Ancient History Now

How long has this town of ours been abandoned? All I ever see these days are rusted railroad tracks bent out of shape, curled back at me, almost taunting any misfortune I may have.

When was the last time I saw the sky? The real sky, not this artificial stuff that’s so gray. It has no emotion. If people here knew how to kill themselves, I think they would.

But right now that’s not important. I don’t know what I did, but I did something to piss this guy off. This guy I don’t even know. Just standing there, yelling at me, constantly having to re-adjust his glasses so that they won’t fall off his ever-changing expression.

He then abruptly walks off, hoping I learned my lesson. Sadly for him though, I couldn’t understand a word he said to me. It was as though he was yelling at me from behind soundproof glass. A timer then appears in my field of vision, to the upper-right. It’s telling me I have one week left. One week left for what though?

I decide that I’ve had enough of this. I walk towards my left, and find myself in my house. Its pitch black, aside from the t.v that’s on. I’m with two of my friends, both girls. I really like the first one, she seems a lot nicer than the other one. She’s laying down on my floor (along with me and her friend), laughing at this Godawful movie that we’re watching. Her hair is a wild mixture of blonde and red. Dark red.

Her friend though, keeps changing color. Her hair, her clothes, her skin. She jumps from purple, to orange, to red, to blue, to green, all in the span of five seconds. I jump to the conclusion that I don’t like this person, but I put up with her because I like her friend. She doesn’t make a sound. Doesn’t even move. She must be asleep or something. Oh good, this movie is almost over now.


What the hell? How did I get here? An office lobby, filled with police officers, three of them keeping a firm grip on me. There’s a small family here, giving me dirty looks. Apparently, I killed that man who quietly yelled at me. Strange, I have no memory of my act, nor would I know why I would do such a thing. All I know is that I’m being led into a room with a blinding light escaping the outside edges, despite the fact there is no actual door there.

I take a seat on this large, black couch. It’s so large I have to actually jump up in order to get on it. There are three men in small black chairs across from me, crying either to themselves, or leaning on one another. My God, these men are here to die! I realize this too late as I feel the needle poke through my wrist, straight into the closest vein. As I feel the life draining out of my body and into the needle, I realize why I couldn’t hear the man yell at me: He was a ghost. He was only haunting me for what I did to him.

I truly am a horrible person. Before my vision becomes completely black, the person holding the needle asks me if I could come in next week.

I tell him that I will.

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