I had put the salad dressing in my now empty fridge and not thought anymore about it. Over the weekend, I had my friends over for a gaming night. My lounge room had cables running all over the floor, the couch was pushed to one end, bean bags brought out and tables set up between them. Four TVs were on top of the tables, filling the living room. Two were pointing towards the couch, two towards the bean bags. My usually empty fridge now was full with drinks. It had been a good night. There was lots of taunts as we played online. The later it got, the emptier my fridge was and the more the taunting became more insulting. One of my friends had gotten up to get himself a drink and had grabbed the salad dressing. No one had even noticed until he had taken a sip then promptly spat it all over the carpet. Everyone else fell about laughing hysterically, after all it was late at night and we’d all had a few drinks. “Why do you even have salad dressing?” The friend asked angrily looking at the bottle, “It’s gone off!” “It’s probably been there since the last time anything green was in the fridge,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. My friend looked at the bottle, seemingly checking for an expiration date. He laughed and said, “Looks like someone made a mistake when doing these,” “What do you mean?” Another friend of mine had asked. “Says this expires in 2018, since when does salad dressing last for two years?” The first friend said. I grabbed the bottle and checked the expiration date. Sure enough, he was right. I took the lid off and sniffed, it certainly smelt off. I frowned, I had only put this in the fridge last weekend; it shouldn’t have gone off. Then I remembered that I actually hadn’t brought it, and how I had got it. My eyes widened and I said, “Salad dressing doesn’t normally go off for like a month or so,” “How do you even know that?” One of my other friends said, staring at his screen. I shrugged on auto pilot; I was still staring at the bottle. Had I somehow gone into the future? That didn’t make sense; all of my episodes seemingly showed me the past. How had I now gone into the future? And more so, how had I brought back a bottle of salad dressing? My friends apparently weren’t as interested as I was in the bottle, but then; they didn’t know how I had got it. For that part, I didn’t even know how I had got it. Maybe it was just a typo, maybe during my episode I had walked off, somehow found the bottle and picked it up. Maybe what happened in my episode was just my brains way of making sense of how I had ended up with it. I decided it was just part of my crazy, that it was a typo and that it was nothing. I got off the couch and went to put it in the bin. One of my friends yelled out something and I turned to look at him and laugh. I was now standing alone in my living room, except it was completely empty. My friends, the T.V’s, everything had gone. Plastic sheets were all over the house and a high table was in the middle of the room. I looked around, the benches were the same, the cupboards, everything. The difference was that there was no fridge or other appliances. It was totally bare. Squeals could be heard coming from a room and, before I could move, the door flew open. I could see a bed frame for a split second before a fat man slowly walked out of the room, sniffing and wiping his nose. He was putting on his belt when he saw me. “Who are you?” He suddenly yelled, looking up and seeing me. Quick as a flash, a girl ran past and made for the door BLAM! Suddenly there was a pistol in the man’s hand, something wet splashed on my face, I flinched. I turned and saw my friends and our set up, like nothing had happened. I touched my face; something red was on my fingers, the colour drained from my face. I rushed to the front door of my apartment and started to rip up the carpet, like a man possessed “Dude! What are you doing?” My friends shouted I didn’t answer. My friends exchanged nervous glances. I stopped, frozen. There was what looked a bullet hole in the wood beneath the carpet. I didn’t go back to the house for days. I stayed with one of my friends. I couldn’t go back. The images of what I had seen haunted my dreams, made even freakier by the fact that I had blood on my face and had found the bullet hole. I had looked into the history of my house and found that a gruesome kidnapping had happened there over the course of a week, the man who was charged with the crime had tried to pin it on an imaginary man who had appeared in the house, then disappeared just as quickly. Authorities had thought he was just trying to go for the insanity plea, but the victim had corroborated his story. They had both ended up in a psychiatric hospital, her because of what he had done to her, him because he had tried to tell police that a salad dressing bottle was proof of his story. I was shaken. Everything I had seen, was exactly what had been reported. I couldn’t make sense of it. That salad bottle had been mine, I was sure of it. I had told my friend about it, but he had just waved it off. “Maybe you