Hello, there. I am so very glad you have decided to read this. My name at this moment is meaningless. So I save myself the effort of writting it down for you. If you are wondering why the date above is just a set of exes, it's because for me, time as well is meaningless.

    What is that you say? Yes. You read right. Meaningless.

    I know what you must be thinking. I am pretty sure it's something like "Time waits for no one" or "Time is money" or "Time is irreplaceable". But that is where you're wrong. Time is a factor that it can, infact, be manipulated. It fills me with ecstasy just remembering. I shall let you know that once you get a hold of time, you'll never want to let it go. The possibilities are endless. You feel like the world is in your hands. The power feels like a current rushing through your veins like the warm, thick blood in its place. And for one minute, or rather, all the ones you want, everything seems right.

    But deep down... it's not.



    It all began the day I died. Or rather, the day after, or the day before. I will never know for sure. But if I'm certain of something, it's that I died.

    Let me tell you a bit about myself. I always considered myself a lucky guy. They say good things happen for a reason but I couldn't believe it. I never did anything in particular yet good things happened to me all the time. Things like finding a five dollar bill on a hot day near a smoothie shop or being the lucky 150th caller of the day and winning tickets to see Neon Trees performing live. Things like these were a normal stuff during my day. I'd wake up care-free and refreshed because I knew that everyday would be a good day, nonetheless. The only off thing about it all was that, every night, I always dreamt the same dream... or nightmare (I never knew what to call it). Only a few things changed from time to time but still the same dream. I always considered it like a price to pay for all my good fortune. After all, nothing bad ever happened... and it wasn't particularly bad. It was just... odd.

    I'd go to sleep every night and lay down on the right side of my bed, which is the one where the wall is because at some point during my dream, I always startle and jump up and land on the left side. That usually happened by dawn. In my dream, there was a cat. She was white with a huge black spot on her right eye and on all of her four paws. And she had these strange eyes. The one with the spot was grey and the other one was blue like the sky. And the cat would be seating on my window edge, looking at me straight in the eye. First it'd blink, then move its tail, and then it'd open its mouth and meow loudly. After that, I felt compelled to give her thanks. The need to say it was like breathing. But in some part of me, I asked myself "Why on Earth would I ever give thanks to a cat?" I limited myself from saying it, because it was just absurd. Me, talking to a cat? Please. But the bitter urge to speak those words would tear me inside, like a bad, terrible guilt. Still, I kept quiet. My eyes would grow wide and I'd tightened my lips shut, denying, refusing to say it. I would not give in. And I held it. And I held it. And she just kept looking at me, with those vexed eyes, seating on my window, patiently waiting for me to say it. Sometimes, I'd see a faint smile on her face. Sometimes, she'd lick her paw while waiting. Then, after holding it and holding it, I'd give in. Like when you are holding your breath and finally decide to let it go, you sort of burst it out. Well, just like that, I'd yell THANK YOU! This is usually the part I startle and end up on the left side of my bed, and ocasionally the floor. And she'd just nodd and jump off my window sill.

    So that was the only "weird" thing out of everything else. And I could handle it. It wasn't a big deal. Just a dream of a silly old cat and me. But something happened the week after I turned fourteen. My birthday landed on a tuesday. I woke up on the left side of my bed. I got up. My mom had made my favorite breakfast and gave me some extra cash for the day. Told me we'd celebrate it properly when I got home from school. I smiled. I thanked her and walked out. Fourteen years and nothing wrong. I was actually starting to contemplate the possibility of me being the happiest person in the world. And perhaps, I spoke too soon.

    That day was terrible. Probably the worst. I lost the money my mom gave me. I got a pop quiz in History and I practically handed it blank. I was stuck in line in the cafeteria for so long that the bell rang when it was finally my turn. At last a good thing happened, and I found a dollar so I went to buy a soda but the machine ate it. I went to drink some water and ended up spraying myself. After that, there was a massive downpour so we couldn't go outside for gym. I got owned in dodgeball that day.

    I couldn't wait for the bell to ring marking an end for today. I just wanted to go home and enjoy whatever was left of my birthday. When I stepped out of the shower, I realized it was still pouring outside. Normally on a rainy day, students could wait it out on the library but not today. The library had been closed for maintainance two days before. So I had no choice but to walk home. I took a deep breath and ventured off.

    After that, it all just went from bad to worst. Only one thing changed for the better: I never saw that stubborn old cat again.

    * * *

    I woke up like all the other mornings so far that week: late. No matter how many times I checked and re-checked my alarm clock, it never rang on time. I rushed into the bathroom. Clearly today wasn't going to be my day either. I got dressed while brushing my teeth and combing my hair at the same time. "What a mess!" I thought. I rushed down the stairs, grabbed my stuff, and ran out the door. I opened the gate, got out, and closed it again. "BYE, MOM!" I yelled. I sprinted across yards, hoping to make it in time for the bus. I could barely just make out the faint symbol of the bus stop sign two blocks away. I chuckled in victory but my gaze was caught by something or someone who hid instantly behind a nearby tree. "Huh?" I squinted my eyes to see if I could identify a figure. All I saw was long hair and a wicked grin. I was about to turn on the Robinson's corner house when Mr. Robinson was backing up the driveway. It startled me since I didn't see it coming and I jumped. I slammed my shoulder against the side of the car, dented it maybe, rolled across its trunk and landed on my feet, unaware of the car that was passing by at a pretty nice speed. Last thing I heard was Mr. Robinson's voice as he got out of his car and the sound of a car horn before my feet were kicked off from underneath me and I was sent hollering into the air, and rolling across an entire car. I would've been fine, had I landed on my feet this time, but no, I landed face down, no hands. My entire face burned with pain as it all blacked out, tires squealing in the distance.

    I'm not sure how much time went after that but eventually I began to feel the wind smashing against my face. My hair went crazy and so did my clothes as the wind thrashed against me. I opened my eyes and that's when I realize I was falling, falling at an incredible speed. I yelled and started to squirm and look around but the strength of the wind was massive. I could barely move. I just kept screaming. I felt two drops of tears form in the corners of my eyes. Where was I? How did I get there? What was happening? These were the only thoughts that crossed my mind before I heard her voice for the first time. Despite the reverberating scream that ripped from my mouth and the sound of the rushing wind against my ear, I heard her. As clear as nothing. Almost as if her voice came from inside.
    "Not yet, love." She said. "There is still one more thing I can do for you." I didn't see anyone. Just the lights of the city way, way, waaay down below.

    And then it happened.