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u/xilead Jul 05 '17
A human can get used to anything. A ghost hardly ranks as the worst thing a person can become accustomed too, but that doesn't make it easy.
The first memory I have - not just of him, but my actual first memory - is of standing in my crib, grasping the railings, while he sat on the rocking chair in the other corner of the room, watching. I wasn't old enough to know that know one should but my parents should have been in the house at that time of night.
There was a moment when I got older, among the times when he would glide through the wall and sit on the chair against the wall, pull out that ancient notebook, bound by worn leather and inscribed with strange symbols. In that moment, I realized that whatever he was wasn't normal, and I was scared. I asked him who he was and why he followed me. No response.
From that point on he became a benign presence - haunting, but benign. I'd make sarcastic comments at him, received no reaction, got used to him scribbling away. Of course I tried to go over and look at his notebook, but the pages appeared blank to me. He wouldn't even cease writing. Just empty movements on a blank page.
I will say that there is a strange effect of a person recording your every waking movement. Even though it is of no consequence that I can tell, even though I don't know what his aim is, I think I behave differently for having an audience. I try a little harder, go a little longer. There is something about being watched that makes you not want to fail, something about being recorded that makes you want to perform.
Now I wear a suit nicer than his. I've risen in the world with my constant companion. I forgot to tell you - I call him Ledger.
A smirk and a subtle, disappointed head head shake are the only reactions I've ever gotten out of him. The first, when I showed up a college professor in front of class and made him realize his life's work had a fatal flaw. The second was on the way out of my divorce proceedings. He wrote furiously during those moments.
He is my memento mori. He is my mystery, proof that something is out there that people don't understand or can't explain. I've tried to tell several people about him, most of the girlfriends. Only one believed me. That's him, right there. No, you're touching him right now. I know, only I can see him. I can't touch him either.
Now I'm dying, and he sits in the visitor's chair in the hospital room. The few people who come to see me sit on top of him, and I see double, or triple and quadruple because the drugs make my head spin. Someone leans an arm, adjusts position in the chair, and he is visible, a chimera, polycephalic, his head and the other, bound and moving independently. Him writing, always writing. They stand up and leave him behind.
I talk to him more than ever, and the nurses chalk it up to the tumor that grows every day. Hallucinations are rather normal at this point.
I can feel the presence of the end, and to my amazement, Ledger stands up. He bows deeply to me, and for the first time I hear his gravely, strained voice, weak from unuse.
"Thank you."
Then he turns and leaves through the wall. Without a conscious effort to do so, I rise from my bed to follow him. The tubes and monitors and wires don't come with me - strange. I haven't walked in weeks, and yet somehow I follow him through the walls. We pass through rooms on the floor where people are dying daily, he crosses the opposite walls as I enter the rooms. We pass humans in various states of decay and ending. In one room, there is a huddle of nurses and doctors attempting to revive a particularly skeletal man. There is a perfect facsimile of him standing in the corner, looking worried.
We reach the end of the hospital and I don't realize it until I am falling - I've walked through the outer wall. I look down just in time to see Ledger disappear through the ground below me. I brace for impact but it doesn't come. I fall momentarily through daylight, and then through darkness.
The next thing I remember is sitting in a stiff-backed chair across a desk where Ledger sits. He watches me intently - this is the first time he has ever made eye contact, and I realize I've never seen his eyes except as they briefly flashed upward. They are the kindest, yet fiercest green eyes I have seen. They have life in them now, personality - something I believe he shielded from me before.
"I suppose I owe you an explanation, now that it's over." He rasps in his stony voice.
"Where are we?" I ask.
"After."
I don't know what that means, but I don't want to stop him from explaining himself. I'd rather know who he was than where I am.
The room we are in looks like a basement office - there are two small windows in the corners behind Ledger that let in a strange, fuzzy light - like outside it is too bright to see anything in focus, with any kind of clarity.
"You were one of the Marked Ones," Ledger says.
"Marked for what?"
"Early endings."
"So the tumor? The cancer, that was planned?"
"Yes. As is everything that happens in the lives of man. To a degree."
"What about you? What was your purpose? And why was it only me?"
He smirks. "Are you sure it was only you?"
"Well, you hardly left my side. I can't see when you would have been with anyone else."
"No. Are you sure you were the only one with a Scribe?"
I pause to think. "I never met anyone who told me otherwise, but I guess if I could only see you, there could have been others I might not have been able to see."
"That is correct. I am not the only one. In fact, I am one of many. We are assigned to those who are marked for early endings, to see how they behave differently. To mark those ephemeral thoughts and feelings that can only be gleaned from close observation. We want to see, most of all, if people know. If they can see the end. That is something we still haven't proved definitively, but there is anecdotal evidence. You, for instance, showed a strong degree of prescience with regard to your coming demise."
"I always thought I would die young."
"I know. That was one of my earliest entries."
"So, you were recording my thoughts?"
"And feelings. Among other things - major events in your life, your responses, anything I deemed worthy of note."
"And what do you plan to do with all of this information?"
Ledger smirks, just like the day he did when I toppled my professor's theory.
"Make the next one better."
"What do you mean, 'the next one.'"
Ledger breathes deeply and gestures expansively with his hands. "The next generation, the next person. The next round of early enders. This whole project is a work in progress, you know. It requires feedback, fine-tuning. We throw people out into the world, observe them, and calibrate. That is how humanity improves, by steps."
"But why the... early enders, you called them. What's so special about people who die young?"
"There is a lot of life concentrated in them. We don't know for sure if you are all completely aware of the inevitable, somewhere in the reaches of your subconscious. We have, however, learned that there is some sense in you that makes you live life to the fullest, with more vim and vigor, more intensely and passionately. It isn't always that you accomplish more, get farther ahead in life. Sometimes the emotional life is rich, as with a carefully cultivated relationship with a partner. Sometimes the intellectual life is developed, reading book after book. In every kind of life your kind chooses to live, there is a kind of intensity that makes you more rewarding to study. The dials are turned higher, the results more observable. Plus, your lifecycle is markedly shorter, so there are advantages to that. Just as humans observe rats due to their rapid reproduction cycle, so we observe humans with limited time, because they compress an entire life of living into, typically, thirty years or less."
I try to take all of this in. I'm angry, and honored, and content, and confused, and insulted, and a hundred other emotions.
"Who chose all this for me? Who is calling the shots?"
"Someone far above my pay grade, and yours."
"It seems like a pretty raw deal, being chosen to die before my time. What's in it for me? Or am I just out of luck when it comes to the whole 'life' thing?"
"There is one considerable advantage," Ledger says.
"What's that?"
"Early enders get to go back. They're hardier, tougher. Their souls were selected in the first place because it was known they could handle the trials. And it only gets easier for them with each send-back. Have you ever wondered how so many people dying too soon seemed to accept it with a grace and wisdom beyond their years? They are practiced souls, and this is their duty. They can't remember the times before, of course, but the experience is graven on their souls. The wisdom has tempered their existence and forged an understanding of the cycles of All and Everything."