just somehow tapped into the memory of what had happened, maybe that’s what happens to you when you have those episodes,” he had said. “Like some kind of psychic?” I had asked. He had just shrugged but didn’t say anything more on the subject. The rest of that night I spent trying to get one of my episodes to happen at will. It didn’t work. I eventually went back to my apartment, once the shock of everything had worn off. I was worried that maybe being back in that place would set off my psychic ability; as it were however, I didn’t have a single episode for a month. Work was the only thing that focused me and made me forget about what I had seen. I was sleeping better; I hadn’t had an episode for a long time. Things were starting to look up. Until they didn’t. After work one Friday night, some of my co-workers were having drinks. I was asked if I wanted to come. This was new to me. Normally, I come to work, do what I need to and then go home. I don’t get invited to things. My own fault, I know. I had gladly accepted the invitation. But within half an hour of being there, I wished I hadn’t. I felt awkward, and no one really spoke to me. I ended up saying goodbye to them all early, and went outside. Almost as if they were avoiding me, there were no cabs around again. I decided to take the train home. The train station was back near work; luckily the pub we had went to was only a short walk from there. As I neared the train station, I could almost feel myself step through something and for the briefest of moments all I saw was an empty field with nothing on it, then the station was back. It was the quickest episode I had ever had, and the after effects put me to the floor. I fell on all fours and projectile vomited over the pavement, then curled into a ball. The pain was incredible! People who were walking by muttered to themselves and avoided me, many saying that I wasba drunk or that I was on drugs, not one came over to see if I was actually ok. I couldn’t blame them; if I saw how I was I would’ve walked away too. After a few minutes, the pain lessened a little bit and I managed to get up and get onto the train. After a few more weeks, and a lot more episodes, I decided to take a vacation. I figured time away would do me some good. I had just got my passport not long ago and had never used it. I decided to leave the country, try and find a new adventure and just have a good time. I spent a whole afternoon at work looking all over the internet, wondering where I wanted to go. Finally I decided on Canada. Mostly because of my fear of flying, at least this way I could drive there, keeping my feet firmly on the ground. I had meant to go alone, to try and rid myself of the necessity of trying to make it fun for someone else, but one of my friends, Chris, decided that he wanted to come too. “I’ve always wanted to go to Canada, why not go with a friend?” he said. In the end I didn’t argue. Having company might have its benefits. Eventually the time came to depart. In the darkness of the wee small hours of the morning both of us, cold and rugged up with many jumpers, loaded up the car and took off. I took the first shift of driving, I was buzzing! I hadn’t been on a holiday in a few years and it was somewhat exciting. It quickly wore off as we made our way north. For most of the trip, Chris and I spoke none stop, laughing and singing songs on the radio, even putting on a CD at one point. We had to stop over at a hotel for a night, but again we got up very early and hit the road. All in all it had been a good trip and by the time we had got to the hotel we were staying in, I was in high spirits. The whole trip I had been feeling good and hadn’t had one episode. It seemed as though my idea to have a vacation was working out well. That night we went out for a drink. Hey, we were on holidays! We ended up talking to two local girls and spent most of the night with them. They took us to some local nightclubs and at some time in the morning, I think it was around 4am, we went back to our hotel. I woke up late the next day, in bed alone, window open and a slight breeze with sunlight coming in. It was very comfortable. I though back on the night before and smiled, this trip was exactly what I needed. Before I knew what was happening, my door was broken open and five or six men came storming in, all of them shouting. Each one was wearing a black helmet with goggles, black combat clothes and had a machine gun pressed to their shoulders. I looked at them all in shock, backing up in my bed and holding the sheets close to me. One of the men lowered his gun and looked at me, his head cocked to one side. Then he yelled, “This isn’t-“ I was sitting up in bed, staring at the door, my room was now empty. Pale day light was filtering into my room through the curtains and I was by myself. I slumped back down and groaned. I had had another episode. I hoped the girls had left before it happened though. I rolled over and looked at the alarm clock that the hotel had provided. It’s red luminous numbers telling me that it was 6:30am. I buried