them toward the black space before me.
   What just happened? Why did I feel pain? Should I try again?
   And so I did, only this time, the pain came back twice as strong and my dizziness three times as disorienting.  My brain seemed to have become dislodged from the interior of my skull, spinning independently about.  Was the world spinning with me? I could not tell.  All I could see was the finger still attached to my nose, its nail wedged deeply into my skin, although I could not feel it.
   Then out of nowhere, an alarm rang.  The folds of darkness lifted to reveal a blinding white light.  Deafening noises blasted their way into my eardrums, shredding every one of them.  Memories overwhelmingly flooded back into my head; I felt my scalp burn and stretch, my head ready to burst open.
   I slapped my hand at my head to keep it shut, but it met a small, hard ball.  My headache only grew as I struggled to understand the new revelation.
   Why is my head so small?! I screamed in my mind.  No wonder I have headache!
   After a moment however, I realized the absurdity of my previous statement.  It could be my eyeball.  That would make more sense.  It would also explain my headache if my eye was detached…
   That must mean my head had burst! I realized alarmingly.
   “What are you screaming about?” the voice of an elderly woman grumbled.
   A hard fist collided with my nostrils, freeing the mysterious finger.  My eyes cleared to reveal my surroundings.  The shock of what lay before me almost sent me hurling back into the depths of insanity.
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8. Reunion

April 14th, 2007 | Posted by pftq in Possibility | #
   Slap! It came so hard across my cheek.  I glanced wildly for a moment, bewildered and confused.
   “Mom!” I cried out.  “What was that for?”
   A second, nearly identical woman walked into view behind who I called Mom.  Both looked alike and had on the same clothes.  The second only had slightly longer hair and was smaller in stature.  She stared at me in what appeared to be ghastly shock and disbelief.
   I glanced back at the first woman, who suddenly roared out in an astonishingly deep voice, “I’M YOUR FATHER!”
   Time seemed to stand still just then.  I blinked a few times.  Well, I blinked only once, but that one blink seemed to last forever.  It took me a moment to realize that it was only I who moved slowly, as my supposed father scratched his head and tapped his finger impatiently.
   It all became clear to me just then.  How could I have been so stupid? First not recognizing my own father was bad enough; mistaking him for Mom is just shame.  Then again, I did always confuse the two.  How one confuses his own parents I do not know myself.
   “Tom quit beating our son,” my mother sighed.  “It’s no wonder he can’t remember us.”
   Dad stepped back and sat himself onto a stool, slightly embarrassed but stubborn nonetheless.  “He was the one screaming!” he argued.  “And he called me Mom!”
   “It’s not my fault you both look so alike,” I grumbled.  “Where am I anyways? I can’t remember a thing.”
   Something was itching the back of my mind though; something wasn’t quite right.  What was wrong? Well I couldn’t figure out where I was, but there was something more to it.  Something about my parents…
   Suddenly my dad stood up proudly.  “Son! Have you wondered just where we have been all these years?”
   That one statement was all I needed.  Dad’s lone suggestion set off an avalanche within my head.  Once again, thoughts and memory, I never knew I had, poured into my skull.  It all came back to me in a flash.  Literally.
   “Tom! I told you that was a bad idea!” Mom suddenly cried out.  “You overloaded his poor little head.”
   Machines nearby that I failed to notice before were suddenly flaring red.  An alarm sounded somewhere in the room, and a green tinge lit the walls.  I wasn’t sure where I was, but I knew this wasn’t home.
   “Wendy, you said that over a decade ago!” Dad shouted, straining his voice against the alarm.  “I would think his head has grown at least by now!”
   “Well you were wrong!”
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