*Author's Note* Four years ago, I started writing a story for the sake of it. I hadn't put any proper thought into it, thus there was no destination. While writing the eighth chapter I hit an obstacle: writer's block. The sense of euphoria I'd had up to that point faded, and I saw the story for mess that it was. Yet, I wasn't willing to let it die. I'd put so much time and effort into writing it, and I still saw potential in it. Unfortunately, writer's block is a bitch. So I unwillingly took a break lasting about six months. During that time, I began writing numerous other spur-of-the-moment stories that held both promise and no destination. I'm mentioning these because some of them became parts of this story over time. My writer's block stuck around for a couple of years, but there were some breakthroughs here and there, and I never completely stopped chipping away at this. Slowly but surely, it's finally coming together, and I'm on the brink of writing the ninth of many chapters to come. I don't know how long it will take to finish this, maybe two years depending on how things go, but this will be finished. My only hopes are that it'll be as good of a story as I think it is and that it'll be worth the wait. Now, with that said and done, the rebirth of this story shall commence.
Synopsis
Videogames, sub-par grades, a dispersed group of friends that occationally hangs out, and a family
in the midst of a long lasting rough patch; that is Aidan's mundane life in a nut-shell.
A vanishing car, a silver headed girl, a mysterious note, a hospital bill paid by an unknown
party; those are just some of the mysteries that plauge John, a teenager who awoke in the wilderness
of a foreign land.
One will be thrust into chaos. One will have to regain what he lost. Both will question reality.
Only one will wonder: "Am I awake, or dreaming?"
Prologue
A New Year
January 7, 2013. That was the day winter vacation ended. All the schools in the area, including the one down the street from my house, were back in session. However, if you had happened to be one of my teachers, classmates, or friends, you would have noticed an additional empty desk in my respective classes and that I was nowhere to be found. Why is that? I'll rewind back to New Year's Eve, so you can see for yourself.
The sky was overcast, the sun just barley poking its head out from behind the clouds of late afternoon; a time when the sun had almost set in the late December sky. I was sitting on the bench at Bus Terminal 1, one of six terminals that made up the small city's bus loop. Behind me was the Liquidation World that the bus loop seemed to surround, when in reality terminals 2 through 6 lined the front of the store, leaving Terminal 1 by itself on the building's left side like some kind of reject. In front of me was Clover Road with four lanes of bustling traffic; a concrete meridian spotted with decorative rocks split it length-wise down the middle. On the opposite side was the local Value Village, one of a number of businesses that made up Highland Village Mall. Looking passed the thrift shop, I could see 67th Ave wrapping around the strip mall parking lot to meet Clover, a couple handfuls of other businesses beyond it, and the alleyway known as Denton Lane that lead into the heart of downtown.
I lifted my wrist and glanced at the digital display of the watch strapped to it.
5:22 pm, it read.
I was late. The bus ride alone was an hour at best, and I still had to catch a Skytrain down to Joyce Road after that.
There's no way I'm gonna get there by six, I thought.
Lowering my arm, I looked around at the small number of people that had gathered around the bus stop. Then I saw a bus pull up to the intersection to my left, its right turn signal blinking. I hoped that bus was mine, and as it turned in my direction I scanned the display that sat just above its windshield and found-
-that it was brightly lit with the words 'Sorry, Not In Service.' The bus drove passed the terminal and turned right into the alleyway behind the Liquidation World before slowing to a stop. The buss driver then shut off the engine, exited the bus, and proceeded to go on his break.
Shit.
I lifted my wrist and glanced at my watch again.
5:23 pm, the bus should be here by now- Lowering it, I looked around once more -where the hell is it?
I was growing inpatient, and was considering the idea of crossing the street to wander the isles of the Value Village and kill time. I probably would have done just that, if I hadn't already done so shortly after missing the 4:58 bus by a matter of seconds. A bus I wouldn't have missed if I had realized a minute or two sooner into my walk that I had forgotten my wallet at home. I let out a sigh, watching the world go by as time moved like a slug on pavement after a spring rain. Another bus soon pulled up to the intersection. Despite it's lack of a blinking turn signal, I held the faint hope that it was in fact my bus and that the driver had simply made an error. It wasn't surprising when the bus pulled forward and crossed the intersection. Really, it was a confirmation of what I already knew. I dismissed it before it disappeared behind the Value Village.
More time passed, and a third bus pulled up to the intersection, its right turn signal blinking. I eyed it with passive eagerness as it waited and then turned, revealing the display.