my head into the pillow; I needed more sleep Voices outside made me stare at the window grumpily. Who was up at this time in a hotel? The voices got louder as they got closer till finally they were right outside my window. “- Where he could have gone,” Chris was saying, he was worried. I didn’t take much notice of it, he was probably just talking to his friend from the night before. “Can you be a bit quieter?” I asked grumpily as they came inside, my voice hoarse because of shouting from the night before. “When did you get back here? We’ve just been looking for you for the last half an hour!” Chris said loudly and a bit angrily. “What are you talking about?” I said emerging from the sheets, “I’ve been here all night.” “No, you haven’t,” Ava said standing at the door with Chris. Chris looked at me knowingly and then said, “Ah well, at least you’re back,” He put his arm around his date and with a wink said, “I’m going back to bed,” Ava grabbed her stuff and muttered something about having something on today and left. I rubbed my face in my hands and sighed. After that episode, Chris started to keep an eye on me and didn’t really leave me alone. I understood why, but it was frustrating. I wasn’t some kind of kid that needed to be looked after. We didn’t do much sight-seeing, mainly just hanging out at night and lazing around in the hotel room by day. That suited me fine. I wasn’t one to be walking around or dragged out to see something boring. Most nights, since that first one, I went home alone. Chris on the other hand was like some sort of magnet. Even when he wasn’t trying, girls just seemed to gravitate towards him. He wasn’t particularly handsome, though he wasn’t ugly. He wasn’t rich and he dressed mostly in jeans, converses and a t-shirt. What I thought it was, was when they spoke to him. He had a carelessness about himself and he didn’t seem to be making a move on them. I guess that made them feel safe with him. On the other hand, I knew what my problem was. I was socially awkward. If I was left alone with a girl, I ran out of things to say and we both stood their awkwardly, drinking our drinks until she said she had to go to the toilet or just simply walked off. Chris said that we were on a trip together and he wasn’t going to let me be by myself. After a few days of this, I was seriously wishing he would. One night came around where we both didn’t feel like going out. So instead, we decided we’d go out for dinner then head back to the room and watch a movie. Just have a relaxing night. We headed out to a pizza place, all you can eat. I loved Mexican pizza and ended up just taking the whole pan, which caused me to get angry glares from some of the other patrons. Chris gave me a look and I said, “What? They’ll bring out more!” Within ten minutes they had. “So tell me about these episodes,” Chris said suddenly as he sat back down from getting more pizza. “There isn’t much to tell,” I said quietly, this was the last topic I wanted to talk about. “C’mon man,” Chris said looking at me exasperatedly while chewing some pizza, “I’ve known you for years, you’ve said about having them but you’ve never really talked about them. What are they like?” I didn’t say anything at first. “It’s like you’re hallucinating, but everything seems normal,” I explained. “What do you mean?” “Well you know how I had one the other night?” Chris nodded. “I saw a swat team bust into our room, look at me and then start to talk then the next thing I knew I was alone in the room and you guys were coming back from looking for me,” Chris chewed his pizza a bit more slowly while he looked at me then said, “Are they always like that?” I nodded, “Not always of the same thing, but something always seems to be happening, or there’s some big change,” “Sounds like you’re psychic,” Chris replied. I thought about the salad dressing when he said that and shook my head, “I don’t know what it is” Chris started talking about how similar it was to a medium or psychic, but I stopped listening. He had asked me a question, which I hadn’t heard. I looked at him and said, “I don’t really want to talk about this,” “But why not?” He asked, clearly frustrated, “It’s so interesting!” “Maybe to you, but you’re not the one who has to deal with the after affects, or the things that I’ve seen,” “What stuff have you seen?” Chris asked leaning in. I stood up from the table,” I’m going back to the hotel,” Chris sighed and got up too. I was tailing a little bit behind Chris, rummaging through my pockets looking for my headphones for my IPod. I went to yell out to Chris and see if he had them or had seen them, but I fumbled my IPod and dropped it on the ground. I went to tell Chris to keep going, but the street was completely empty. Before it had just been Chris and I. Now, Chris wasn’t even walking along it. It was a long street so Chris hadn’t walked around a corner and out of my view. I knew what had happened. I turned around to see what was different, but discovered nothing was. I frowned. Was he just hiding from me then? Two people talking interrupted my thoughts