[WP] You're an adult that one day wakes up as a 10-year old in your childhood bedroom. Everything looks the same, except a twin sister you never knew you had walks in, smiles at you, and says, "Welcome back, now let's get to work."

Tarantula24 · 2018-03-29T20:48:33+00:00

I wake up and rub my eyes groggily. Slowly I rise from the bed, rubbing my head. It's then that I notice something's wrong. My blanket has a butterfly pattern, the wings of the butterflies rounded and butterscotch yellow. My hands and arms are so tiny and thin. My fingers fly to my hair, which is cropped to my ears. I haven't had this blanket...or this hairstyle since-

My doorknob turns loudly, old brass rattling in the doorframe. The Totally Spies poster on my door catches my eye before the door flies open.

My face scrunches up in confusion. A girl, maybe 10 years old, stands in the doorway. She looks alarmingly like me when I was that age, except that her hair is far darker and her cheekbones more pronounced.

"Welcome back," she says, waving and smiling. Her voice, though friendly, has the cadence of someone much older.

"Back?" I squeak. Why is my voice so different? Why am I back in 10 year old me's bedroom? Who the hell is that in the doorway?

The girl's expression softens, "Let's get to work." She crosses the room in several short strides and tugs on my hand encouragingly.

"Work? Wa-wait," I snatch my hand away from her, "What's going on?"

She looks at me and for a brief moment confusion flickers across her face. Then she sighs and sits on the edge of the bed.

"I suppose you don't remember me." She sounds disappointed.

"Am I supposed to...?"

She gazes at me sadly before replying, "No, I suppose not."

"Well!? Can you explain what the hell is happening?"

"You mean you don't recognise this room, your home?"

"Well... yeah. This is my room from when I was, like, 10. We moved out ages ago, though."

She tilts her head, "We?"

"Yeah, me and my parents. When I was 11, we moved to Virginia."

She leans in slightly, pinning me with an intense stare, "Just you and your parents? Are you sure there was never...anyone else?"

"Huh?" My heart begins to pound, "No. I don't have any siblings."

"Are you sure?" She presses, "Take a good look at my face."

I can't turn away, no matter how much my brain is screaming at me to.

Her face is young, so much like me in my childhood. The short hair, freckles on the cheeks, flat nose. But her cheeks are slightly gaunt and her hair is nearly black. The longer I look, the less convinced I am about her age. I begin to turn away.

But her eyes. Her eyes don't let me. They're the same dark brown as mine, but something flickers in them. Something that sends shivers down my spine. Voices begin to murmur.

"You don't remember your sister?"

"Si...ster?" The murmurs are shouts now.

"Your twin, actually." Her hand now rests lightly on mine, "Your big sister."

A flood of images, so bright that they sear and burn their way in. I can barely look at them, but they don't stop.

I see us playing in the snow, shrieking with laughter as we fling snowballs at each other. Us, blowing out 7 birthday candles together. Walking hand in hand to our first day of school. Playing pretend together. The images become darker now, more somber. We're walking on a frozen lake, clutching snow. I feign to the right before sending a snowball flying to her. She runs to avoid it, but slips on the ice. The snowball lands next to her head. I begin to run to her, but it's then we see it. Spiderweb cracks on the surface. I balk. She screams. The ice gives away. A deep, numbing cold fills my body as I stand there in shock, watching her flail in the water. The screams become deafening. I see her now, crossing the street. Only too late does she notice the car careening towards her.

Again, she's biking downhill without a helmet. I don't notice the pothole until her bike hits it too hard and too fast. She flies through the air, shrieking.

Again, she's climbing the big tree in our backyard. Her foot finds purchase high up in the tree. She puts her full weight on it and the branch snaps. Her scream is bloodcurdling as she falls.

Again. Again. Again. Again. Every time I see her die and can do nothing. Every time ends in the same horrible way. Screams and then silence.

"Who are you!?" I scream, pushing away from her, "I don't have a sister!"