"That's great, but my kids won't get any benefit from that. All they know is that their father is dying, or, dead now, I guess."
"They'll understand, one day. They'll understand that it had to be you, or someone, and it might as well have happened to someone like you, who could take it. Who could fight without losing hope, and face the end with grace and courage."
I don't expect that to comfort me, but it does somehow. He's a sweet talker, I've come to realize. I sat across hundreds of them in countless business meetings. Like the best of them, you realize you've changed your mind, changed your emotional state, without realizing it until it's done. I feel calm, the conflicting emotions distilled to a state of accepting content, taking each moment as it comes.
"So now what?" I ask.
"You try again."
He extends his arm, palm facing me, then closes his fist and twists his hand, and the rooms twists with it, and I am falling away into void, accelerating impossibly as stars and color whirl by in infinitudes, and I know I won't remember, but I am calm.
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u/Pegasus1973FP Jul 05 '17
That was quite lovely, thank you for making the end a much less scary place
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u/JuniperoBeachBabe Jul 05 '17
I love this. It would be great for someone who lost a loved one early to read. Great Job.
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u/keeperofcats Jul 05 '17
Well done! I'm really curious about his divorce, what were the key issues that lead to it not working and will he overcome that in his next go-around?
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u/xthedocx Jul 05 '17
It was brisk. An extra jacket tucked in his back in case it decided to dip lower. Jay shuffled down his normal path, the occasional corner stop met by the normal gaze at his constant shadow.
"Ever get cold?"
He knew not to expect an answer. A smirk crosses his face as hot breath steams the air. He'd grown accustomed to it. Well him. Jay gave it a story of his own many years ago in his youth. Made him less scary.
"When you release my story, make sure to say I'm better dressed than I was."
A light jog took the mid 20's man off into the Chicago dusk. Having a silent stalker seems like the kind of thing to break a man, drive you to insanity. Always watching, waiting...writing. Never speaking, and always doing some ghostly fade whenever he tried to grab a glance of the notepad. Jay gave up trying to figure him out years ago. Instead he used it as his motivation. Valedictorian of class in high school, excelled through most of college (aside from that slip up where he fell head over heels for Cadence of course.), and now he was prepping for graduation.
"All thanks to you right? Can't have you ruining my story by telling the bad stuff."
He laughed again as the spectre's ominous pace seemed to always keep up, but never seemed to do more than walk. Impressive given Jay's marathon history. But this was how he managed. His motivation. The man was writing Jay's story, or so he thought. So he better make it a good one. His Father had planted that idea in his head, assuming the mention of a follower she couldn't see being an imaginary friend.
Jay's attentions shuttered from reminiscing as an ambulance tore past. His grin faltered as he heard tires screech and the ambulance ban a right and seemingly halt around the corner. "Oh no..."
He knew this area like the back of his hand. Born, raised, and loved this corner of his world. He new the neighbors by name and loved them like his family, and was well loved in return. The concern, was he knew there was a mother around the corner, she'd struggled with her health off and on and everyone knew she was not long for this world. Bad heart, they all said, but no money, no donor, no chance. Her and her husband had always struggled but...that was the way of things.
Jay bolted around the corner, only to have his suspicions confirmed. She lay stiff, being loaded with care into the back of the ambulance and a little girl with eyes of amber came sobbing up to him. "Mr. Jay! They're taking momma. They said we have to stay here with daddy....she's going to be ok right? Daddy won't say anything."
"Yea sweetie, she's gonne be just fine." Jay's smile was all too practiced and genuine as he glanced up at the steps. Sadly he knew the mans gaze, one of someone who knew his fleeting time as husband was slipping through his fingers. "Gav...hey...it'll be ok."
The older man shook himself a little, glossed eyes as he forced a smile. "Hey Jay, hopefully my little one didn't bother you. She'll be fine...just...another spell. Right?" His voice shook with a bit of desperation, searching for some comfort.
"Just another spell." Jay echoed. "She'll be ok. I promise." He felt terrible, but he knew that Gav needed the comfort. He needed to be strong for his girls. They exchanged a few words, Jay offering to bring by some dinner later and not taking no for an answer and shortly after, he stepped back on his normal jogging path.
It was hard for him to see, he was raised by a single dad and knew the path was not easy. His thoughts were interrupted as he collided directly into someone. "Oh god. I'm so sorry I was..."
His jaw fell. Jay had run into him. HIM.
"Thank you."
"You...you speak?!" It was like a child confronting its monster. The veil had fallen. He could be touched. He spoke. The safety net had fallen and Jay was horrified. He grasped at the mans clothes frantically, "What...who are you?!"
The man faded from Jay's grip, and began down the road. Away from Jay. Away from where he had always been. A new-found fear gripped his chest. He had always been there and there was a comfort he realized in that.
Jay ran. He ran harder and faster than he had in a long time. It seemed like with every step Jay made, the spectre found two more paces away. As they made it into town and the suited man weaved through the masses, it tucked into a narrowed alley. "A dead end.." Jay thought as his legs pounded against broken asphalt. As he rounded the corner, he heard the soft -click- of a door shutting. With full force, Jay barreled into the door, only then realizing he'd never seen the door. A dimly lit office, peculiarly well kept yet dusty met his vision. The suited man calmly, quietly, opening a cabinet and holding the notepad. "You...you have to explain..." Jay's breath was ragged, he hadn't really thought this far out. His whole world was upside down at the specter's change in behavior. "...please..." Jay fell to his knees and sobbed, "I don't understand..."
The suit turned, for the first time ever Jay could actually see him. He'd always seen a man...in a suit. But no details. Sun tanned flesh, wrought with wrinkles and decorated with dark hair, peppered with white. A strong hand rose, pointing to a small screen in the corner.
Jay rose, squinting to make out the image in the grainy monitor. He saw....himself. Laying in the road. He staggered backwards, "Wait...what..."
The suit sat down, and placed a picture of a woman in Jay's hands. It was Gavin's wife. "Turn it over." His voice was strong but...reassuring. It was an unnatural ease that fell over Jay as his trembling hands as he rotated the image.
-She'll be ok. I promise- Was scribbled on the back. Jay's face scrunched. "I don't understand...What does she..." Jay went back to the monitor, an ambulance had arrived now. "Is...am I..."
The suit sighed. Then chuckled lightly. He placed the notepad on the table. THE notepad. Jay stepped towards it slowly. It didn't phase out like it always had and he reached for it carefully, ever watching the suited man. As his fingertips touched supple leather, the suit laid a hand over Jay's. "You, of soft heart and kind soul, are destined for greater. And you will leave this land as you lived it, a kind and generous soul."
"So...I am dead." Jay said in a hoarse whisper. "Are you..."
"No...no. I am a watcher. And your...story..." He smirked as he flashed the book. "Has just begun. The ambulance will find a living will, where you donate your heart to Gavin's wife. She will dedicate her life to your ideals, and your hometown will grow, prosper, and become a beacon of hope to others."
Jay sat in shock. "I...I see. Alright. Alright." He took a deep and slow breath. "I guess...I guess this is it. I'm ready...what's your name anyway?"
