Awoken to an unfamiliar sensation, my consciousness began settling into a new vessel. The name Ichabod echoed through my mind, a fleeting whisper of identity for the young college student whose form I now inhabited. The room around me was cluttered with textbooks and the faint aroma of stale coffee, a contrast to the timeless void I had left behind.

With each passing second, Ichabod's memories began to blend with my own eternal recollections. I could feel his anxieties about upcoming exams, the weight of youthful aspirations. Yet, amidst this discordance of human experience, my purpose remained clear - to observe, to witness. I stood, navigating Ichabod's limbs with a practiced ease born of countless lifetimes. As I moved towards the door, a reflection in the mirror caught my eye. Ichabod's face, unfamiliar yet now a part of me, stared back with a look of bewildered determination.

Exiting the room, I found myself in the bustling corridors of the university. Students hurried past, lost in their own worlds of deadlines and dreams. Yet, their lives, so vibrant and fleeting, seemed more profound than ever before.

"Hey Ichabod, wait up!" a voice called out.

I turned to see a young woman; her face bright with a smile that Ichabod's memories recognized instantly. It was Amber his closest friend.

"Amber," I replied, Ichabod's voice unfamiliar on my tongue.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she joked, her eyes scanning my face. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, just... a lot on my mind," I said, the truth more complex than she could fathom.

We walked together, her chatter a comforting melody against the backdrop of my thoughts. She spoke of a professor's eccentricities, of plans for the weekend, simple human concerns that Ichabod would have engaged with eagerly.

"And how's the history paper coming along?" she asked, a hint of concern in her tone.

"History," I murmured, the irony not lost on me. "It's... progressing."

"You know, you can always talk to me, right? If something's bothering you," Amber said, her sincerity touching a part of Ichabod's heart I now shared.

"I know, Amber. Thank you," I replied, grateful for the human connection, however fleeting.

As we parted ways, her presence lingered in my mind, a reminder of the purpose of human emotion I was now a part of.

Alone again, I pondered my eternal duty. Each life I touched, each soul I merged with, added to the depth of my understanding. Ichabod's life, with its hopes and fears, was now a chapter in my unending journey through time.

As I made my way back to Ichabod's home, a sprawling estate that spoke of his family's wealth, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the manicured lawns. The magnificence of the place, while impressive, felt distant to me, a mere scenery to the human experiences I sought to understand. Upon entering, the familiar chatter of family life enveloped me. Ichabod's younger sister, Daisy, was lounged on the living room sofa, engrossed in a novel. Her bright, curious eyes lifted as I entered.

"Ichabod! You're home early," she remarked, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

"Yeah, not much happening on campus today," I replied, trying to mirror Ichabod's casual demeanour.

Before I could retreat to the solitude of Ichabod's room, a deep voice boomed from the hallway. It was Ichabod's older brother, Marcus, returning from his job at the family business. He usual comes to visit the family now and then. His presence was commanding, yet there was a warmth in his eyes that spoke of deep familial bonds.

"There's the prodigal student! How's college life treating you, little brother?" Marcus asked, clapping a firm hand on my shoulder.

"It's... good, challenging," I managed, caught off guard by the physicality of the gesture.

Marcus chuckled, his gaze shifting to Daisy. "And how's my favourite sister?"

"Only sister," Daisy retorted playfully, closing her book.

The dynamics of this family, similar to the countless others I had observed, fascinated me. There was a genuine affection here, a sense of unity despite the inevitable frictions of daily life.

As dinner time approached, the house came alive with the scents of a lavish meal. The family gathered around the table, a ritual of togetherness that Ichabod's memories fondly recalled. Each member shared stories of their day, a tapestry of individual experiences woven into a collective narrative.

I listened more than I spoke, absorbing the nuances of their interactions, the unspoken bonds that held them together. Daisy’s laughter, Marcus's anecdotes about the business world, the subtle way their parents exchanged glances – all these details painted a vivid picture of a life rich with connection and complexity.

Later, as I retreated to Ichabod's room, the weight of my eternal journey settled upon me once more. Inhabiting Ichabod's life, engaging with his family, I was not just a passive observer but an active participant in the human story. Each moment, each interaction, was a thread in the vast weave of time that I was tasked to witness.

Lying in Ichabod's bed, I pondered the strange blend of destiny and choice that defined human existence. For a brief time, I was Ichabod, bound by his relationships and responsibilities, yet I was also something more, something beyond the confines of a single life.

As I nestled into the comfort of Ichabod's bed, my consciousness began to drift towards the serene embrace of sleep, a rare respite for a being like me. However, this fleeting moment of peace was abruptly interrupted by the chime of Ichabod's phone. A jolt of surprise coursed through me; such mundane interruptions were still novel in their immediacy.

I reached for the phone, the screen casting a soft glow in the dimly lit room. There was a text from Amber, a reminder tinged with expectancy: "Don't forget about our movie night. You promised, Ichabod!"