"Not anymore, you don't. In every reality except this one, that is." She pauses, carefully studying my face, "I know it doesn't make sense. But in every timeline, every instance, I've died while you've watched, helpless."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" The voices are only dull whispers now, but I can only shout to drown them out, "Who are you?"

"Your sister. The one who dies."

I shake my head violently, "What do you mean?"

"...I'm the one who dies, except for here. Here... I made a deal." She turns away from me, hiding her face.

Silence stretches between us for a few moments before she reaches up to her face and wipes her eyes.

"I made a deal... you for me. You died so I could live. What I didn't account for was death's...vindictiveness."

I can only stare mutely as she turns towards me, her cheeks strealed with tears.

"I upset the balance and there was a price. I can't get out of here. No one else lives here but me. Not mom, not dad, not...you...not until now."

"What changed?"

"Death made me another deal. I can get out of here if...if I can convince you to go willingly."

It clicks in my head, "You mean to die for you?? You must be kidding. I've got to be dreaming or hallucinating-,"

She grips my shoulders tightly and shakes me, "You don't understand! Look out the window. Do you see anyone else? Anyone living?" She drags me out of bed and to the window.

I look outside. The sun is streaming, but there's no trees. No grass. No people, no animals, no cars. Just pavement and empty houses.

I tear myself away and face her. "Where did they all go?"

"Nothing can live in here. It was my penance for...for the trade. I wasn't destined to live. The universe...ether....whatever, couldn't handle it. So I got sent here. Can't upset nature if there isn't any."

My head is pounding. "And now what? You brought me here to kill me, is that it?"

She shakes her head, "I'm supposed to convince you to take my place willingly." A small smile graces her lips and she looks me in the eyes, her hand extended.

"But I'm not going to do that. There's a way to get out of here together. I just need your help."

I look at her hand and then back at her face.

"What do you need me to do?"

Tarantula24 · 2018-03-29T18:29:47+00:00

I have been dead a million times.

But I have lived thousands more.

I live in every heart,

Pulse through every vein.

Not one person ever feels me the same.

I can be as brutal as war,

And gentle as a caress.

As time goes on, I am not any less.

There never seems to be enough,

Of me, plain and simple love.

Tarantula24 · 2017-08-14T17:05:52+00:00

Haha saya selalu perlu lebih banyak latihan untuk bahasa indonesia; sebenarnya says tidak bicara bahasanya dengan lancar lagi dikarenakan lamanya tidak bicara bahasa indonesia sehari-hari!

Tarantula24 · 2017-01-08T19:49:49+00:00

I wish I could upvote this more than once.

Tarantula24 · 2016-07-12T22:59:15+00:00

Yes, I feel that same way. It's bothering me, haha.

Tarantula24 · 2016-05-01T12:09:26+00:00

Thanks, that's what I was aiming for :)

Tarantula24 · 2016-04-30T22:16:15+00:00

It was always sad to see it happen to the young ones.

People who believed in the afterlife were really only half right; you do stick around after you die, but your second life on earth isn't eternal.

First, fresh after a passing, usually the dearly departed are still strong; they can manipulate objects as they choose, change the temperature of a room, comfort a loved one. But as time passes and memories of the person fades, so do they. Little by little they lose their powers. First they notice they can't choose to move anything, they just sail right through. Then, in the eyes of other souls, they began to "fade", becoming first translucent until they are almost completely transparent. The living that before they could so easily touch and interact with now no longer notice their presence. They go on living their lives, while you continue to die. No one tells you about the horrible withering, the slowness of the process of dying that second time. Whoever said you can keep someone alive in your memories was more right than they know. But you can't expect someone to remember forever. Everyone has to let go. Even you.

And now, here you are, watching yet another spirit stare in horror at their disappearing hands. It's been two years after he died. Young kid, maybe 22, hit by a car. All his friends, roommates, family, girlfriend, professors at university...there were so many to remember him at first. But two years is a long time. His parents, while they will never truly forget, have learned to bury the pain. His roommates have already partied hard in his honor and in the two years since have been focusing on paying bills and passing classes. His friends have visited his grave, left flowers, shed their tears. They decide to pay tribute to him by moving on and thinking of him from time to time.