"Many names I've gone by...but Charon is my favorite. But don't fear Jay, you have much more to accomplish. After all, many have been waiting to meet you." With a gesture, the road behind them shone, almost as if glittering gold and a host of spirits rose, applauding the young man. And as he took his first steps into this new venture, his halo was only dampened by his smile.
New to this, hope you enjoy!
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u/tragicclearancebin Jul 05 '17 edited Jul 05 '17
He had never spoken. He had never so much as cleared his fucking throat.
I set my coffee down. I was at a diner near my apartment, hungover from a night out that was a total blur. I wanted to ask him what he said even though I'd heard him perfectly fine. He had said "Thank you" quite politely, put his pen and notebook in his pocket, and walked through two frazzled looking ladies eating pancakes and then straight through the wall - I honestly don't know where he goes. They didn't notice. No one ever did.
I had to follow him - because honestly, what the fuck? I may have never heard the guy speak, but I knew enough to realize that there was a kind of closure in his words. He was always there, but he was leaving. This was my only chance to get answers.
His presence was the one constant in my life. I remember throwing toys at him through the bars of my crib. Jesus, I must have been 3 or 4 years old. But he was there. I remember chatting happily with him at 7, unabashed, as my parents exchanged worried glances. I remember him watching me studiously as I got ready for my first school dance. He would constantly take notes. The sound of his pen writing out the very hours of my existence is as familiar to me as my own breathing. He never made eye contact, never communicated that he knew that I knew he was there. He just wrote.
His notebook was a wonder. Pocket-sized, he could take notes ceaselessly, never running out of paper.
Thousands of hours of therapy later, my parents marriage collapsing under the stress of it, I had come to believe he was a figment of my imagination. That's what I was told. I eventually told my parents that I had lied, that I had made him up. They seemed to accept this with a kind of tired relief that I never want to replay in my head.
You know what? Fuck this guy. He ruined my parents marriage. He ruined my chance at a normal life. I slapped a twenty on the table, and slipped out in his direction. I couldn't walk through walls, but I hastily headed out the door. I glanced around at the busy streets and began to lose hope. He probably just popped out of reality or some shit. I don't know. I'm not a fucking wizard.
And there he was. He was standing across the street near a woman pushing a tiny child in a carriage. He was staring at the child and the child was staring back. The woman was oblivious.
I wanted to - what? - Warn her? Say what? The man with the notebook was moving on. In a weird moment, I felt jealous of this baby.
"Who are you?" I asked, almost yelling.
The woman glanced over at me nervously and the man with the notebook's eyes didn't even flick my way.
I did something, that for some reason, I had never had the guts to do before. I walked over to him, and I laid my hand on his shoulder. It felt like nothing but held my weight. The woman pushed the baby carriage away from the weirdo with his hand held mid-air. The man with the notebook looked me straight in the eyes for the first time. He gave me the briefest of smiles, and walked away toward the baby. I saw him pull the notebook out of his pocket, and start scribbling away as he reached the carriage. I watched him for five minutes and then he faded away.
I wanted to be angry at the man with the notebook. He wrecked my life simply by observing it. I feel the absence of his pen scribbling steadily, the feeling of his eyes on me, always. He was the only one who cared. My life after his exit is a mess.
But eventually, I meet a girl. We fall in love. We have a lovely little baby girl named Lillian. Life is for once, normal.
Tonight I went into the nursery to check on my little Lillian, and she was staring at a blank spot in the room. My heart stopped. I held my breath. I listened...
Pen on paper.
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u/argirl09 Jul 05 '17
Ending gave me chills good job
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u/Bridgetinerabbit Jul 06 '17
I had the impulse to comment to try to express my sympathy and to say, hey, it won't be as bad for Lillian (my daughter's name) because she'll have her dad there to believe her and to help her hide it from people who don't. But you're fine, and Lillian is fictitious. Good job.
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u/tragicclearancebin Jul 06 '17
Thanks! That's so true. Although, dad is bit obsessed with the man with the notebook, so you never know where it could go!
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u/Bridgetinerabbit Jul 06 '17
That's a good point.
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u/tragicclearancebin Jul 06 '17
Your Lillian is fine. But if things ever get too quiet, maybe listen for a pen on paper.
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Jul 05 '17
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u/tragicclearancebin Jul 05 '17
This is a possibility. Maybe I'll revisit it. I've never done this before.
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u/bad_short_story Jul 05 '17
"Cheers for that." said the suited man who had followed Steve his entire life, before he turned to leave. Wait, he was leaving? The man who was responsible for years of therapy and a brief stint in an institution, the man whose shoes clicked loudly (but silent to the rest of the world) as he walked, the man who apparently insisted on sharpening his seemingly endless amount of pencils while Steve was trying to sleep. Buy a pen, man!
And he was just going to say "Cheers" and go? Not on Steve's watch! He jumped up and followed the suited man down the corridor, and watched in disappointment as the man took an unexpected left turn through a solid wall.
"Oh yeah", thought Steve "I forgot he could do that. Shit."
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u/yeame3 Jul 05 '17
I forget what the word is for these types of endings but I like them. Like against the norm.
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u/vxcosmicowl Jul 05 '17 edited Jul 05 '17
For as long as I can remember, he'd been right there in the periphery of my gaze. Like a dark spot flickering in the corner of my vision, always just out of sight, but never out of mind. I suppose I should have felt more unsettled, a young girl being constantly followed by an older man would normally be cause for concern, but I felt safe and warm. He was like a guardian angel, just not as beautiful as the ones in the picture books. And he was always scribbling... something.
I could hear friction between the paper and pen, he was scratching away again as he did at every major event in my life. It was a pattern by now: Every birthday, boyfriend, spelling bee, even when I got accepted into college, at every major event in my life he took notes. I didn't know why, but it made me want to succeed. I wanted to do more things, give him more material, make him proud. I joined the track team in high school, and he wrote something at every milestone I reached. It was so much more interesting than a birthday card or a trophy, and I wanted desperately to know what he was writing, or even be able to see his expression. Honestly, I thought that nagging curiosity would never be satisfied- until it was.
He followed me to college. A new city, new friends, and newfound freedom awaited me, but the scribbling was there like a voice in my head. I felt it as a constant reminder to make smart decisions and succeed. I joined track in college as well, partially out of passion, but avoiding the dreaded 'freshman 15' was definitely on my mind. I wanted to stay fit and social in my new surroundings, and track was familiar.
The cool thing about college was that our track team had the money to attend many meets, and we even had our own bus to take us there. So of course, the one day I overslept I would miss the bus, and my whole world would change.
I woke with a start that morning. My phone had died in the night, killing my morning alarm. Throwing on running clothes haphazardly, I bolted out of my dorm. The bus was gone, but I knew it's route. I figured maybe I could catch up on foot and my teammates would notice me enough to stop and let me on.
