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48 Hours
The Past II

The Past II

Martin looked around, confused. That was one weird dream. Martin usually dreamed of flying slime monsters and talking pigs, but the dream he just had was far too realistic.

Well, whatever.

He couldn’t be late for school again. Or maybe he would, just to try to change things up.

“Martin!”

The sound waves smashed into his ears, making him wince.

“Get down here!”

“Coming!”, he yelled. He headed downstairs after brushing his teeth and taking a quick shower. The dining room was the same it had always been, cramped yet clean, and furnished with a medium-sized table in the middle with a couple of plates on it, flanked by 4 wooden chairs. As he squeezed in between the wall and the chairs, he reflected on how they should really get a smaller table. It had been a gift from his granduncle, and his parents were reluctant to trade it in, even though it was just too big.

“Martin!”

“Huh?!”

Martin jerked his head up in surprise. His mom, a Caucasian woman in her 40s, was standing at the entrance with a small pot in her hand.

“Food’s ready! Get the plates!”

“Y-Yeah!”

After a short breakfast, Martin left for school. His ride there was a rickety school bus. The bus looked positively ancient, and was supposed to be replaced soon by the school. The bus was filled with kids, but no one came to talk to Martin.

Martin was okay with that.

He wanted to ask Emily out, but he didn’t particularly care about the rest of his class. They were all assholes who ignored him at every possible opportunity.

That was probably his fault.

Still, they held an immense grudge for something that had happened six years ago. Didn’t they know what it meant to forgive and forget?

Martin sighed, as the voice of the bus driver filled the bus.

“All students, please get off the bus.”

God, he was loud.

That was probably why he was chosen for the job.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

It takes talent to be able to talk over twenty kids all speaking at the same time.

Martin realized with a start that most of the kids had disembarked. He grabbed his school bag and left the bus.

His school building was about as ancient as his bus. Dust was everywhere, and the fact that the janitor was a middle aged drunkard who contributed to the smell more often than not did not help Martin cope with the air quality.

His school was small for a reason.

At all of his classes, he simply stared at the clock for the entire fifty minutes, like most of the other kids.

When the bell rang to signify the end of class, he was the first one out the door.

Lunch was disgusting as usual. The less he thought about it, the better off he would be.

The rest of his classes were a blur.

“Ding!”

“It is now 2:50 PM. Classes are now over. Soccer kid-”, crackled the black speaker as it was immediately drowned out by the chorus of kids talking.

Martin, as always, was the first one to breathe fresh air again.

He smiled. He would ask Emily out, and then based on her response-

Wait.

Hadn’t he already tried this?

He had, but Emily hadn’t come out today and so he gave up-

But that was just a dream, wasn’t it?

The dream was so lifelike though. Was it a dream?

No, he was pretty certain he had died in that dream. There was no coming back from that.

Whatever. If Emily didn’t come out in five minutes, he’d leave.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Five minutes had gone by, and still no sign of Emily.

Exactly like the dream.

He couldn’t remember much about the dream itself, just that he had waited for Emily at the gates and she had never shown up. He then went to the park, where he … died?

Yeah, that was a dream for sure, considering he was alive and kicking.

‘But still’, the cultist side of his brain whispered to him. ‘What if it was a prediction of the future? Or what if he had gone back in time?’

‘Impossible’, the sane side of his brain argued. ‘How about we just focus on the real world and not those crazy delusions you have? Sound good?’

‘But what if-’

‘NO!’

“Hello?”

Martin snapped back to reality, to see the face of the security officer looming right in front of his face.

“Are you oka-”

“Gah!”, Martin gasped as he jumped back at least a foot. “Wait, what?!”

The security officer stepped back.

“You’ve been standing in front of the gates for ten minutes, kid.”

“Oh, uh, sorry, I’ll be on my way then.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do I need to call your parents?”

“Ah, no, no, I’m fine, really, thank you,” Martin said as he furiously back-pedaled.

“All right then …”

Martin turned and bolted out of there.

That was humiliating.

He went straight home, ate dinner, did his homework, brushed his teeth, flossed and jumped back in bed again in a rush. He curled up under the covers.

Today was weird.

Well, at least he didn’t die this time.

This time?

He froze, confused.

‘We’ve already determined that was a dream,’ the rational part of his brain argued. ‘Now go to sleep, it’s late and you need to get up tomorrow morning.’

‘But what if it wasn’t a dream? What if it WAS a vision of the future?’, the wizard-wannabe side of his brain asked excitedly.

‘Whether it was real or not, I don’t care. We need to go to sleep. We have school tomorrow, and we can both agree that’s real.’

‘Maybe. But if tomorrow turns out to be a repeat of today, you have to believe me more.’

‘Deal, because it won’t happen.’

Martin idly wondered about why he was making a bet with himself, before switching off the lights and going to sleep. If tomorrow was magical, he would deal with it tomorrow.

The next day was completely normal.