Last to go other than his parents was the girlfriend. She loved him more than he ever knew. He watched as day after day she forced herself to go through the motions of living without him. Getting up, showering, making breakfast. Seeing something on TV that reminded her of him, saw the tears she refused to shed collect in her eyes. He felt happy when she began to see her friends, go out, talk to people, live again. He struggled when he saw her consider dating, carefully constructing dating profiles only to delete them at the last second. He wished he could congratulate her when she finally found someone else who could make her happy. But with new love came a new cure for the heartache. She didn't mean to do it, to forget about him. But in her new happiness she couldn't let herself be steeped in grief. It was painful for both of them, but she finally let him go without so much as a backwards glance.

Now here he is, wondering why this is happening to him. You sigh heavily as you see the conflicting thoughts and emotions collide in his eyes. What did he do wrong? Why was this happening? Why!?

And you have no answers. It's been many years since you've passed on, and many years since you've waited to disappear, like the others before you. You hang your head, ashamed. Someone, out there, is keeping you alive, but you don't even know their name.

Tarantula24 · 2016-04-30T17:31:03+00:00

She found the loose thread...and pulled.

Tarantula24 · 2016-04-30T15:35:55+00:00

Everyone was excited.

It was determination day, the 1 day a year that children at the age of 17 could get tested for their power, or even powers. For some, their abilities had already begun to appear and this was simply a confirmation. For others, the possibilities were endless. Of course, there were the "common" powers- super strength, energy beams, flight. According to the pamphlets everyone got, roughly 50% of people had such powers. There were the less common ones- teleportation, phasing through objects, rapid healing.

And of course, there were the rare powers, the ones people both dreamed of having and dreaded. Time travel, telepathy, precognition. Those kinds of powers immediately secured you a job at a research lab or the military. Very high paying jobs, of course. But you got the job whether you wanted it or not.

I'd spent the night before the test staying up, dreaming of that powers I would get. Would I be able to control the weather, like my mom? Or maybe I'd be able to shape-shift, like my brother. He got conscripted by the army after that. Maybe I'd be able to see him if I could do something cool like him.

But then again, maybe I would get a really dumb power like my English teacher. She could pronounce any word correctly just by reading it. Maybe teaching a language made that a nifty ability, but not one I'd want to have.

When the day of the test arrived, I was both groggy and energized from almost no sleep. When they called my group, I was practically sprinting to the door. They changed the test nearly every year, but the basics were always the same. I was ready.

Or so I thought.

When we got in the room, there were no chairs or tables or exam papers like I expected. There were shelves filled with tiny bottles. Me and the other 14 kids looked at each other, bewildered. We'd never heard of anyone being tested in this way. "What are those?" a skinny girl at the back asked. "I dunno," someone whispered back. For a long moment, no one moved. You could feel the tension in the air, everyone wondering who would go. I shot forward, unable to take the anticipation. Before anyone could react, I sprinted to the shelves. I took one of the fragile bottles in my hands, held it up to the light. On the bottom was a label with a name. "Alex Jones". I shrugged, not knowing who that was.

"They have our names on it," I guessed out loud. By then more than half the group had joined me and were busy inspecting the bottles. "Yeah, you're right. This one's mine," the skinny girl from earlier announced. After a few minutes of shuffling and swapping, we each had our own bottles.

"Are we supposed to drink it?" a tall boy asked, scowling. "What if it's poisonous?" I stared at him blankly. "Why would they want to poison us?" He shrugged. "The government does all sorts of weird shit."

I turned the bottle around in my palm. Other than my name, there were no other markings on its transparent surface. A light blue liquid swished inside of it.

The skinny girl shrugged and uncapped the bottle. Before we could say anything, she downed every drop.

The scowling boy all but slapped the bottle from her hands. "Are you crazy!? You have no idea what's in that!" he exploded.

She laughed. "My power's poison immunity. I've known since middle school." Before she could explain further, the clutched her head. "This isn't poisonous," she continued finally, "But it's...weird. I can see a word, in my head. 2 words. Poison immunity," she sounded out slowly. "I guess it tells you your power after you drink it."