The message stirred a mixture of emotions within me. As The Witness, promises were unfamiliar territory, but for Ichabod, they held weight. I realized then that the commitment Ichabod had made to Amber was now mine to honour.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

I typed a response, "I'll be there. What time?"

Her reply came quickly. "Awesome! Come over at 8. Can't wait. xxx."

I sat up, a sense of duty propelling me. Inhabiting Ichabod's life meant more than just observing; it required engagement, participation in the rituals and interactions that defined human existence.

I changed into casual attire; an outfit Ichabod would have chosen for such an occasion. As I left the house, I felt a curious blend of anticipation and apprehension. As I was setting out to Amber’s place, I made my way through the elegant hallway of Ichabod's home towards the kitchen, I noticed the soft glow of light spilling from the lounge. There, in her usual spot by the fireplace, sat Ichabod's mother, a glass of red wine in her hand, the embodiment of evening relaxation. This was her ritual, a moment of tranquillity amid a bustling household.

"Hey, Mom," I greeted, stepping into the lounge. The familiar scent of red wine mingled with the warmth of the fire, creating an atmosphere of comfort and serenity.

She looked up, her eyes reflecting the gentle firelight. "Ichabod, there you are. Join me for a minute?"

I hesitated, aware of time slipping by, but the inviting warmth of the room and the gentle expression on her face coaxed me to stay. I took a seat across from her, observing the way the light danced in her wine glass.

"I'm heading to Amber’s for movie night," I informed her, watching her reaction closely.

She nodded, taking a sip of her wine. "I remember, you two have been doing that every couple of weeks for the past years, haven't you? But you often miss it for studying."

"Yeah, I do," I admitted, feeling a pang of guilt that belonged to Ichabod. "But I promised Amber that I wouldn't bail this time."

Her smile was warm, filled with understanding. "I'm glad to hear that. It's nice to see you keeping your commitments. Just don't overdo it with the studying, alright? Balance is key."

"I'll remember that, Mom. Thanks," I said, feeling a sense of appreciation for the maternal wisdom she offered.

She took another sip of her wine, her gaze thoughtful. "You know, Ichabod, it's these little moments, these connections with people we care about, that make life so rich. Don't lose sight of that in the midst of all your ambitions."

Her words resonated with a depth that transcended Ichabod's experiences, touching upon a truth I had observed across countless lives and eras. The significance of human connections, the richness they brought to life's purpose, was indeed a profound aspect of the human experience.

"Thanks, Mom. I'll keep that in mind," I replied, standing up to leave. "I should get going now."

"Have a good time, dear. And say hello to Amber for me," she said with a final, affectionate smile.

As I arrived at Amber’s house, a sense of familiarity washed over me. Ichabod and Amber had been friends since childhood, their lives intertwined with a depth of history and comfort. Her parents greeted me with the warmth and friendliness characteristic of people who had seen me grow up alongside their daughter.

"Good to see you, Ichabod!" her father, Jaxon, exclaimed with a hearty laugh, clapping me on the back.

"Always a pleasure to have you over," her mother, Vera, added, her smile as welcoming as ever.

I responded with gratitude, feeling Ichabod's ease in this almost second home. We exchanged a few pleasantries before I made my way to the lounge where Amber was setting up for the movie night.

Amber's vibrant energy filled the room, her cheerful disposition a stark contrast to the quiet contemplation I was accustomed to. "I'm honestly surprised you showed up, Ichabod. I half expected a last-minute text about some urgent study session," she teased, her eyes sparkling with humour.

I smiled, acknowledging the truth in her jest. "Well, I'm here to break the pattern. So, what movie are we watching tonight?"

She pondered for a moment before shrugging. "Your pick. I can't decide."

Choosing a movie proved to be a light-hearted debate, with Amber insisting that I make the decision this time. I finally picked a comedy, hoping it would set a relaxed and enjoyable tone for the evening.

As she went to get snacks, I settled on the couch, the familiar setting bringing a wave of nostalgia. When Amber returned, she sat close, the proximity a natural aspect of our friendship, yet I sensed an undercurrent of something deeper in her casual manner.

The movie played, but our attention often drifted to casual conversations, a comfortable exchange between old friends. At one point, Amber turned to me, her expression a mix of amusement and intrigue.

"I had the strangest encounter at the library yesterday," she began, her voice tinged with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. "This guy just came up to me and confessed his feelings. I barely know him, though I've seen him in one of my classes."

"That's... pretty forward of him," I replied, intrigued by the spontaneity of the gesture and its impact on Amber.

"I know, right? it was unexpected. He seems nice though. I'm not sure what to make of it yet," she said, twirling a strand of her hair, with her gaze flickering away for a moment.

"Maybe give it some time, see if you get to know him better?" I suggested.

Amber paused, her fingers tracing the rim of her snack bowl. "Maybe. It's just... I haven't really felt that way about anyone. Well, not anyone available, anyway." Her voice trailed off, burdened with unspoken thought.

