Chapter 3
Pt. 2
"There is nothing left of me here, I am Francis, goodnight." Francis plummeted from a high perch, far too high to survive, and yet there he stood, three hundred feet from where he started, standing on his own two feet without a scratch. This did not come as too much of a surprise to Francis however, as he had not eaten or drank a single thing in four days, and was not hungry in the slightest, and only drank to parch his ever drying mouth.
"I'm never going to die am I?" Francis blankly asked.
"No" something answered.
"Aren't I glad you've finally decided to talk to me" Francis scoffed out loud. He finally decided to speak his mind a few years ago as he remembered there was no one there to call him insane.
"Having a good time in there? Killing everyone on earth, and letting me roam the earth with no purpose and no end?" He shouted with pure fury, but with doubt, as when one does when speaking to inanimate objects. No one answered, as he thought would be the case, but Francis felt as if someone was eerily smiling from some shadow at him. Smiling at a puppet that was created for something Francis could never comprehend. Was he a shell for an incubating host, or simply a vessel for some force that Francis could only call a demon?
Soon, Francis realized that there was no voices in his head, as in there was no one speaking. Instead, apparently there were just pictures running through his head, mostly memories flashing though his brain to get a point across. When the mysterious being finally informed Francis of his inevitable immortality, there were no actual words, just a flood of pictures and memories, reliving times and images of nothing stopping and nothing being stopped.
Francis was now breaking every moment that he could remember in his life frame by frame. Laughing and crying through the haziness of his childhood, watching and reliving as a passive observer. Francis began seeing himself as a god that was watching his followers from a holy perspective. Nothing but endless amounts of time to relive every memory, as there were no new memories to make, just wandering a plagued earth.
Time and time had passed, Francis began to replay new scenarios in his head. New frame by frame recaps of his entire life, representing what he wished had happened, and not what actually had. Soon, after endless time dreaming of this new life he had created, with thousands of stories and new plot twists, Francis had begun to forget what was real and what was imagined.
"Was I really a boy genius who was chosen for a space expedition?" his mind began to panic.
"Was my father a quantum physicist who taught me all I knew? Or was I just a child prodigy who father sold all of his possessions to send me to the best schools, only to be rewarded vastly by the fame and fortune of my discoveries and trip to outer space?" The answers in his head had been completely blurred, and there was nothing that he could reference.
"Is this truly madness?" He asked himself, or at least he thought he asked himself.
Francis was troubled and began wondering to himself why he did not warn everyone that they were all going to die. He replayed every moment in his head after he had gotten the "virus". Warning the public, this was no help at all, as he had infected the atmosphere upon his arrival to Earth. He thought to warn his crew so they could work on a cure for the disease that had killed everyone on earth, before they even arrived back home. However none of the dreams and prayers of Francis could ever turn out with the outcome positive. All the dreams ended with Francis waking in a cold sweat, still surrounded by an empty earth.
"I need some air" Francis spoke for the first time in an immeasurable amount of time. So he walked out of the house he had been staying in, even though he did not need a bed, or sleep at all, but still clinging to things he thought would keep him human, and he saw what he had thought he had lost forever.
"Change" Francis muttered. The street was much different than when he last left his house.
"This is not how I left it" He finally piped up a little louder, as if he thought someone could hear him, an invisible someone who he assumed changed the street.
Instead of pandemonium in the streets, from when the press had leaked that the entire Young Adventure Team had died of a mysterious illness, as well as every scientist around them. He saw nothing but a life that had once been, and then stopped. Suddenly stopped without warning. Had his dream of warning his crew mates changed the present? Did the disease leak out without anyone knowing? Did everyone just go about their day until the disease strangled the life out of all of them?
Could it be that Francis could now control time? Could he use his thoughts to alter the events that had taken place uncounted years ago? He rushed back into his room to gather his thoughts.
"Could this be? Have I changed the past, or have I just forgotten the past?" He shouted, half at the "voice" in his head, and half at himself. Francis began thinking about what would've happened to the world had he told everyone on the ship about the disease years before they even arrived on earth. This created a new scenario that had the Young Adventure Team's craft orbiting the earth while a cure was being created for the disease. One by one, the team died, and eventually crashed the space ship. The crash caused Francis's disease to spread across the world, creating pandemonium and violence across the world.
He stepped out and found the entire neighborhood in complete shambles. Much worse than the original scenario, he had thought. However, Francis began to doubt his memories, as they seemingly could be altered at any time.
Francis thought up a plan, a plan that would save the world from tragedy, but in turn create one for the entire crew, and his family. Francis lied down and began to think of what had happened the day that he was "infected" by the virus. He remembered floating through outer space, as if he was kelp suspended in the sea, waiting for a whale to eat it up. He remembered the exact document he was studying, and exactly what the dusty mass had looked like when the shipped floated through.
Then Francis began to remember things that hadn't originally being there. He remembered a gun in his hand, loaded with bullets. He remembered looking back on all of his fondest memories with his friends, and the adventure team. The best times of his entire life. Then he remembered writing a short note to his friends and family, and pulling the trigger. Francis remembered ending his own life, and then there was nothing.
---
"Francis Edwards, was our dear friend and comrade during this mission and he will be wonderfully missed by everyone here. May he find his true calling in the next life" Were the last words said by the Pale man before the ashes of Francis were left to drift in the vast void of space.......