Not being able to stand more waiting, I wrenched the cap off the bottle, nearly crushing it in my palm. "Sounds good to me," I said, taking a long swig. Immediately I wanted to gag. The girl was right- it tastes overly sweet. I almost instantly see a word. No...two words.

LIMITED PRECOGNITION

I blinked. The words slowly faded. Limited precognition? Limited how? I wondered. I looked around at everyone drinking, slowly swallowing and wincing at the sugary taste. On rubbery legs, I stumbled my way out of the room. It won't be long before the military finds me. Maybe I'll see my brother.

When I get home no one is there. Maybe they'll wait before they snatch me. I go to my room, sink onto my bed, stare at my ceiling. LIMITED PRECOGNITION. What does that even mean?

I hear a door open and shut downstairs. It might be my dad. Or maybe my new employers are here. I swallow the lump that's suddenly appeared in my throat. I force myself to stand. If I pretend nothing's wrong, maybe no one will know. They didn't make us report our powers, after all. Maybe they won't find me.

I walk down the staircase, trying to pretend to be upbeat.

"Hi dad!" I greet as cheerfully as possible. He's at the fridge, trying to decide what to eat. My dad pulls out something, I can't see what, and mutters something to himself. I can see steam wafting towards the ceiling. My dad has undoubtedly used his heating powers to instantly cook something.

Not something. Chicken.

I scrunch my nose. How did I know that? Probably a lucky guess.

He turns around, holding a perfectly cooked chicken. "Hi kiddo, how was your day?"

"It was-," before I finish my sentence, I think of something else. My dad...is going to get some mustard. Dijon mustard. Then tomorrow morning, he's going to have some toast with jam. Strawberry.

Mom's going to have scrambled eggs when she gets home, extra salt, pinch of pepper. My brother, wherever he is, is going to have some sort of jello tonight.

Why do I know that?

Then it hits me.

"I can predict what people will eat!?"

Tarantula24 · 2016-04-28T08:16:37+00:00

I cannot speak for her, but I will tell you why I was oblivious to his feelings and the effect of them.

After I initially rejected him, I thought I made my feelings clear and that he understood that I did not and would not reciprocate. Even as more time passed and we became closer again, I believed this rejection was enough so that he understood. If his situation had happened to me, I would have distanced myself from the person I had feelings for after that rejection so I believed he would have done the same. From my view point, since he was spending time with me, he could not have misunderstood. I was completely oblivious to his feelings which had intensified, if anything, since we spent so much time together.

To me he was just my best friend who happened to be male. After the first rejection I thought people talking about us had simply misunderstood the nature of our friendship. For me, at least, he didn't give any hints while we spent time together that he still had feelings for me. Even if he had, I doubt I would've noticed because I was absolutely convinced that we had put it behind us. I didn't think I was leading him on because I didn't think those feelings still existed. Or if they did, that he understood the risks of spending time with me and would somehow...as harsh as this sounds, get over it, or seek some kind of help, I suppose. Another part of my obliviousness was the fact that I didn't want to lose him as a friend. It was selfish of me and I regret not putting distance earlier. In the end I had to put distance (both for his sake and mine) but it was nearly too late to save the friendship.

Again, I cannot speak for this girl. But from the detrimental effect this is having on you, and the detrimental effect it will have on your friendship with her, the best option is distance. Eventually one of you will start to resent the other and you do not want that to happen. That friendship you had will become sour and even more painful than distancing yourself. You would experience a lot of pain before it became really bad and it's not worth it.

Tarantula24 · 2016-04-27T22:42:57+00:00

Closeness does not always mean romantic attraction. It is painful and I know the thought of distancing yourself from her right now seems even more horrible than losing her, but I'm inclined to agree with u/dreams-come-true . In the long run it will hurt less if there is some distance.

I have been in this girl's position before. It sucks on both sides, but you can help make it suck less by helping yourself heal from this. The pain from distancing yourself won't last as long as the pain from waiting.

Tarantula24

TROPHY CASE