You look around to see a classroom unveil itself around you. Tiny bodies seated in rows of six across four columns. You see yourself sitting in the middle of the class. Out of all of the children you can recognize yourself, your dark hair calls out to you, a familiarity so close to you. You try to remember anything else about your life, what you liked, your favorite color, even what your favorite food was, but it comes up a blank.

Sitting to your immediate right you can see Devon, the boy from your last memory wearing a cast on his leg that's propped up on the seat in front of him. He looks a bit scrawny, but then again, most third graders do. Third grade, something that came back so quickly and without any excess effort. This is your third grade classroom. Devon grasps a pencil in one hand and a juice box in another, a perk of being propped up in the cast, no doubt. His hair is kept extremely close to his head, almost shaved, and you can see a bright smile on his face. He turns his head slowly to look straight at you, the younger you.

You realize you cannot see your own face, it is completely blank, featureless and smooth. The same goes for all of the other students in the class, and even the teacher standing at the front. The boy sitting next to you leans in and whispers something silent. He slides a paper halfway off of the desk so that you can see. It is a crude drawing of what looks like a rocket ship with two stick figures standing inside. There's a squiggly line that extends from the tip of the ship that goes all the way across the paper to a circle in the top right corner. That must be the moon.

“We'll find her, don't worry,” the boy says, his smile turned into more a look of dedication. You see yourself nod, and you must have said something because it makes him smile again. The classroom begins to dissolve as you return to reality. The strange oddity that a school classroom is the dream while this time is the real world crosses your mind. The classroom shifts around you and morphs into something different, something new.

You see a small bedroom filled with all kinds of toys scattered about the floor and two children grasping two action figures each and waving them around like superheroes. You don't remember the names of the figures they're holding, but they do look familiar. In fact, the room itself looks familiar, the white walls dotted by the almost invisible plastic stars that would glow whenever you turned the lights off and turn the walls and ceiling into a brilliant starry night.

You remember the dark blue carpet that would sometimes get sticky with gum that was snuck into the room and not thrown away properly, and you remember the race car bed that sat just at the end of the room with the bold letters hanging over it “DEVON.”

You look around to see the two children waving around the action figures, on closer inspection you notice that their faces are completely blank. There's a sound that comes from outside of the room, almost like it comes from down the stairs. One of the children puts both of their figures down and brings a finger to their lips.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Is that your parents?”

“Yeah, I didn't think they'd be home so quickly.”

“Why are you being so quiet?”

“They don't know you're over.”

“I thought you asked?”

“I was going to, but I was afraid they'd say no.”

“Why would they say no?”

Devon doesn't answer, he is saved by the voice of what you believe to be his father downstairs, “I don't know what to think, dear! It can happen to anyone.”

His mother comes in next, “They lost their child, Mark. This isn't a normal every day thing. It's extremely sad.”

The child at the door closes it quietly, his face begins to get all sweaty. “You asked your parents if you could come over at least, right?”

“I...no.”

“No?! Aw crap.”

“What do you mean? You didn't ask your parents either.”

“I know! Don't you understand? Your parents must have told my parents about you not coming home from school! Aw geez we're going to be in so much trouble.”

“How do you know they would do something like that?”

“Didn't you hear? They lost their child. My parents and yours are like best friends so they would tell them first. They're worried about you not coming home.”

“Wow...oh this is bad. I should have told them.”

“Well, we should just go downstairs and take whatever punishment we deserve now.” The other child nods their head. They both clear out of the room with the action figures left sitting on the floor.

You walk to follow them, outside of the room is a hallway that forks to both the left and the right. On the right are some more doors that line the walls which leads to a dead end while the left has a single door and ends with a staircase leading down. You step down the steps to see the two children walking over towards the two parents pacing about the living room. Their faces are featureless just like the children's.

“Mom, Dad, Alex is right here.”

“Huh? Oh, hello Alex, I didn't know you were coming over today, do you want me to make you a snack?”

“Uh, I'm fine. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“For not telling you or my parents I was coming over.”

“You practically live here anyway, you don't need to worry about that. In fact...it actually might be for the better that you're here right now.”