and I turned towards them There was Chris and someone walking out of the Pizza place. Had he gone back and ran into this guy? Chris began walking further ahead of the other guy who had started rummaging through his pockets. He had the same clothes on as I did. He then lifted his head, seemingly going to say something to Chris, dropped something, then almost as if someone had deleted him from a picture, he disappeared. I stood slack jawed, not fully comprehending what I had seen. Chris saw me and then looked behind him, “How did you get in front of me?” I didn’t know what to say; I just walked past him and picked up the item that the other guy had dropped. It was my IPod. Chris appeared at my shoulder and looked at what I was holding. “Should put that in your pocket or you’re going to lose it,” I started to shake, I didn’t even feel nauseous. Then something else dawned on me; I had seen myself. I was sure of it, the IPod, the clothes the other guy was wearing; everything pointed to it. But the other guy hadn’t even looked like me, had he? Behind me, Chris looked at his watch and said, ‘Come on Dave, the movie will start soon, it’s already seven!” I looked at my own watch; it said 7:30pm. That didn’t make sense, I was sure I had set my watch to the time that was one my IPod, which was the same as my phone. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked, it said 7:30 too. I checked the IPod, it said 7:00. My head was starting to hurt; I didn’t understand what was going on. “Dude!” Chris said, trying to hurry me up. I turned and started walking again, Chris falling into stride next to me as I caught up to him. He looked at me. “What’s wrong?” “It happened again,” I said quietly, holding my IPod and Phone next to each other. The different times side by side.
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The Music TeacherLike this?” Asked the little girl, turning towards me.
“Close enough.” I answered, sighing as I noticed her bow hold. She had only been playing for a few short weeks, but she was well on her way already. I had always wanted a student like her, and now I finally had one. “Lets try the third line again, your rhythm was off.” I directed, pointing to the troublesome spot. Amy began to play, and as she did, I sank into reverie. Even in these troubled times, music brought joy to the people who needed it. Amy’s own family had been disbanded only a month ago, but she found comfort in her instrument. I beamed as she finished the piece, “Fantastic!” “Thank you Mrs. Kara!” She laughed. Amy looked at me shyly, “Can I show you the song I made up?” After my affirmation, she began. Her eyes closed tightly, and she drew the bow over the strings. The song was sad, and mournful. Tears came to my eyes as I listened. “I’m sorry.” She apologised, when she saw me crying. “Oh, it’s nothing,” I told her, “Your song was beautiful.” She smiled, but her eyes were blurred with tears. Maybe one day her sorrows will be over, and her tallent will be recognised. Until then, it’s up to me to take care of her. I pray I can return her to her family soon. She’s not the only one that I am taking care of. It started with her, but as the war rages, more and more students have come to me. I don’t have much to give them. Yet, they are here all the same. Some of them have come to me broken by the things they have seen, but they are finding healing in the music they play. I don’t know how many more years I will teach these little ones for, but I will not abandon them. The Incredible Memories of Calendar GreenMy name is Calendar Green. I’ve had this name for centuries. Normally, when people return to the Living, they have a new name, and their old name is written in their book, along with every memory they ever created in their previous lives. But that’s not the way it has worked with me. Maybe I should back up and explain how this works.
Every person has a book. In their books, there are all of the memories from their previous lives. These books are extremely private, no one is allowed to look at anyone else’s books. I didn’t understand why until my book was stolen… I guess it’s my fault. I should have protected my memories. My memories, above everything elseshould have been kept safe. But nowadays, people have grown careless, comfortable. Now I fear for what could happen. You see, over the many lifetimes, I’ve been a mechanical engineer, architect, scientist, designer, etc. But my memories are dangerous. My lifetimes work differently from everyone else’s. Instead returning to the Living as time advances, My lifetimes work backwards. I was originally from the future, but with each lifetime, I come back earlier, before the time I was originally born. That’s why my memories are dangerous. I have lived through the future, and this time period is not ready for the things I know, the things I’ve seen. But now my book has been stolen, and for what reasons I have yet to find out. But I know, if those memories get into the wrong hands… -ShadowDragon Most people have secrets.
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