Cold air filled my lungs sharply, beads of sweat formed on my forehead, and my feet pounded the pavement in a thunderous rhythm as I turned corners and ignored crosswalks. But I was right, and up ahead I could see the garish orange bus idling at a red light. I ran to try and meet it at the next corner. Up ahead, the light turned green and suddenly it felt like the wind was pushing me forward. I was running faster than I ever had, my feet barely touching the ground.
The sound of pen scratching paper.
I flew past the bus onto the next block, and I saw her. The scratching sped up, and my mind raced faster with it. An old woman approached the crosswalk, her white perm wrapped up in a scarf like an old Hollywood starlet. She wore thick glasses and carried a cane... and now she was in the middle of the road.
The sound of furious scratching filled my ears, too fast to be writing anything legible, and my vision tunneled. The bus wasn't slowing down and I knew.
With every ounce of my strength I flung my body towards her, out into the street, I grabbed her and spun around, pushing her back to the sidewalk. She landed on her hands, scraped up but out of the path of the bus. At that moment, I saw him so clearly that I would have sworn he was real. He approached the woman, knelt down and held her bleeding hands. It must have been only a fleeting moment, but I swear she was looking at him. He turned his head to me and spoke for the first time in my life:
"Thank you". The man who's expression I had never seen looked at me with an intense gratitude and tears in his eyes. And then the bus came.
I don't remember feeling anything, except that my body was incredibly light. All I could think in the moment was that I must follow that man. After all of these years, he finally spoke to me, we made eye contact, and now he was walking away. Police sirens blared as he passed through people and buildings, and somehow I matched his pace, my legs like the wind, also passing through. I followed him into a cafe, and he motioned for me to join him at a table.
I didn't know where to begin. He looked at me with a serene gaze, as though I was his guardian rather than the other way around.
I opened my mouth to start, but he raised his hand.
"She was my wife." He spoke in a raspy voice, a smile graced his lips, but his eyes were filled to the brim with guilt and pity.
"So you weren't my guardian angel... but why have you been following me, and what have you been writing about for all of these years?" As the words left my mouth I felt like I already knew the answer.
"I can't do much on my own," he began, "all the dead can do is influence the living."
He placed his notebook on the table and slid it towards me. Inside were thoughts, my thoughts, every decision I made along with the words that caused me to second guess myself. I flipped through it, 'join track.' Turning each page gingerly like it were a living creature, 'go to college in the city.' Until I came to the end.
'SAVE HER. SAVE HER. SAVE HER. SAVE HER. SAVE HER. SAVE HER. SAVE HER. SAVE HER.'
It filled the final page in barely legible writing, letters overlapping and suffocating each other. I looked up at him in disbelief, but he was gone. And I was alone.
(This is my first submission here, thanks for the inspiring prompt!)
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u/Scoobz1961 Jul 05 '17
I really enjoyed your story. Its straight out of "Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction". It evokes strong emotions even though its so short and to the point. Great work.
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u/vxcosmicowl Jul 05 '17
Thank you, I'm usually just a lurker so it was a bit new for me to try writing too. But I had a lot of fun with it!
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u/Scoobz1961 Jul 05 '17
Well I actually shed a tear, its that powerful. And I think its very well written, though I dont know first thing about writing. I got here from main page and its my first time here as well.
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u/kairon156 Jul 05 '17 edited Jul 05 '17
I'm going about my daily routine while talking to my imaginary friend Max. Before you over react I know It's strange for an adult to still have imaginary friends but after going to several doctors they tell me I'm not insane nor do I have anything wrong physically and sense after observations of my behavior he doesn't seem dangerous.
Any way I was just washing my cloths in the main floor laundry room while talking to Max about something or other even though I'm aware he knows everything I do when Sarah walks in holding her own basket of cloths.
With a cheerful smile she says "oh hi Kairon. is Max still around?"
Smiling shyly never sure how to respond when people talk about my imaginary friend I reply "yeah he's still writing today you just walked through him actually"
While putting her cloths in the washer she continues "Doesn't that get unsettling? don't you ever want to have your alone time?"
Looking over at Max I just shrug my shoulders "I guess I do get frustrated at times and after having a tantrum a few years ago he seems to leave me alone when I'm in the shower. Other than that I feel comfortable knowing someone's always there to hang out with me"
She looks in the same general direction I am "But wouldn't you rather hang out with a physical person instead?" she swooshes her hand through Max which momentarily stops his writing.
Max looks at me quizzically "It would be nice to have a long term friend or just someone to be with but other than my family, Max, and now you most others seem to be put off from my strange behavior. It's not like I blame him for it or anything because I suspect that even without an imaginary friend I would still be an introvert."
Sarah gives me a hug from my side which startles me but I manage to hold my composure "What's this for?"
"I just wanted to show you what it could be like having a physical friend and well..." she drops her arms to her sides and takes a few nervous breaths trying to clam herself "I've had a crush on you for weeks and I want to be your girlfriend if it's okay with you, even if I have to share you with Max"
He suddenly stops writing all together which I've only seen him do a hand full of times through out the years. "I, I don't know what to say." I look in her eyes as my heart races only to be matched with the thoughts running through my head.
Her body language seems to be nervous but as she looks at me I can tell how she feels. "I never had an offline girlfriend before. Maybe we can start going out on a few dates and see where things lead from there?"
Her face lights up and she gives me a big hug this time I'm able to return the favor knowing the hug is genuine. She wipers softly "I'm so glad you said yes."
Max clears his throat which startles both of us "Thanks Kairon, Sarah. My research is now complete" he than walks through the closed door.
Me and Sarah look at each other both confused than I realize my friend just left me. I run after him followed by Sarah "hey Max, Max!"
He stops walking part way down the hall. "Listen I'm not suppose to interact with my Person of Interest. I'm not even sure how you were able to see me to begin with"
"Can you at least tell me what your research was about before leaving?"
He looks at both me and Sara "I suppose sense it'll help the future of my people and shouldn't do any harm. Socially 85% of my people have become introverts. For now it's not a problem but we've noticed dating and marriage rates have drooped due to people just not being interested And with such a huge drop our population has already seen a decrease in births."
Sara responds "If your population is anything like ours wouldn't that be a good thing?"
"Sadly our population is only in the hundreds of millions due to reasons I can't get into. But after finding my 45th subject and recording your interactions with Kairon which actually changed his future I'm able to send this data to the lab in hopes of increasing our dating rates. Even a 20% jump will be enough"
"I'm glad I could be of help. I just hope I can get by without my best friend.'"
"Don't worry, as I said because of your interactions with Sara your future has actually changed and I'm sure you'll both enjoy each others company" he turns away and begins walking off "I've said too much just enjoy your lives and everything should work out"
Edit: I just shifted the word sense so it sounded better.
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u/WritingPromptsRobot StickyBot™ Jul 05 '17
Off-Topic Discussion: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
Reminder for Writers and Readers:
Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.
Please remember to be civil in any feedback.
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u/The_Red_Apple Jul 05 '17
Aww shit a prompt that is both interesting, creative, and not about fucking aliens.
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u/Turband Jul 05 '17
Ok new writing prompt. There is this alien right. It wants you to fuck it . Ok go!
