One

A single Black Dwarf hovered in the centre of the universe, now thoroughly occupied by aeons of afflicting emptiness.

Then inside the dead planet, something clicked into place.

The fuze of the last two silicons happened.

Quantum tunnelig began as the two elements combined. It started morphing, lacing their extranuclear electrons in a swirling storm of dazzeling white as it formed their refinition.

Nikel-56.

It shone a rabid green as it began to declay like it had done a trillion times before, and frozen time once again jolted awake as if responding to the unstable radioactive nuclei, ripping two electrons from its inner surface.

The two animatter postrons went liberate, they did a kamikaze dance as they started spiralling in mid-air, sending off waves of spungeling sparks, and annihalated two electrons that kindled the destruction. The Black Dwalf's surface did a sluggish morph as chasms snaked its surface like aluinum foil ripping apart, and started plummeting downwards as the temperature near absolute zero made an intense increase, soaring up by the sudden impact between the planet's surface, incinerating its compressed interior in a ripple of red.

It let out an imperious howl as it started shrinking. Radiating heat at the intesity of over 1500000 degrees, higher than any White Dwarfs suspending in the dark void in the past few thousand millennias. Space itself seemed to be inclining towards it as it started blending dimensions, extracting everything it could find from the vast emptiness, until everything slowly came to a halt.

Then the orb shone an intense white, followed by a massive corruption as loops of dust and debris catapulted outwards like fragile rings made of glass, glowing auburn and silver. The orb combusted, illuminating the whole galaxy with a lethal, fridgid glow.

As quickly as it had happened, the world again sank into the swelling pond of darkness.

The end of everything. The start of nothing.

The era of Supernova has arrived.

March 7th.

My eyes fluttered open.

It was still 6:40 in the morning. Sitting up groggily, I glanced out my bedroom window. Rain poured down from the gloomy sky above, gathering minimum ponds on the pedestrian street. Wind howled, sendig currents of fresh air into my tiny bedroom. The curtain-like rain and mist obscured my vision, creating the illution of an everlasting alley, shading off the sunlight above. Thunder boomed in the clouds, sending off tendrils of electricity arcing across the sky That reminded me uncomfortably of hands.

"Huh." I murmured under my breath.

It's not odd to rain in spring, spring rains are always welcoming in my dictioary. but something about this rain seemed particularly out of place. Spring rains are irrigating in common, giving off moisture, spreading the scent of freshly overturned soil.

Something about this rain seemd off. It showered down as if someone had pulled out the plug in a bathtub, the world was now a churning pool of water and darkness as harsh raindrops shrouded the sky in the colour of misty grey.

I checked my watch. March 7th. The timing of the first wave of spring rain wasn't too off the mark, but still...

I searched for the previous memories in my head. They seemed to be fully intact, which I was thankful for.

Then from the corner of the room, there came a grumpy meow from behind the stacked-up curtains.

"Oh great." I flug off my quilt and struggled into my school uniform. I never liked its panty-legged design and its yellow-black hue. Schools here definately need an uniform amelioration program. Not that none of the students have ever made recommendations for uniform changes.

"Sleeping time's over, Neko, and why alwals the windowsill?" I heaved a sigh and lifted the curtains. And there, revealed a four legged, soulching-looking furball lolling on my windowsill. It saw me, yawned and streched, hopped down its santuary, and started nuzzling my ankles with leisure purs. During these few years, She somehow gained strong passion towards windowsills, laying its gaze out at randomly passing cars, pedestrians, or even just on old grannys doing T'ai chi in nearby parks can paralyze it for a whole morning's time. It may be strange to ame your cat "cat", but I didn't mind that much.

Neko was a Ragdoll cat, so she's kinda cute staring up at you with those azure blue pupils, but her hunting mode suggested otherwise, as the saying goes, cats are the descendents of the world's most furocious killing machines. Flying all over the place, constantly breaking glass vases and turning the house into a sea of shreds is not what I consider a cute act.

I cautiously retrieved the piece of furry chewing gum sticking between my legs, raced downstairs, made a dash towards the kitchen stove and twisted it on with a click.

It was only a few minutes' time for my fried egg to come out. I wadded up the package of the bread I bought the day before, poured out a bottle of milk from the milk carton, and inhaled my breakfast.

The family photo on the wall glinted in the pale morning light. I never liked that picture, t showed my grandparents both in their old military uniform, standing on either sides of the picture, their silver hair reflecting the morning sunlight, my mom and dad stood in the middle, both in jeans and a fannel camping shirt, my mom flashing her brilliant smile at the camera while my dad struggled to keep baby me still, doing his best to hold me up to the screen. Disliking it was one thing, but it nevertheless acts as a reminder of who I was. Sometimes I woke up to find my memories of the day before vanishing from my mind, which was pretty annoying since I had to trace my steps yesterday on my phone. Memory gaps, I named them, like chasms snaking on my road of life. But considering my school's status quo, that might not be so bad.

Slinging my American-tourister linen backpack onto my sholder, I ignored my stretching and hair-brushing cat on the sofa, grabbed a bag of tissue, plugged on my earphone, and burst out the front door.

My bike was only a few feet from my front door, so it didn't took me much time to unlock my bike and charge into the chaos of raindrops.

The bike wasn't large, just an ordinary bike that could be found anywhere among any bike sheds. Its wheels were etched on the brimms, but its speed still could reach 13mph if I wanted it to. So I raced down the streets with a woosh, the bike's wheels randomly making splashes in puddles of rainwater as it creeked ominous creeks.