"There is nothing left of me here, I am Francis, goodnight." Francis plummeted from a high perch, far too high to survive, and yet there he stood, three hundred feet from where he started, standing on his own two feet without a scratch. This did not come as too much of a surprise to Francis however, as he had not eaten or drank a single thing in four days, and was not hungry in the slightest, and only drank to parch his ever drying mouth.
"I'm never going to die am I?" Francis blankly asked.
"No" something answered.
"Aren't I glad you've finally decided to talk to me" Francis scoffed out loud. He finally decided to speak his mind a few years ago as he remembered there was no one there to call him insane.
"Having a good time in there? Killing everyone on earth, and letting me roam the earth with no purpose and no end?" He shouted with pure fury, but with doubt, as when one does when speaking to inanimate objects. No one answered, as he thought would be the case, but Francis felt as if someone was eerily smiling from some shadow at him. Smiling at a puppet that was created for something Francis could never comprehend. Was he a shell for an incubating host, or simply a vessel for some force that Francis could only call a demon?
Soon, Francis realized that there was no voices in his head, as in there was no one speaking. Instead, apparently there were just pictures running through his head, mostly memories flashing though his brain to get a point across. When the mysterious being finally informed Francis of his inevitable immortality, there were no actual words, just a flood of pictures and memories, reliving times and images of nothing stopping and nothing being stopped.
Francis was now breaking every moment that he could remember in his life frame by frame. Laughing and crying through the haziness of his childhood, watching and reliving as a passive observer. Francis began seeing himself as a god that was watching his followers from a holy perspective. Nothing but endless amounts of time to relive every memory, as there were no new memories to make, just wandering a plagued earth.
Time and time had passed, Francis began to replay new scenarios in his head. New frame by frame recaps of his entire life, representing what he wished had happened, and not what actually had. Soon, after endless time dreaming of this new life he had created, with thousands of stories and new plot twists, Francis had begun to forget what was real and what was imagined.
"Was I really a boy genius who was chosen for a space expedition?" his mind began to panic.
"Was my father a quantum physicist who taught me all I knew? Or was I just a child prodigy who father sold all of his possessions to send me to the best schools, only to be rewarded vastly by the fame and fortune of my discoveries and trip to outer space?" The answers in his head had been completely blurred, and there was nothing that he could reference.
"Is this truly madness?" He asked himself, or at least he thought he asked himself.
Francis was troubled and began wondering to himself why he did not warn everyone that they were all going to die. He replayed every moment in his head after he had gotten the "virus". Warning the public, this was no help at all, as he had infected the atmosphere upon his arrival to Earth. He thought to warn his crew so they could work on a cure for the disease that had killed everyone on earth, before they even arrived back home. However none of the dreams and prayers of Francis could ever turn out with the outcome positive. All the dreams ended with Francis waking in a cold sweat, still surrounded by an empty earth.
"I need some air" Francis spoke for the first time in an immeasurable amount of time. So he walked out of the house he had been staying in, even though he did not need a bed, or sleep at all, but still clinging to things he thought would keep him human, and he saw what he had thought he had lost forever.
"Change" Francis muttered. The street was much different than when he last left his house.
"This is not how I left it" He finally piped up a little louder, as if he thought someone could hear him, an invisible someone who he assumed changed the street.
Instead of pandemonium in the streets, from when the press had leaked that the entire Young Adventure Team had died of a mysterious illness, as well as every scientist around them. He saw nothing but a life that had once been, and then stopped. Suddenly stopped without warning. Had his dream of warning his crew mates changed the present? Did the disease leak out without anyone knowing? Did everyone just go about their day until the disease strangled the life out of all of them?
Could it be that Francis could now control time? Could he use his thoughts to alter the events that had taken place uncounted years ago? He rushed back into his room to gather his thoughts.
"Could this be? Have I changed the past, or have I just forgotten the past?" He shouted, half at the "voice" in his head, and half at himself. Francis began thinking about what would've happened to the world had he told everyone on the ship about the disease years before they even arrived on earth. This created a new scenario that had the Young Adventure Team's craft orbiting the earth while a cure was being created for the disease. One by one, the team died, and eventually crashed the space ship. The crash caused Francis's disease to spread across the world, creating pandemonium and violence across the world.
He stepped out and found the entire neighborhood in complete shambles. Much worse than the original scenario, he had thought. However, Francis began to doubt his memories, as they seemingly could be altered at any time.
Francis thought up a plan, a plan that would save the world from tragedy, but in turn create one for the entire crew, and his family. Francis lied down and began to think of what had happened the day that he was "infected" by the virus. He remembered floating through outer space, as if he was kelp suspended in the sea, waiting for a whale to eat it up. He remembered the exact document he was studying, and exactly what the dusty mass had looked like when the shipped floated through.
Then Francis began to remember things that hadn't originally being there. He remembered a gun in his hand, loaded with bullets. He remembered looking back on all of his fondest memories with his friends, and the adventure team. The best times of his entire life. Then he remembered writing a short note to his friends and family, and pulling the trigger. Francis remembered ending his own life, and then there was nothing.
---
"Francis Edwards, was our dear friend and comrade during this mission and he will be wonderfully missed by everyone here. May he find his true calling in the next life" Were the last words said by the Pale man before the ashes of Francis were left to drift in the vast void of space.......
posted by Jaron aka Bananatree at 3:03 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home