The universe is immense, something so great, so complex and incapable of understanding at all. Even if hundreds of people have studied her throughout her life they have left questions unanswered. A big question is whether this universe is infinite, or there will be some limit, leaving the whole universe with what is inside in an unknown.
Questions without answers, answers that do not have clear questions. Does everything have a logic or is it chance? There is what we call magic, science fiction or it is all our invention. Honestly I do not know, it's more I believe that no one really knows what the fate with which they created us by which we were born. In other words, because we are in this world, what are we? About us? Etc…
We live a life that we do not know if we control the world around us or if it is the world around us that controls us that is not known until we have already made the decisions
Love and hate, hope and despair, happiness and sadness, black and white, madness and sanity. Everything is connected, you can not have one thing without the other, it's a law not written in the universe for millennia. The reality of both is necessary for them to coexist and to be able to create new ones and to be able to make people have emotions and feelings forming within each one, mixing with the complex universe and creating something new and indescribable crossing us and covering us totally beyond Those that happen to us or what the universe is going through, being unable to let the eyes of others be unable to see them or even our own eyes are unable to see them out of stupidity or because they do not want to see their own desire and end up hiding them in their subconscious Filling them with other false ones harboring that those are the real ones so as to believe their own lie.
My apologies I think I'm getting off the main topic, where was I going? Oh yeah
It was a cold night on the lonely streets, the wind was blowing hard to move the branches of the trees and hit the windows hard, the dim light of streetlights barely lit the sidewalk and the lights in the houses. Normally on a weekday people usually rest so they can go to work, but that does not exist for Rick Sanchez who made his daughter the best divorce party imaginable, everyone was there, teenagers, co-workers Of Beth, unknown and some known.
The music was blaring, the alcohol flowing freely, marijuana marijuana passed from mouth to mouth. Everyone seemed to be having a good time at the party. But it's not entirely true since Morty was in her room. While everyone seemed to be having a good time he was preparing a backpack with essential items like clothes, laptop, money, toothbrush etc ...
I grabbed his backpack and carefully walked out the window, where I crawl on the roof and when I reached the limit was hung on a branch of a tree and carefully went down until his feet touched the ground.
Without thinking he started to run as if his life was in it leaving behind the house where he grew up, and the streets that saw him grow to this day.
He was running for hours, I could even feel the first rays of the sun rising until I touched his skin. His stomach roared with rage that he had not eaten since yesterday at noon, he felt that he would faint right there to sleep and not wake up again. Morty felt that his muscles would not give more of each other until the sound of a train made his senses sharpen near the place where the sound had left. Along with the other trains coming and going without stopping, the station completely empty there was no passenger, no workers in the area.
After analyzing every sound, every smell, of breathing every breath of fresh air he could in that short period of time. He approaches slowly to the tracks of the train, throwing the backpack no matter if they steal it or not, arriving at the edge of the tracks, without hearing any sound everything is silence around him
Until suddenly he could hear a train approaching on the side of his road. I take a deep breath, I bend my knees and when I hear the train was near I jump onto the tracks.
But when he was suspended in the air he felt a sharp pain in his right arm, since it was not for less since some 5 long and sharp needles were nailed in his right arm. The only thing he saw around him was darkness, there was no pain and time had somehow stopped, Morty kept looking around even though from "the accident" his vision was getting worse and worse, But not only that, but his body failed him little by little. Seeing complete darkness meant he was dead? If that was so, why did he still feel pain in his arm? As he turned his head, he saw ... a white light that was gradually taking shape, but before it was taken He disappeared.
Morty felt him tugging at his arm, pushing him hard on the floor, causing him to roll on the floor and a wall hit his head, leaving him unconscious as a shadow approached him.
After several hours unconscious he woke up, but he did not wake up on the station floor but woke up in a train seat, morty inspected his around, it was a simple ordinary train that was moving, morty relaxed in his Seat thinking for a moment that everything that had happened was just a dream.
Until he saw his right arm bandaged, he began to think that he did not remember buying a ticket or entering a train, would he still dream? Was he dead? In an unknown dimension? His anxiety and fear was increasing, causing him to move in his chair while he thought of anything that would help him find some clue of what was happening, but before he could get up from his seat a voice called him
"Excuse me, is the seat free?" Asked a female voice and morty turned to see her.
A girl not much taller than him, with red fire-short hair up to the nape of the neck, blue eyes sky and a fine porcelain skin sat in the free seat in front of him without waiting for his answer
"My name is yuzuhiko, yuzuhiko deschamp" she raised her hand and she hope morty did it too. He gradually raised his hand and simply formalized a greeting while Morty presented himself "I am ... .mo ... morty Smith"
Little did morty know how he would change his life after that greeting