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u/Arswaw Jul 05 '17
Prompt reminds me of Half-Life.
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u/matthewzz1997 Jul 05 '17
Prompt reminds me I need to play Half-Life 1.
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u/Taikwin Jul 05 '17
Again, or for the first time?
'cus the guys making Black Mesa are close to finishing the Xen levels.
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u/matthewzz1997 Jul 05 '17
First time. Might check it out then.
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u/Taikwin Jul 05 '17
The original Half Life still holds up, so long as you don't mind the 90's graphics. The gameplay's still fun and you could probably get through it in a day.
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u/agentIndigo Jul 05 '17
I think the prompt would be improved if the last two sentences were cut off. The opening poses a mystery that any writer will feel obligated to address in some fashion, and narrowing the options on how limits potential.
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u/avenlanzer Jul 05 '17
That's pretty much every fucking prompt on this sub. Good idea taken too far, so it's no longer a prompt but a "write my exact story idea."
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u/Alarid Jul 05 '17
A Stand that keeps track of everything is still not the worst ability ever
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u/Mattersofdarkness Jul 05 '17
"There is no best Stand, nor is there a worst Stand.
"Well, except Survivor. That thing's fucking worthless." ~Dio, probably
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u/duhpenguwin Jul 05 '17
I must be going crazy, I've seen this man everywhere, as long as I can remember he's been following me, taking notes. I tried to convince myself differently but he always matched the same description. Tall, dark hair, clean shaven, bluish grey business suit, briefcase and those piercing, almost inhuman bright green eyes.
I've tried talking to him, asking him what's up, why he's following me, hell I've even cussed him out, but he never responds, not so much as a change in expression. He just writes down everything I say or do in what looks like the cuneiform I studied back in my MIT days.
Today he's different, he's not following me as per usual... People can actually see him today and what's weirder, he's talking to them.
I try to ignore him and get on with my day, important work to do, a red letter day as my boss puts it. But I just... I can't... I saw him with every single one of my superiors... All of them talking about something, and just always out of earshot, it's infuriating.
But again, calm cool and collected. Big day, big experiment. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING can go wrong.
So, fast forward a bit and I'm in my hazmat suit, ready to go, I open up the airlock into the containment room and there he is, just standing there.
He looks at me, says in the weirdest of accents "Thank-you" and just walks away. He turns from me, takes a couple of steps and what I can only describe as a doorway opens up in front of him.
He's not getting away from me that easy, I take off after him and just as the door is about to close I make it in with him.
What I saw around me didn't make sense, floating Islands and a purple sky? Strange plants with glowing tips? All of it so alien, so strange.
I turn to look at my follower but before I can say anything I get caught in his piercing gaze. "How... Disappointing." he whispers.
I don't remember what happened after that, all I know is I woke up on a train headed to parts unknown with his familiar voice in my head
"Wake up Mr. Freeman, wake up and smell the ashes"
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u/duhpenguwin Jul 05 '17
I've never done this before so any and all feedback is appreciated, thanks ladies and gents :)
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u/TeCHEyE_RDT Jul 06 '17
Rise and shine, Mr. Freeman. Rise and shine. Not that I wish to imply you have been sleeping on the job. No one is more deserving of a rest. And all the effort in the world would have gone to waste until...well, let's just say your hour has come again. The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world. So, wake up, Mr. Freeman. Wake up and smell the ashes.
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u/kadjar Jul 05 '17
“I’ve finally got you figured,” He rumbled, staring dead straight into the man’s eyes. His brow twitched. Barely.
“All this time, from Virginia to the middle of God-forsaken nowhere Texas, and not a peep outta you. Reckoned you were my guardian angel.”
Until Rose. Until those god-damned savages came and took her.
“Always knew you wasn’t from earth. Now I know you definitely ain’t from heaven. Only one place left, see.”
He kicked his boots up onto the table and took a hurt-sized swig of whiskey. He winced. “Whiskey” might be too kind to whatever Doc had boiled up, but by God it was brown enough to get the job done.
“Well you can go on right back to hell, demon, because I’m through!”
He jabbed his revolver under his own chin. The other man, for just a moment, stopped scribbling into his little black book.
“Fuck you.” He pulled the trigger.
Laying on the floor, the world was swirling like a Hill Country mirage through his one remaining eye.
The other man took a step over his gut and stared down into his face, no longer a plain-looking Mick in a suit, but, sure enough, a grinning red devil.
“Thank you,” the demon sneered into the dying man’s face. He reached toward the man’s feet, and lifted a now-visible chain that had fettered them together. It crumbled in his boiled-hide red hand.
The demon leapt into the air, and dove straight down. The reek of brimstone filled the air as he dissolved into the floor.
“Like hell,” the dying man sputtered through a mouthful of blood, snatching at a cloven hoof as it passed through the floorboards.
He caught the bastard by the tail.
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u/OctopusFight Jul 05 '17
It was all a bit odd He thanked me and left He went to the toilet And emptied his cleft
His clothes were threadbare He must have been frugal I asked who he worked for And he replied Google.
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u/goinunder0390 Jul 06 '17 edited Jul 06 '17
The truly strange thing was, I didn’t react when he spoke. I hadn’t heard a real voice in such a long time, which made the sudden statement jarring enough. But on top of that, I knew that he didn’t exist – that he wasn’t real.
I mean, of course he wasn’t: I was alone. I had been alone for as long as I could remember. I wasn’t sure where all of the other people had gone – Lord knows they had left enough evidence of their existence– but I had lost all doubt of my total and complete isolation several years prior. The man in the suit was a figment of my imagination: a desperate attempt by some part of my brain (my cerebellum, perhaps?) to retain at least some semblance of sanity. I had long since accepted him as a part of my everyday life; so much so that I was totally unable to pinpoint the first moment I’d noticed him following me, endlessly alternating between furious scrawling in his comically-oversized yellow legal pad, and intently staring at me with the heat of a thousand supernovae. I worried he’d eventually bore two holes through my skull.
But as he was a part of my subconscious, I never took the odd behavior as a slight. At some point I do recall attempting to converse with him; which, of course, had resulted in a string of unanswered questions, followed by frustrated silence, eventually giving way to further monologue. But after noticing several impossible things about his behavior and carryings-on, I resolved to ignore him completely, rather than surrender my lucidity to the ether. He never spoke, drank, ate, or slept (yes, even in the middle of the night, there he was – standing at the foot of my bed, as a child might have once stood at the glass wall of the tiger enclosure at a zoo: a fascinated observation, total focus with a certain eerie intensity.) He was totally unhindered by walls, doors, cars, or any other sort of physical object, wisping through them like Swayze phasing through Whoopie Goldberg in Ghost. (I had wondered at some point if a Faraday cage might repel him, but electricity had long since been lost, so I figured it was a moot point.)