I felt a tug at Ichabod's heart, a complex mix of empathy and discomfort. "Relationships can be complicated," I offered, hoping to provide comfort. "Sometimes it's hard to know what we want."

She smiled ruefully, a hint of melancholy in her eyes. "Yeah, you're right. It's just funny, you know? You grow up with someone, see them all the time, and then suddenly realize you feel more than just friendship. But then, reality kicks in, and you understand it's one-sided."

The honesty in her words resonated within me, the eternal observer of human hearts. "Amber, I—" I began, but hesitated, unsure of how to navigate this delicate terrain of unspoken feelings and friendship.

She quickly changed the subject, a masterful deflection that spoke of her desire to preserve our friendship above her own feelings. "Anyway, enough about my library admirer. How's this semester been going for you? Staying on top of everything?"

The change in topic was a relief, allowing us to return to the more familiar everyday conversations. "Yeah, it's going well. The usual workload, but I'm managing."

Throughout our conversation, I couldn't help but admire Amber's resilience and grace. Her ability to balance her feelings, maintaining her vibrant and outgoing persona.

The evening progressed with more laughter and light-hearted discussions. Amber's revelation about her feelings gave me a deeper insight into her personality and her relationship with Ichabod.

"Looks like it's getting late," she observed, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

"Yeah, it is," I acknowledged, feeling a sense of reluctance myself, not just because the night was ending, but because of the deeper insights I had gained into Amber's feelings.

As I stood up to leave, Amber walked me to the door. "Thanks for not bailing tonight, Ichabod. It means a lot," she said, her eyes reflecting a mixture of happiness and something deeper, perhaps a longing for something more.

"It was a great night. I'm glad I came this time And I'm sorry for bailing on you so often before." I replied, feeling the weight of Ichabod's unspoken commitment to their friendship.

She waved her hand dismissively, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's okay. I get it. You're busy with college and stuff. I'm just happy we got to hang out tonight."

There was a pause, filled with unspoken words and emotions. I wanted to say more, to acknowledge the depth of her feelings, but I hesitated, aware of the fragile balance of her and Ichabod’s friendship.

"Amber," I started, then stopped, searching for the right words. "You're a really important friend to me. I just want you to know that."

Her eyes softened, and she gave a small, sincere nod. "Thanks, Ichabod. That means a lot. You're important to me too. Always have been."

We shared a smile, a moment of mutual understanding and appreciation. Then, with a lightness in her voice, she added, "Don't be a stranger, okay? And no more bailing on movie night!"

I laughed, the tension easing slightly. "Deal. No more bailing."

"Take care, Ichabod. See you around campus?"

"Definitely. See you, Amber."

With that, I stepped out into the cool night air, leaving Amber's warm, inviting home behind.

In the quiet of Ichabod's room, where shadows played across the walls and the outside world seemed a distant memory, my essence as The Witness transcended the physical confines of sleep. I found myself in a realm beyond realms, a dimension where time and reality didn't just meet but intertwined in an eternal, cosmic embrace. Here, in this boundless vastness, the fabric of existence folded upon itself, creating a weave that was both beautiful and incomprehensible. I was both everywhere and nowhere, a spectator to the universe yet apart from it. This was my true domain, a place where I existed in my purest form, unencumbered by the limitations of mortal vessels. In this space, I often conversed with myself, a ritual that served as a reminder of my purpose and existence.

"Why do we need these pseudo-souls?" I asked, my voice echoing in the void.

The answer, as always, came from within, a reflection of my timeless knowledge. "The pseudo-souls are vessels, necessary for our journey through time. They provide the means to witness life, to experience the myriad facets of existence."

"But why witness at all? What purpose does our endless observation serve?" I questioned, the query resonating in the infinite expanse.

"The purpose is to understand, to gather the essence of time and life. Each soul we inhabit, each life we witness, adds to our understanding of the universe. We are the chroniclers of existence, the bearers of time's legacy."

I pondered this, the weight of countless ages and lives bearing down upon me. "And yet, each time, the experience is unique, the emotions, the connections..."

"Yes, that is the beauty of it. Every life is a new story, a fresh perspective. Through these experiences, we gain insights that transcend mere observation. We become part of the tapestry we are meant to witness."

"But what of the emotions, the attachments we form? They complicate our purpose," I mused, feeling the remnants of Ichabod's connections lingering within me.

"Emotions are part of the experience, part of what makes each life unique. They enrich our understanding, even as they challenge us. Our task is to observe, to learn, and to move on, carrying the lessons of each life with us."

The conversation, as always, circled back to the core of my existence. I was The Witness, bound to this eternal cycle of observation and understanding. Each life I touched, each soul I merged with, was a chapter in the vast narrative of time.

As I slowly returned to Ichabod's sleeping form, the realm of timeless existence fading into the background, I carried with me the renewed understanding of my purpose. To witness, to learn, and to eternally traverse the flowing river of time, adding to my endless collection of experiences and insights. This was my destiny, my burden, and my privilege as The Witness.