The beginning

My eyes snapped open as if someone had dumped cold water on me. I immediately felt different, like there was something in the room with me that I couldn't describe. But I didn't have time to dwell on that, because as soon as I looked around, I realized I wasn't in my own room. In fact, I didn't recognize this place at all.

The room was white, sterile, and devoid of any personal touches. It was like a hospital room, but there were no windows or doors that I could see. Panic set in as I tried to piece together what had happened to me. Had I been kidnapped? Had I been in an accident? My mind raced with possibilities, but I couldn't make sense of anything.

I tried to stand up, but my legs gave out from under me and I fell back down. Panic set in as I struggled to catch my breath. My mind raced with all the possibilities of what could have happened to me: had I been kidnapped? Had someone stolen my organs? The thought of it made my heart race faster.

As I looked around the room, I noticed a small, glass sphere sitting on a table nearby. It was no bigger than a snow globe, but there was something about it that drew me in. The sphere seemed to be reaching out to me, beckoning me to touch it. I felt strangely calm as I took step after step towards it.

Whispers filled the room, some excited, some scared, and some angry. But the loudest voice, by far, was the one that chilled me to the bone. It was a voice I could only describe as apathetic, whispering to me, "Come closer." Against my better judgement, I continued to move towards the orb until I stood face-to-face with it.

As I peered into the sphere, I saw my own reflection staring back at me. But there was something off about it, like a distortion in a funhouse mirror and I could help but lay my hands upon it .

I woke up in my own bed, gasping for air. My heart was racing and my hands were trembling. I reached for my phone to check the time and saw that it was April 1st, 2013. I scoffed at myself for being so frightened by a nightmare. It wasn't the first time I'd had a bad dream, and it wouldn't be the last

I stumbled into the bathroom, still shaken from the nightmare. As I peered into the mirror, I half-expected to see a different face staring back at me. But there I was, the same old me with my brown hair, brown eyes, and that stubborn dimple under my left eye that I inherited from my dad. It was a small comfort to see my own face, but it also reminded me of what I had lost. I turned on the shower, hoping the cold water would help wash away the lingering sense of dread that clung to me. But even after the water had turned icy, the unease remained.

Top of Form

I woke up feeling unsettled from the nightmare, and hoped that making breakfast would calm my nerves. I cooked myself some eggs and toast and poured a glass of orange juice. As I set the table for two, I couldn't help but hope that my mother would join me. Ever since my father passed away, she had been distant and cold, and I missed the way things used to be between us.

Memories flooded my mind as I reminisced about my father. He used to come into the kitchen every morning and ask me what I had planned for the day, telling me his corny mantras that I secretly loved. I couldn't help but feel envious of his easy charm and charisma, which I lacked. A small voice in my head whispered, "unlike me," but I pushed it aside. My father was a hero, a police officer who always did what was right, even if it meant risking his life.

But now he was gone, leaving my mother a widow and me an orphan. I couldn't help but think about the sacrifice he made for strangers who wouldn't give a second thought about his family. The only thing we got in return was me getting transferred to a better school and my mother getting a desk job. It was all part of the package deal that came with being the family of a fallen hero.

As I finished my breakfast and walked to the doorstep, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of longing for my father. With a heavy heart, I stepped out of my house and made my way towards the school bus. The loud honk of the bus brought me back to reality, and I quickly made my way inside, taking my usual spot at the front next to the teacher. Unlike my old school bus, this one was clean and modern, with buttons to lower the windows instead of the worn-out leather straps that always seemed to come loose.

As I settled into my seat, I couldn't help but think about how different everything was now that my father was gone. He used to drive me to school every day and we would talk about everything from school to life in general. But now, those car rides felt like a distant memory.

I looked out the window and watched as the familiar streets passed by, but they seemed different somehow. Perhaps it was because my father wasn't there to share in the experience with me. A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard to keep from crying.

But then I remembered something my father had always told me: "Life is full of challenges, but it's up to us to make the best of them." Those words gave me strength, and I sat up a little straighter in my seat.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I could still make the best of the situation. I could honor my father's memory by working hard, being kind to others, and never giving up. With a newfound sense of determination, I looked forward to the day ahead, ready to face whatever challenges came my way.

Funny how the challenges we prepare our selves for are seldom the ones we face. I stood before Maximilian Walters, who lay on the ground, writhing in pain, after receiving a punch to the gut. He was the epitome of a stereotypical bully, always trying to prove his superiority and laughing at anyone who didn't meet his standards. Max, as his friends called him, came from a wealthy family, but his upbringing seemed to have failed him in some areas, making him a cruel person.

Max looked up at me with rage in his eyes and bellowed, "Do you know who I am? Do you know who my father is?"

I kicked him again, feeling guilty about the satisfaction it brought me. But I couldn't hold back. Max deserved every ounce of pain he was receiving. He put my friend Kate in a locker, gave her the worst case of trust issues, and ruined her life. He deserved the beating he was getting.

"You got what you deserved," I told him, panting heavily. "You make me sick, and you make me hate people like you."

Max seethed with rage and promised to make me pay. "You'll regret this. Just wait until I get out of here, I'm going to ruin your life. You and that whore of a friend of yours will pay for this."

I couldn't let him get away with it. I walked back towards him and beat him mercilessly. As I hit him, I could hear him screaming in pain, but I didn't care. He deserved every blow.

Before I could deal any more damage, I stopped myself. "You're not worth it," I said before I walked out of the restroom.