402 Surry Central Station Via Oakbrook
I stood up, grabbing the plastic bag that had been sitting next to me on the bench as I did, and joined the crowd of people as they formed a disorganized line next to the Bus Stop sign. As the bus pulled into the bay, I fumbled with my wallet and fished out the $1.75 that I needed for my fare. The front doors of the bus folded open. People began boarding. When my turn came, I climbed the steps and funneled my change into the ticket machine. It spat out a white rectangle with a black magnetic strip, which I then took. Sliding the ticket into the pocket of my hoody, I turned and walked down the length of the aisle, and then claimed a seat on the bench at the very back of the bus. My gaze moved to the window as the bus pulled away from the terminal. I lifted my wrist again and glanced at my watch.
5:30 pm
I let out another sigh and reached into the bag I had placed on the seat next to me, pulling out a silver PSP and a pair of yellow, plastic headphones from the late 80's. Plugging in the headphones, I turned on my PSP and scrolled over to 'Music.' I then opened a sub menu and scrolled down to 'September' by Daughtry. Starting the song, I began brainstorming, imagining a line of emergency vehicles driving down a dirt road lined on both sides by trees. Then a house engulfed in flames comes into view. Two children, a ten year old boy with blue hair and green eyes and a six year old girl with red hair and blue eyes, stand in front of it; watching in horror. Many mental images later, including the fiery death of two parents and a brother, the song ended and I selected another to listen to.
About an hour later, the bus arrived at the closest Skytrain station, which sat at the very end of a large system of train tracks. Myself and a good number of other people got up from our seats, exited through one of the two sets of doors and made our way up the front steps to the station entrance. Once inside, I immediately moved to the left wall and climbed an ascending escalator, which had concrete stairs built alongside it, to the station platform. A boxy westbound train was already waiting there with its numerous doors slid open, ready for passengers. I crossed the threshold into the nearest train car and took a seat in the back next to a window. A couple of other people boarded the car. The first, an Asian woman with shopping bags in hand, sat down in the middle of the car with her back to a window; the second, a middle aged Caucasian man wearing a leather jacket, found a seat facing me at the other end of the car next to one of the doors. Lifting my wrist, I once again glanced at the display of my watch.
6:17 pm
A huff of air escaped through my nose. I then adjusted the position of the watch, sliding it up my arm barely enough to rub my irritated wrist. After around a minute and a half of anticipation, three short tones, growing in pitch, rang in succession from speakers hidden in the ceiling. The doors slid shut, and the train pulled away from the platform with a growing whine. As the minutes passed, the train stopped at other stations and progressively filled up with more and more bodies. I spent the time looking out the window.
The train rounded a wide bend, and a large, uneven field alongside the busy road below came into view. A mass of trees lined the far end of the field, and there were a couple of temporary wooden billboards spaced apart on the road side. I turned my gaze to the opposite window. It wasn't visible from my seat, but I knew I was passing my destination. A single tone rang from the speakers overhead. "The next station is: Joyce Road," announced a robotic, female voice. The whining of the electric motors wound down as the train pulled into the station and slowed to a stop. The doors slid open. People got on, people got off; I joined the latter, and descended the nearest set of stairs. It was dark out now; the sun had set, and the December chill was tightening it's grip. Along the curb at the bottom of the entrance steps, three taxis sat, waiting on possible fairs. Beyond the taxis was a parking lot. Lamp posts placed evenly around the parking grid provided minimum illumination, and a dozen or so cars were dotted around. I headed left, and after a few moments, my eyes focused on what was ahead of me. My feet came to an abrupt stop as I quickly registered what I'd done. Letting out an annoyed sigh, I continued onward. I had descended the wrong set of stairs and was on the wrong side of a highway exit as a result. The proper thing to do, and what I would've typically done, would've been to climb back up to the station platform and down the stairs to the other side. I didn't do that. On top of being late, I wasn't in the mood to trudge the long way around. So instead, I stepped over the concrete barrier, waited for a safe gap in traffic, and jogged across. There was another parking lot on the other side, a twin to the first. Two more taxis were laying in wait in front of another entrance. Across the lot, there was an asphalt path leading away from it. Light pollution from the nearby road and prominent structures kept it out of complete darkness. Part of its length traveled beside a giant empty lot covered with dead grass and littered with garbage and gravel. I followed this path for around a minute, until it curved left at an angle toward the road. Where does the path lead? I do not know. I never followed it beyond that point, instead always opting to reach and cross the parking lot of a Home Depot. The parking lot was lit to a bare minimum, and it was almost empty. After walking across and turning left onto the deserted road beyond it, I began to pass by one of a small number of salvage yards that were in the area. This one in particular had a small unfenced lot facing the road that was packed with cars, ranging greatly in years, in various stages of neglect. It was then that a song that fit perfectly with my melancholic mood began to play. Technically, it wasn't really a song. It was more of a... melody, I guess? I'm not quite sure how to classify it, but the name of the piece was 'Brooks Was Here'. It's from a movie that I admit I haven't watched, and I came across it at random while looking up the soundtrack of The Social Network. Regardless of how I came to have it, I was tempted to put it on repeat.