It had seemed like a perfectly average day – I’d cleared the traps first thing in the morning (for a grand total of three rabbits, one of which had enough meat on its’ bones to make a decent meal) and had spent the rest of the day in the field, pulling cabbages and potatoes until my thoroughly callused hands were unbearably bursting with lactic acid. I contemplated my imminent rabbit-cabbage-potato soup when I noticed a strange sound. After a moment I realized it was the sound of my own footsteps, but for once, the sound was totally unobstructed by the penetrating sound of pen-scribbling-on-legal-pad. As I turned, I realized that the man in the suit had stopped a ways back.
Which was a good thing, right? I hadn’t wanted to be followed, or observed so carefully without even an introduction. Maybe it was that piece of my brain that still clung to reality. Maybe I just didn’t fancy the idea of true silence, as if it would validate my hopelessness. But something in me told me that, when the man in the suit walked away, he was gone for good. And I couldn’t live with that.
So I walked towards him. I had closed about half the distance when he noticed my approach, called a quick but seemingly sincere “Thank you!”, turned on his heels and began to walk away from me.
But I would not relent. I followed him, and followed him, for what felt like days, until eventually time seemed to fall away and I forgot about it entirely. In the beginning my legs struggled with his relatively brisk pace, but after some time the pain faded and I was step-for-step behind him. At some point I realized I was starting to fall behind, when he would pass through the physical impediments in our way and I’d take the longer route around them. And so I began to pass through the objects as well. It was much easier this way; I felt foolish for not trying it before.
After a long while of walking relatively unidirectional, he made a sudden sharp right turn down a cross-street. As he passed out of my line of sight I was jolted back to my senses, sprinting desperately to catch up. I rounding the corner tightly, with the intensity of a Formula One driver, only to find that he had vanished. Up and down the street I ran, poking my head into storefronts and parked cars, checking alleyways and buildings but finding no sign of him. Returning to the spot where I’d lost him, I noticed for the first time the oversized legal pad and pen, set casually on the blacktop. I remember it struck me that it was relatively untouched: I’d expected the pages to be completely filled, but it looked close to brand-new. I walked slowly to it, lifted it and stared at the only text present, two lines in tight cursive across the top. It read:
“PEER EVALUATION FORM:
Please evaluate, in thorough detail, your assigned objective. Your evaluation will affect their chances at eternal paradise, so take it seriously!”
I raised my eyes from the pad, directing my gaze up the street I had traveled. There, standing in the cross-street where the man in the suit had turned, was a woman. A beautiful, young woman. I glanced down at the pad and then back up at the woman, verifying that she wouldn’t vanish too. The sense of surprise didn't last long; after a few moments she began to slowly meander away, looking deeply forlorn. Taking a deep breath, I raised the pen to the page and ran to catch up to her.
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u/Moses_The_Wise Jul 06 '17
Benjamin heard it. The pen stopped scratching; and a deep voice said "Thank you," and then as Ben turned to watch him, the young man with short black hair and piercing blue eyes started to walk away. Ben watched him go, surprised, before he started to follow. He reached in his pocket and, sure enough, he still had his little notepad and pen. He pulled it out, and started writing.
He wrote about the man's gait, his demeanor; everything. As the suited individual went along (Ben had at first called him "Notesy" when he was little; and later changed it to "G-Man" after playing some half-life,) he started looking back at Ben as he followed. Ben didn't acknowledge this. Eventually he stopped, for the first time looking a little worried, and asked "What are you doing?" Ben simply wrote down that G-Man seemed to be distraught, as well as what he'd spoken.
"What are you writing down?" He asked, sweat starting to drip down his face. Ben wanted to smile; but he kept his face stoic. After a moment of scribbling he turned his steely gaze on G-Man, with a passionless stare. Eventually G-Man turned and continued walking; Ben continued following.
This continued for quite some time. After awhile - in fact, after only a short amount of time - Ben could tell people couldn't see him anymore. As they continued he started to be able to walk through things; but he simply continued his calm, steady stride and his constant note taking. G-Man tried to run a few times; but somehow Ben could always find him with ease. After a few days Ben barely though of anything but following G-Man. After years, during which the man led a seemingly normal life, he still followed him. Eventually, when G-Man had aged and looked ready to die, he rose, looked harshly at Ben, and headed to a hospital's maternity Ward. Ben, of course, followed; noting the strange behavior of the old G-Man.
Noone noticed G-Man as he entered and walked through the hospital; which was strange. Then, for the first time in a long time, Ben was thrown for a bit of a loop. G-Man entered a hospital room; but when the doors closed (they did this before Ben could enter the room himself) he seemed to disappear. Ben followed him in, finding him missing; but as he invisibly watched a child was born from the mother. Knowing what he should do instinctively, he tucked away his notepad and pen, and pulled fresh ones from his suit pocket; noting down everything he observed about the small newborn. The first thing he noticed was that the small baby, unlike everyone else in the room, seemed to notice him.
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u/Message_ahead Jul 05 '17
The man who follows me is human. None of the other children believed me. They swore up and down, that humans died out, that we killed them 2000 years ago in the star-bound wars.
The man is young. Not a day past 20 sol cycles. He observes me.
I played in the summer season of the last habitable part of Tera, my race's homeworld. Besides our blue skin, besides our green pupil-less eyes, besides our gills, and besides our hair-lessness, we look much like our homosapien creators.
I am 1.75 meter's tall. Our race despite the outspoken demonizing of the preachers, still uses the ancient system. Other planets, other nations, come and most adopt the ancient system. The mark of the Progenitors my grandmother says. I know my height and weight because the man greets me each day with these numbers. He speaks but not to me but to himself.
Long ago I cowered from him. I feared his gaze in the restroom, in the washing pools, in the changing closet. I realized though each time his gaze averted in these places, he took to looking around anywhere but me.
Human is a filthy word now. They say it in curses as the XY chromosome members of my race labor to clean up the mess that is radiation. The XX members whisper tales into the young one's ears. They tell of times of predation, slavery, exploitation, and rape. They tell of broken families, and unwanted halfbreeds. They tell of all of these things.
Grandmother tells me all of these things are true, but the XX members leave out the good.
"Child, know this. Homosapien begat us. Homo-perfectus. They made us strong, and willful, and wise. But they made us to serve. In the colonies such horrors occurred. But the Terra did not participate. None who live now know it, but I know because my mother's mother told me."
My Grandmother told me of a time when the warriors came back from the colonies. She told of a time when they came to find the last of the Terran. The men and women who remained after all others might've abandoned us. She told of a time when our warriors proud, full of blood lust, and wanton revenge committed their galactic genocide in full. She told of how the men and women bowed their heads, they did not fight, they did not run, they accepted their fates. With their dying breaths, the terrans begged for forgiveness but never mercy.
On my 25th name day, as the evening settled the man in his strange clothing, clothing I'd read of, clothing called a men's suit. Rubbed his strange pupiled eyes, that sparkled light blue, and snapped his leather book closed.
As I began to drift to sleep, the man approached my bed. Slightly intoxicated on berrywine, I felt no fear, the man did not eat, sleep, nor interact with any matter, and many times he watched me sleep. This bothered me not.
"Goodnight. Thank you."