As I walked away, Max yelled after me, "I'll get you, you hear me? You'll pay for this!"

I didn't respond. I had done what needed to be done. Max had crossed the line, and he had to pay for his actions. I may have acted out of anger, but I knew I had done the right thing

My dear friend Kate was his target, and he hit her where it hurt the most - her weight. He would always call her "Pigglykate", as if her very existence was an affront to him.

To everyone's surprise, Kate transformed herself in just five months, from someone who looked like she ate a cow for dinner every day to a runway model. But Max's bullying didn't end there. Instead, it twisted into something even more sinister - flirting.

Kate, being the kind soul that she is, forgave Max, thinking that he had changed. But he hadn't. He only wanted to take advantage of her, and things only got worse from there.

Kate became the school pariah, and she couldn't even eat in the cafeteria for fear of Max's girlfriend Madeline and her gang of followers. But what did Kate do wrong? Nothing. She only avoided them, and still, they made her life a living hell.

I tried to talk to the teachers about it, but they turned a blind eye, unwilling to see the truth. They were afraid to act against Max, whose mother was one of the school's biggest supporters. Fear had taken hold of them, and they refused to help.

But then I found Kate in a locker weeping , and I knew that I had to act. She wished it could all end, and I couldn't let her suffer anymore. I didn't care about the consequences. I was ready to take on Max, to give him the beating that he deserved.

Because when someone is causing you trouble, you don't just cut off their branches. You cut them down. I can already feel my fathers disappointment but I don't regret what I did .

As I crossed the threshold into my home, my heart plummeted like a stone at the sight of my mother's empty house. The absence of her loving presence was a constant ache in my chest, a gnawing emptiness that threatened to swallow me whole. Her cold, distant demeanor always left me feeling as though I was invisible, unwanted, and utterly alone.

Despite the weight of her neglect, I longed for the warmth of her embrace, the reassurance of her love. But the longing was always met with disappointment, a reminder that my mother was never present when I needed her most.

I trudged towards the kitchen, hoping to distract myself with a nice meal, when the TV caught my eye. I turned it on and was greeted by the sight of a blonde reporter, who immediately caught my attention with her urgent tone.

"We have breaking news," she said, her voice trembling with fear "A giant red portal has opened up above the city of New York, emitting waves that have left experts puzzled. We don't yet know whether they're radioactive or hazardous, but we're urging the people of New York to remain calm and head underground to the nearest subway or shelter."

I felt a chill run down my spine as she spoke, my mind racing with questions. What was happening? Was this some kind of attack? How long had the portal been open? My heart pounding in my chest, I listened intently as the reporter continued.

"While no damage has been reported, we cannot anticipate what will happen next," she warned, her eyes wide with fear. "Stay tuned for further updates."

I stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to tear my eyes away from the screen. The world seemed to be spinning out of control, and I couldn't shake the sense of impending doom that was weighing on me

The sound of the news reporter's voice faded away as I fixated on the Door. But why did I think of it as a Door? Before I could ponder any further, a familiar voice echoed in my mind. It was the same apathetic voice that had been haunting my nightmares for so long. I gave it a name - Apathy. It called out to me, and for the first time, I heard it while I was awake.

But this was no ordinary voice. It was a feeling, an indescribable burst of emotions that I couldn't comprehend. It was like a four-dimensional letter, conveying all the words, letters, and feelings in one go. It told me that "We are here, you are chosen, you are weak, Symbiosis, Ascension, Pity, Rage, become, chosen, we meet you, you are few, you understand."

The intensity of it all gave me a headache so severe that it made a killer migraine look like a Sunday morning brain freeze. I yelled and struggled as tendrils of eldritch strings connected to me to my very soul, changing me in ways I couldn't fathom. And then, I saw a vision of an ocean of darkness, filled with symbols and diagrams each inside a hollow sphere. Each sphere was different, special in its way. They looked at me - some happy, some angry, some utterly uncaring.

But there was one sphere that stood out from the rest. It wasn't in the middle - if such a thing existed in this strange black space where there was no up, down, left, or right. It wasn't just alive; it was conscious. And it spoke to me, in that same indescribable voice - "Connection" I felt its tentacles made of a kaleidoscope of colors reaching into my very being and connecting with me , but this time with the usuall apathy came a hint of satisfaction , that just made me more nervous .

Just as it started it ended like it was all just another nightmare but as I looked around my kitchen, something was off. It was like a veil had been lifted, and I was seeing the world through new eyes it was as if I was elsewhere but at the same time I wasn't I could see more but I felt like I could see different it was strange and for whatever reason this didn't scare me but despite this newfound sense of awareness, my mind kept going back to one thing: my mother.

Where was she? Why wasn't she here with me? Had she been taken by whatever had caused the strange portal in the sky? I felt a knot form in my stomach, and a wave of panic washed over me. She is probably okay no one in New York seemed to have suffered from the event, but fear got a hold of me.

My mind raced with questions, and I felt a new sense of desperation take hold of me. I had to find her, had to know that she was okay. But where to start? I didn't even know where to begin looking.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought of all the worst-case scenarios. What if she was hurt, or worse? I couldn't bear the thought of losing her. Even if she was cold as an ice cube she was the only family I had left in this world.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. I had to stay focused, had to think logically. But it was hard when my heart was pounding in my chest, and my emotions were in turmoil.

All I knew was that my first priority was to find my mother , I could worry about the strange and freaky eldritch tentacles and strange senses later .