A/N: Basically this is my intro story to all my Benjamin Lamm stories which will be spread over several fictional worlds created by others.

That gut feeling

My name is Benjamin Lamm. Recently I celebrated my seventeenth birthday with my loving family at our local pub. However I was, as the normal story cliché goes, not your average 17 year old boy. There you go I said it. Ha-ha. This journal was given to me as one of my birthday presents, and I believe it will definitely be the most used and useful gift of all. It came from a friend who understood me; very, VERY well. I suppose now that you will be curious as to why I'm different to others. You may be thinking I have special needs, or superpowers or even some freaky cursed object that I can't remove. Nope, with me the problem is indescribable, as it isn't a power I control, nor is it an object. It is neither a malignant tumour nor psychic ability. What ails me is the fact that, on average, I seem to 'disappear' for roughly two minutes, taking any living being within here or four meters Episodes vary considerably, once I disappeared for two hours and the person I was standing right next too stayed in the real world; and once I disappeared taking an entire classroom of pupils and a teacher with me, for a minute. Perhaps I should tell you what happens.

I get this weird feeling in my stomach, like it seems to come alive and twist and turn within me. It pulls out and seems to squeeze, the most queer feeling. Then it feels like I'm being sucked through a hole the size of my thumb through the small of my back. The stomach churning lasts a few minutes giving me a short warning that it is about to happen. However the sucking gives me a few seconds last warning and then, I'm gone…

I have spent many hours contemplating where I go, if it is real or if I just imagine it all or if it is a hallucination or whatever. So far I believe that I 'go to' different realities or dimensions, like those mentioned in sci-fi books and movies. However the main fault in that argument is that were I go always seems to have been… imagined… by someone; by that I mean thought up of, their fantasy. For example there was one time that I swear I spent half a year in Christopher Paolini's fantasy world where the Inheritance cycle is set. There's times when I'm in places I've never seen or heard of before, but I always believe someone, somewhere, thought it up. Often I turn up in the middle of nowhere, no civilization to be found for many thousands of miles. However I do once remember waking up with the sucking feeling, then appearing in the middle of a city in my pyjamas!

I hope by now you have realised what is so 'special' about me. I disappear, randomly, to fictional worlds. The time I spend in these fictional worlds varies just like the time I spend 'disappear' in the real world. However there is one significant difference; in the real world I'm gone for between a few seconds to a couple of hours. In the fictional worlds the shortest I have been in them was a week and a half, and the longest lasted twenty-three years. After learning to keep count of how long I spend 'away' I have managed to calculate that I have lived, in total, for 209 years. When I return to the real world I return to my former age and state of body, no matter what happened to me. I have wondered if I died sometimes on my trips, but either so far I haven't, or, as I believe, I don't remember the trips where I died. No man could, or should, carry the burden of the knowledge of death, and what lies after. When I disappear I can sense where I 'came through' into the other world, but more importantly how long I would be in the other world. It's like the portal, for that is what I call the invisible hole I fell through, whispers to me, not with words, but with feelings. It's like you just know, a lot like the feeling in dreams when you just know this or that. Sometimes I can even see the portal, like heat waves you see raising from tarmac on a hot day, but in a neat circle some feet off the ground, hovering. The only reason I don't think I'm going mad and imagining it all is two-fold; one, it is all too real and simply and utterly un-imaginable, two, others I 'took' with me remember it too, if I let them that is.

My return to the real world causes the same stomach churning, hole sucking feeling, conveniently letting me know in an uncomfortable way that 'your going home!'. However as this happens I get the same feeling, or notion, that I have a choice as to whether those I took with me should remember their experiences. I can choose who remembers and who doesn't. Often I don't let them remember as that is the default, but more importantly I don't want to burden them with queer memories that would alter them and prevent the light feelings and happiness they should feel; especially with children. After I went through my first true childhood in a western, then went back to a child, to then go through childhood a total of seven times but not have the carefree attitude of a child, I vowed to never make someone go through that; unless they wished me to let them remember. Many people my Earth age find me cold and anti-social, but my extreme age and varied experiences has moulded me to a degree that I don't fit in with them any more. True I may even be cold, calculated and anti-social, but after 209 alive witnessing misery on so many different levels and seeing it everywhere, see how light-hearted you stay! Often my laughter and humour is simply hysterical or ironic. Now enough of my ranting for tonight, the sun has set and the moon has risen. The stars twinkle weakly, trying to shine through the veil of light generated by thousands of modern lamps and lights. I'm off to bed, good night, sleep tight, don't let the assassin slit your throat!