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The Ongoing Story: Part II

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The Ongoing Story: Part II

“Inside” Collage by Jolie Bryant

“Inside” Collage by Jolie Bryant

“Inside” Collage by Jolie Bryant

“Inside” Collage by Jolie Bryant

Jack Waguespack, News Editor

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Here’s the second installment of our fiction series, featuring a different writer every week! Follow along to see where the story takes us…

“Welcome back” echoes in the room, vibrating the bare walls. I look to my left and see the slightest glimpse of a fleeting light. I can’t make out where its coming from, but it gives me shivers all over my cold, sweaty body. I remember this place, but only from my dreams. I remember the feelings of eyes constantly watching me and the faint smell of metal wafting in the air. But I always woke up right when I entered the room; I was never allowed past that point, as if my brain was trying to protect me. I walk closer in the shadows of the light and hope it allows me to see what, or who, is in this room with me.

I blindly reach my hand into the light and a piercing burn comes with it. Ash covers my whole arm, and I quickly try to brush it off with the back of my pant leg. The ash covers both of my legs and it continues to cover my whole body. I start to panic, flailing and hoping to hold onto something in the room. My hand catches onto something but it feels too warm to be a table or chair; it’s a hand. Whoever it is, pulls me into the light and suddenly all the ash is gone and my body is ridden of any imperfections. I look to the hand holding onto me and find the face of its owner, my father. He tells me “Welcome back,” but he never opens his mouth. I try to open my mouth to ask him where we are, but words never come out. He looks at me as though he knows what I’m thinking and bursts out into laughter, still with his mouth shut. It’s then that I realize why I can’t make any words leave my mouth: we’re speaking through our thoughts.

He tells me we’re in middle land of reality and dreams, where nothing can hurt you unless you let it. I begin to panic even more and start pinching myself, hoping it’ll wake me up from whatever kind of sleep I am in. He warns me to not try to leave or show that I’m scared or else my nightmares will appear. Before I can question what he says, he disappears along with the only light that was in the room. I scramble to find a lightswitch or some kind of door, all the while trying to follow my dads advice. I have no clue why he is here or what exactly this place is, but my only concern is finding a way out. I trace my fingers along the wall for what feels like forever until I finally find a switch. Hesitant to flip it, I take a deep breath and hope for the best.

I flip the switch, and the dark room is filled with freezing cold air. After about five seconds, the lights start to turn on one by one. It takes my eyes a second to adjust, but I can finally see what the room is filled with: hundreds and hundreds of mirrors. I’m taken aback by the small, feeble body looking back at me in the reflection. It doesn’t even resemble me in the slightest, yet I feel such a strong connection with the image in front of me. It’s as if I’m looking at myself in the future, and that’s the scariest part. What is to come?

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About the Writer
Jack Waguespack, News Editor

Jack does MMA. He's the best.

Contact: [email protected]

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The Ongoing Story: Part II