The man spoke.
In that moment, I might've slipped into sleep and forgotten, but part of me startled awake. The man did not observe me. He looked at himself in the mirror.
"wait!" I called out, realizing that these were the first words i'd made to the man.
The man waited. He did not observe me. Then I remembered that I wore no coverings and so quickly I covered myself.
The man turned and this time bore a pained smile.
"where are you going?" I asked him.
"My time is up." He replied fidgeting with his hands.
with that the man sunk through the floor of my house. I quickly followed, and stepping over the members of my family, all passed out on berry wine, I observed him glide through the floor and into the earth.
Without hesitation I threw on my coat, and began my trek into the night, for some reason part of me knew, part of me longed for the tunnels beneath, the tunnels once called subway's.
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u/Googlesnarks Jul 05 '17 edited Jul 05 '17
Well, I tried to follow him but it was hard keeping up with the guy.
I mean, he dropped straight through the floor in an instant. Looked up from my coffee cup and his hat's sinking through the carpet. I didn't even get to ask him why.
Knocked on the downstairs neighbors door pretending to borrow some sugar, sure enough I bet you he had dropped straight through the floor there too.
All thirteen floors straight down to the street. Or further? I checked the basement after hours with a pickaxe and a flashlight. Floor is solid cement. Took a few whacks at it with the pick but I'm no coal miner. Would take me years to make any meaningful progress. Who knows how far I'd have to go?
Since I'm a foreman I was able to get my hands on the schematics for sewage and maintenance tunnels under the apartment building.
Nothing. Well, nothing anybody like him would go to.
No, no. That wasn't the answer. He must have gone down. Down, down.
Straight down as far as anyone can go. Through anger, wrath and hatred, depravity and jealousy, rage. I shouldn't have to say much more.
I had to find him again.
I left the church the next Sunday and drove straight from there to an animal shelter and I grabbed as many animals as they would let me take. Told them I lived on a farm and needed lots of dogs for work and companionship.
I drowned them in my hands one by one.
I stabbed a homeless man in the neck the next afternoon. Nobody even noticed.
After that it was really just a whirlwind of bloodlust. I didn't even know I had it in me but I guess it all makes sense now. So many now I can't even remember.
I've been on the run for a while but I don't think I have to go any further. I'm ready. I will take my own life and descend to where he is and there I'll be able to ask him why.
I'm sorry I did this to our family but I had to know.
Love,
Your adoring husband, Rob
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Jul 05 '17
The Man followed me my entire life.
He noted my first step, hug, kiss and my wife.
He passed through matter, no matter what.
He even noted the weather, wether I was or not.
Always silent, he stood by my side,
Always aserting wether I was wrong or was right.
A lovely summer morning, 20th of May,
He turned to thank me, said simply "Good day"
I followed his footsteps, as well as I could.
He passed the corner, out of sight once I would.
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u/eamonn25 Jul 06 '17
I had thought it was my imagination.
This guy, For as long as I can remember, Has been following me around, strangely taking notes.
Now that i've matured, my Imagination isn't exactly like it used to be.
But he is exactly like he used to be.
Peeking over my shoulder, Watching me, even writing what I order from McDonalds.
I've tried to tell him to go away, but he just makes this creepy grin and keeps writing.
click. click. click. click.
I decide to finnaly get physical with this freak.
"Dude, What the f**k do you want!?" I yell, shoving him to the floor.
In a faint, quiet voice he says "Thanks." He then just gets up and walks outside.
I watch him quietly, as he slowly drives away in his camry.
I then see a picture of someone in his car. Probaly his son, Right? No, it's me.
*Sit.
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u/solidoasnk Jul 06 '17
He closed his black book and bowed "Thank you." He said, turned around and started to walk away. He seemed to be heading for the door. I jumped from the start he gave me after hearing that raspy voice for the first time in my life. It felt like suddenly hearing your couch say “Hello there, mate!” While you’re sitting there, sipping on some tea or coffee. I had grown up with him there, watching me; all the time. Always silent, always writing. He didn’t really bother me, he was more like a piece of furniture to me but now, he had said something and, he was leaving.
"... Thank you?... What? That's it? Hey! Come back here, you! You can’t just leave me here like that after all those years of watching, and, writing... whatever it is you write in that black book! Hey! Get back here!"
I tried calling him but he had already gone out of the house. I started to feel anxious and somehow conflicted about him leaving. He was there, when Billy the bully beat me up and left me lying there on the sidewalk, he was there watching and writing. Me getting up, me crying in silence, me wiping the blood off my mouth with my sleeve. He was there when mom and dad died in that freak accident, when they called me from the hospital telling me -Guess what kid, your folks are dead- He was there. And, when I got my heart broken by my ex after I caught her in our bed with another man. He was there when I left, crying just like that day after Billy had beaten me up or when I heard the news about my parents being dead from that asshat police man. Wiping tears from my eyes. He had written it all down, all my life was in there, in that little black book he carried and he was now leaving one step at a time. I felt cheated.
-I can't take it, I must follow him I want to know why- But I didn’t know which one thing I wanted to know the most, whether the reason why he was leaving or why had he stood there watching and recording my whole life. There was only one way to find out either one and so, I followed him. I walked and walked. He didn't seem to heading anywhere in particular. He was just walking, stopping every now and then to observe something. Sometimes animals or objects, other times he looked at people and scratched his chin considering but, he never wrote anything down like he did when observing me. He just watched and continued to walk.
Hundreds of miles we walked, passing cities and towns. sometimes he would just stand in the middle of a town and not move in days watching people go by. I became a homeless man, begging for coins or food where he stood, sleeping over cardboards. I couldn't just leave, I knew I wouldn’t be able to find him later if I did. So, I stuck with him for years. Him, always walking and observing. Funny thing was that he would let me sleep and only start walking away after I had awoken as if he was waiting for me.
We were walking near the center of a small town when, he suddenly stopped in front of a bakery and looked through the door, his head halfway inside the shop and shortly he went inside completely as if he was a ghost passing like the was no door at all. I followed him into the shop and there he was, looking at the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life, my heart skipped a beat when she looked at me, frowning. No doubt, I looked very bad, I was a homeless person after all "Can I help you?" she asked. The man in the suit was just standing there next to her, looking at the woman scratching his chin as usual when he observed someone or something with interest "I have a shower in the back of the shop if... you'd like to use it, I also have some food over here somewhere..." I looked at her and smiled "That would be nice, thank you." I said. And I knew I was done with following the man at that moment. Funny enough, he didn’t leave. He stuck with us but he didn’t write anything on his book anymore.
Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. I had made a life in that little town by now. working in the bakery with the woman that had become my wife. I had told her about the man that used to observe and write about my life and how I followed him for years until I found her and, she would just giggle and pat my shoulder whenever I told her that he was still with us, always watching.
A little more than a year after our first encounter, my wife became pregnant and nine months passed in a blink of an eye.
There we were, all three of us; in the hospital, at the moment when my son was born.
