I still remember, when Time was on our side.

 

Morning. It is silent. The birds have stopped singing. My eyes are wide.

I get up. The carpet is fuzzy beneath my toes. As I walk over to my window and push my curtains aside, a mixture of white and cyan stripes cloud my vision, until my gaze finally meets with the outside world. It’s snowing. The ground mimics a mountain of inedible vanilla ice-cream.

Or, maybe I’m just seeing things. It’s late—technically. I’m hungry.

Music reaches my bedroom door like an old shadow, dripping of dark memories onto the floor. Upon hearing the familiar song, a shiver runs through my legs. My parents play an old vinyl record that was created long before I was born. Although the song it carries is far from belonging to my generation, it makes me nostalgic, and reminds me of better times.

My eyes shift back to the window. I know it is likely that only my mindset is what has changed, and not my surroundings—yet, on days like these, the scenery feels new. At least, I'd like for it to.

I blink. The endless falling of white flakes is peculiar. It fascinates me enough to forget sometimes, that this has been going on for days, in a loop, in this place, that I am not quite sure what to call anymore.

I wonder if it’ll ever end.

The clock rested against my desk tells me another minute has passed. I wish I could nail the dratted thing back onto the wall after the fall it suffered yesterday—whenever that was—however the effort would be in vain, for it would just be returned to my desk tomorrow again.

Again.

Again, as if on cue, laughter seeps into the slit of my half open door, into the widths of my moderately small, square room. The sound bounces off against the walls. “I can’t stay here,” I mutter the phrase beneath my breath, once, then twice. An alert, and a reminder.

I slip into my socks, followed by a pair of heavy boots. My throat hurts. I'm thirsty. I need to drink. I need, to leave.

I grab my bag, it feels lighter than I remembered it to be. Perhaps, it is. Or, perhaps, the day hasn't truly started yet. I do not know.

I hear their laughter once more. I cough, walk past the kitchen, then out the heavy wooden door that slams behind me. I doubt they have noticed my absence, they are still laughing, as always— frozen, like icicles glued below our rooftops. I hear this happens to others, too, every now and then, if the Bad Man catches you.

But I saw no man, when it first happened to them.

So, why are they stuck, travelling back and forth, through time itself?

I gulp. The outside world greets me with a chilling wind.

Past the sidewalk, car tracks are heavily imprinted in the snow’s depths. However, there isn’t a vehicle in sight as I step forward. I feel a presence, and then notice a light, but it's a fleeting moment, something caught where it shouldn't have been again, in the jaws of time—an Anomaly.

At least, that’s what I like to call them. Others may say they are creatures or events stuck in the wrong timeline. Puzzle-pieces hinting to what could have been. Leftovers, for Him to do away with.

A cat paws at my apartment complex’s door. Perhaps, I would have tried to help it, in another life. But here, I only watch, as an elderly woman comes to pick the poor thing up, before the scene replays again in a loop, mere seconds later.

They've ceased to exist in this timeline, forever trapped in their last memory, until this planet breathes its last.

I understand why many have given up, these days, instead of living with what has now become our reality. It is terribly unnerving to be left in the dark like this. We still do not know if the ones who are trapped retain their consciousness, why this happens, nor how.

Some think them dead.

Others, speculate they are stuck in their bodies, doomed to repeat the same action over again.

I choose to believe in nothing, for it is a fact, that even if they desired to break free, silent pleas for help cannot be communicated through the brief glimpses I catch from their eyes sometimes.

There is nothing I can do. I would rather not think about their predicament too strongly.

I can only hope, it won’t happen to me. There aren’t many of us left, after all.

Author's Note, please read!: There's only 3 days left to vote for my entry (this story) in Neovel's writing contest, please consider voting if you can! My story won't be judged or have the opportunity to win if it's not in the top voted stories, and I'm a little behind right now, the link to vote and read the full completed story can be found in the description, please consider voting, thank you so much! ❤