I walked passed a fast food restaurant and a bunch of used car lots before reaching my destination: a banquet hall. The building, sitting on the lower half of a steep hill, had two flags, Canadian and Portuguese, that hung from flagpoles situated above a lone set of double doors. The parking lot that accommodated the venue was split in two, one half staying with the main entrance while the other sunk down to become more flush with the slope. After crossing the parking lot, I stepped through the doors and into the hall's warm, foodstuffs smelling interior. My glasses fogged up due to the sudden change in temperature, but that didn't stop me from walking out into the main hall. It was full of people sitting at round tables that had been arranged to form a straight, unmarked isle down the middle of the hall. This isle lead to a stage, which jutted from the back wall and overshadowed a tiny bar that was situated to its left. A Happy New Years banner hung above the stage opening, and a decent amount of balloons were held in nets suspended from the ceiling. The tile flooring was a fine granite, I think; the neon green walls with waist height teal baseboard things went all around, both were faded with age. There were many vertical windows on the left and right walls. It took me a few seconds to spot the right table. Once I did though, I walked over to it and was greeted by an overly joyous voice.
"Hey, you found us!" My mom called, appearing in good spirits. She was wearing a black blouse with black pants, and her hair was being held up in its usual bun by a bunch of hair clips. The smile on her face did well, hiding the over-stressed and increasingly compromised woman behind it.
"Yeah, so?" I took off my Old Navy hoody and hung it on my chair before sitting down next to her, feeling slightly annoyed.
"What took you so long?" That valid question came from my cousin, who was sitting next to my brother on the opposite side of the table.
"I forgot my wallet and missed the bus."
"Well, that must have sucked."
"Yeah," I droned.
My older sister appeared at edge of the hall ten minutes later, pausing for a few seconds before walking over and taking a seat next to me. She then proceeded to chew me out for playing videogames at the table and forced me to stow my PSP back in its bag. Not long after that, the waiters began serving dinner. Soup was first, followed by a platter of fish, rice, and chicken. My brother and cousin cracked some jokes, sparking a table wide conversation. I didn't say anything though; I just sat there and listened as I ate. Once everyone in the hall had eaten, the plastic cover was taken off of the desert table. I went up to it and chose a couple of deserts, but I wasn't in the mood to have much more than that. Then there was a Rancho performance, which my mom and sister were part of, and after that the DJ played music for people to dance to. Needless to say, this wasn't new in my family. If anything it was getting real old. As people got up to dance, I retreated to the bathrooms with my plastic bag in tow; and before you say it, no I did not play my PSP in the bathroom. There was a small room with wood paneled walls next to the bathrooms that was mainly used for hanging coats, but it was hardly ever used for that purpose. There was a plastic chair in the back corner of the room next to an electrical outlet, making it the perfect spot to hole up and play Burnout Legends. My mom came by the room a few times, trying to convince me to dance, but I told her each time that I didn't want to. Eventually, midnight was announced to be a mere minute away. I got up from my seat and walked out into the hall to witness the countdown commence. After the final second had passed, balloons fell and people cheered that it was January 1, 2013. When all was said and done, we all piled into the car and drove home, dropping off my sister and cousin at their respective residences along the way. It was two in the morning by the time we walked through our front door, and immediately my brother and mother headed off to bed. Not too long after that, I snuck my mom's laptop into my room. As to why, there's a certain yearly tradition that I keep up. It's not something weird or breath taking, just something I did as a kid that I decided to continue out of apathy. Every year after midnight, I see how long I can stay up. That year I ended up watching YouTube videos until about five in the morning. After that, I hit the hay. I woke up the next day sometime around noon and spent the day on my computer, wasting my time with Minecraft and more YouTube videos. Then it hit me. What if I did the same thing every night for the rest of my winter vacation? Of course, in hindsight I now realize how stupid of an idea it was, but at the time my brother would always force me to shut down my computer by 10:00pm, and the idea of extra computer use was too tempting. So, as fate would have it, I found myself on my last day of vacation with a handful of botched attempts to mend my sleep schedule and no one to blame but myself. I went to bed early in a last ditch effort, but I was still wide awake to see the red numbers of my clock change from 3:59 to 4:00. When the clutches of sleep finally began to take hold, I realized that there was no way in hell I was going to get up in the morning.
And that's why I wasn't at school, and was instead laying in bed under twisted blankets and sheets, half-asleep.
"I just hope I don't miss anything important." I mumbled to myself.