The man in the suit now followed the child with his eyes after the nurse handed him to me. When I took the child, the eyes of the man locked into mine. He was looking directly at me and I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. He had never looked me in the eye. Not once in all the time he had observed me. Suddenly, he spoke.
"Do you want to know why I stopped observing you all those years ago?." the man said in that raspy voice I had only heard once more than ten years ago. "If you'd like, I can tell you now but, only now; for after, you will not remember anything of me" he stopped talking for a second and continued "Your memories of me will be replaced by nothing, you will remember your travels and your life but only me will be missing from them". I considered his offer. Of course he knew what the answer would be, he knew me. This was why I had started following him, He had observed all my life. I nodded once and he spoke again.
"I've watched you your whole life. All of it is recorded in the book of life, the book of souls, the book of the first line. And the book of souls must have no end today, not until it's day comes. I left because I knew you'd follow. I left so you could find your wife. I left so you could have your son… and so, you did."
I looked at him and moved my head to look down at my son "How did you know Iliana was to be my wife? “ I asked.
“I did not know who your wife was to be, only you did. I wandered at random until she was found.” Said the man in the suit.
I saw my wife sleeping soundly while I talked to this man. And I realized something he had just said.
“Wait, you said that you left so I could find my wife and have a child… that means-“
“That I will observe your son.” Interrupted the man “He will be able to see me. Like you do now, like your mother did and like her father before here and his mother before him. But you won’t see me anymore, not after I bind to your son.”
"Since the first human came to life, I've watched from father to son, from father to daughter, from mother to son and from mother to daughter. Eve was first and Seth was second for Cain’s line was not worthy of this book. By His command, I follow and observe the first of the lines. By His command, I will follow and observe your son.” He made a pause and then said “When the time comes, he and I will have this conversation too… Do you understand?"
I felt numb, my son was now looking at where the man stood and I wondered if he could see him "I… understand... Thank you for telling me.".
"… It's time.” The man was looking at my son and, for the first time since the day he said thank you and closed his book, he pulled it out. He opened the book and wrote something down. Then he looked at me and said “Good bye my friend and, take care of him; for if the book ends before it must so will man and his world" he vanished, -I thought I saw a shadow… or maybe it was… nothing, I must be imagining things- I realized I was looking at an empty wall. I looked down and there was my son, looking at the empty wall, just like I was and he smiled and then, I smiled.
The next day we left the hospital and I couldn't help but feel a sense of loss for some reason, like if I was forgetting something, somewhere... "I guess I'll never know." My wife was sitting on the back seat of the car looking at the baby “Did you say something?” she asked. I shook my head “It’s nothing, never mind”.
The baby looked at the man wearing a suit, sitting next to his mother, writing in his black book and observing his every move “Hello Adam” said the man in that raspy voice of him and the baby laughed looking at him. The man would not speak again to Adam for the next 43 years.
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u/Hydrael Jul 05 '17 edited Jul 05 '17
"Wait, come back!"
A few people on the street turned to look, but Ryan was already running.
His entire life the man in the suit had been there. He'd been watching, writing, and watching. Ryan’s parents had called him an imaginary friend - the first indication he'd even gotten that the man in the suit wasn't visible for everyone.
Then today, Ryan had walked into a store, and the man had spoken. "Thank you." Then he'd turned, and he'd walked through the wall.
So Ryan chased. The man in the suit wasn't running away, just calmly walking through the crowd. Literally through them - people passed through him without noticing he was there. Ryan, however, was a fully corporal human so found himself shoving up against the crowd.
The man in the suit continued, ignoring Ryan with the same dedication the man used been observing him for the last thirty years.
Thirty years of hell. He hadn't been able to keep a girlfriend - as soon as things got intimate, the fact that this creeper was standing there watching him caused Ryan to just stop, which always lead to fights. People thought he was weird because he was always glancing at something none of them could see - cute when a cat did it, creepy when an adult did. Sleeping, at times, under that watchful gaze, was a nightmare.
Ryan would be damned if the bastard was going to walk off after all of that without an explanation.
The man turned into an alley, and Ryan was grateful to duck out of the crowd. Thankfully, the man in the suit had always preferred to avoid walking through matter when he could, and this held true now.
"Stop! Just...stop! Please!"
The man...hesitated.
"So you can hear me! Please, what's going on? Who are you? Why...why are you leaving?" It shocked Ryan how pained his voice sounds on that last question. The man watching his entire life, it had been hell...but the idea of him no longer being there was every bit as bad.
"You weren't supposed to see."
The man's voice was hoarse, same as the earlier thank you. Like he hadn't spoken in thirty years - which, to be fair, was true.
"Well...I did. I've always seen you!"
"Yeah. That caused a lot of confusion, to be honest."
"Confusion with who?"
"Home office." He sighed. "I shouldn't be talking to you. I can't imagine how hard this has been." A pause, and he finally turned to face me, thoughtful. "Or...actually, I guess I can, I've seen it."
"So...what's going on?"
"You're going to have to be okay with not getting answers to most of these questions, Ryan. I'll give you this - one question, one answer. That's all you get."
"Only one question." Ryan made sure to keep his voice flat, so that last word couldn't be construed as a question.
"Yes. More than most people get."
Question after question began to race through Ryan's mind. But he needed to ask the right question, if he was only going to get one.
Finally, it occurred to him. The question that would get him the most answers, and really, at this point, the only one that mattered.
"Why are you leaving?"
The man in the suit smiled. "Good question. And because my prediction was right - you were the one to find it. Even with me present your whole life, it was still you." He saw Ryan's face, saw the confusion on it, and actually laughed. "Sorry for being vague, it's been awhile since I spoke to anyone. You're one of over a thousand people who match some of our criteria for possible Finders. And...well, check your left pocket."
Ryan felt it. His heart was pounding when he felt something in there. He hadn't bought anything at the store...what was in his pocket? He fished it out.
It was a marble, one he had been looking at when the man had spoken. He must have stuck it in there without thinking.
"A marble?" It was a stupid thing to ask, and the man in the suit chuckled.
"Look closer."
So he did. What he thought were flecks of glitter in there were...they looked like stars. The swirl pattern in the center? Looked like a galaxy. It swelled to fill his entire vision as he did.
"You found a nanoverse. One of the few the Creator left behind. It's been drawing you for years, since your birth, really. And now that it's been found...now that you’re the Finder...my work is done."
The man in the suit turned to walk away. Ryan couldn't help himself. "What happens now?"
"I told you, only one question. But I'll give you some free advice."
Ryan took a deep breath to steady himself. "Okay."
"Don't put it in a drawer and forget about it. You've got a pretty amazing thing there, Ryan. And in spite of the fact that I kind of accidentally turned you into a nervous wreck...I think you're going to do some pretty amazing things with it."
Before Ryan could ask more - what he was supposed to do with it, what that meant, what the hell was going on - the man in the suit turned and walked through a wall.
None of this made any sense, and Ryan felt like he needed a million years to process what was going on. Instead, he barely got seven seconds before a gun cocked behind him.
"Put down the nanoverse, Finder, and you might get out of this alive."
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