Brief introduction. Johnson F Lanyll here, a junior highschool student making the attempt to survive in this belligerent school filled with brutal tests. dark hair, medium height, a face abnormally normal, just the kind of scrawny kid you can find anywhere in school corners. My mom was constantly on business while my dad, well, my dad's sitting somewhere in jail, let's not get into that. That left me with an empty house, a red Mazda MX5, a cat that wants to eat its head off, and a stack of money, which wasn't much after it flowed through the officials. Let's not get into that, either.

Anyway, it was already 7:00AM when I reached school, panting with exaustion. I stopped my bike behind the school building, made the attempt to hide it in the bushes, made sure that It couldn't be found by accident, and trudged towards the school building. My legs felt like led after the 5KM chaotic ride, but I still managed to drag my legs up to the second floor to my classroom.

Voices faltered as I made my enter into the hallway. Footsteps became scattered as students stepped aside to give me a wide berth, as if my whole appearance radiated stench that they could not bear.

So much for a normal easy life.

Like spy agecies, my clamates seemd to know everything, whether you want it or not. It was like they shared an identical web system, ploughing into every students' info, and they'll know who threw a banana peel onto the ground, who fart during lectures, and maybe even knows who wear their underwear inverse to school. So of course, not to get invoved in bullying incidents, they tried their best not to accost targets of street thugs swathing around the school.I couldn't blame them, as thug troubles are the worst troubles.

I made my way towards my classroom for whatever school work that awaits.

The morning classes felt like forever. My stamina ran out faster than expected since the teacher' flat tone never sounded convincing enough. I unconciouly slid into a trance and the rest of the class was all blurry and stuff, at least that's what I remembered.

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The noon break was none the less a blur, I tried my best to inhale the rice and meat I bought in a nearby store in my lunchbox, stacked up a pile of book to form a pillow-sized lump on my desk and began snoring. Since most teachers didn't even care the slightest about me, I slept through the afternoon class. And for some reason, I found the whole lecture thing strangely hypnotic. By the time I regained conciousness, afternoon classes were over. Classmates all went out to hunt for their dinner in nearby shops, leaving me alone in the empty classroom.

The stairs were already emptied out, leaving my footsteps echoing in the hollow staircase. I made my way down, careful not to get slipped over by the newly-cleaned and scrubbed marbels, and started to search for my bike. And there it was, sticking out from the bushes, was a silver bicycle handle. The rest of its body scattered a few feet away, its chains and wheels torn off from the already twisted structure of a bike-like piece of metal. Some skatters of what once might be a gigantic tree branch lay aside, grinning up at me with those fissures in the middle of its trunk.

"Fantastic." I lifted my bike body which layed in the ruins of metal scraps. It made an ominous creeck as I straightened it upright. The front wheel seemd attached. But even if I could link the back wheel back with the chain, the handling part could still be a problem. "Now I got a piece of metal scrap to ride."

So I plugged on my earphone and strolled off, abandoning my bike in the bushes.

The sun tardily stuck itself lower down the mountains in the west, slowly tanning the cotton-like cloud. The road still remained wet from the rain fallen this morning, I inhaled deeply as a wave of sprig breeze swept over, making the trees ruffle.

"Yo Johnson!" A harsh voice came among the buildings, jarring my thought, irritating as ever. "Wa'cha doin'?"

I tried my best to ignore the guy with oversized hoodie and a throat of sandpaper.

His expression told me he wasn't at the mood in joking right now, so I made a detour and joined him under the shadows.

"Cash first, then we talk." The man smiled, showing off his one gold teeth embedded near his left upper lip.

"Price?"

"Fifty bucks, cheap enough."

You could've sound more convincing without your hood shading your face.

"Spare me, my bike just got struck by furocious trees."

"Nah, I'll give you a pass on fourty-eight. I do't wanna get corkscrewed by Leader." He tried to fuse his gaze into mine, which his kind always do.

Whoever that leader was, he's defenately a fan of mine.

"And if not?"

I shouldn't have stimulated him

The shine of his gold teeth retarted a little. as his lips curled into a grin "If you got the guts to, yes. And I think your punishments will soon be on their way."

This is why I said 'Thug probs are the worst.‘ I could've normally slid away with shobby excuses like Oh I forgot my wallet and rush away with some dramatic moves with my bike, but not with the stimulation. Oops, my bad.

Nah I suppose It's still the tree's fault.

"This again? You serious, johnson?" A voice came from my back and I nearly jumped out of my shoes.

Tim has sneaked up apon me again, with reflexes he didn't seem capable of.

"No need to be that complicated." He cracked his knuckles and patted reassuringly on my sholder. "I'll handle this."

Timoralia Husk, alas Tim, is my one and only pal in class. He had provided me with companionship since grade 9, which wasn't long, but long eough to scare off most gangsters buzzing around. He himself was quite straight forward, being classified into 'The best' in our school web, no typical gangsters on the street ever escapes his eyes. Whenever he saw street thugs or anyone that looks like street thugs, he gets paranoid and turned the locale into a pandemonium, which makes it pretty clear what kind of person he is. Tim was friendly in a full-sized grizzly kind of way, his body built like a track-and-field champ, though his portly appearance and his paranormal height hardly remind people of a 9th grader.

I tried my best to glower him down, for which I wasn't very good at, But his anger seemed to retard a little, enough to neutralize the calamitous fate of the street thug, now huddling in the alley corner with eyes saying 'gosh it's a bear' typical type.

"You come again, " Tim glared at him straight in the eye, and he trembled faster. "You'll be squashed into my punching bag."

The gangster fled, forgetting all about the money.

"The fifth time, Johnson. How popular are you?" He raised me an eyebrow.

"I can't run forever. I have to hand in my protection fee or more will come." I said as we backed out of the alley," despite being thakful and all, that is."

Tim sighed and flashed me a smile." Let's run on, then. Won't stop until all evil among buildings exist. It's a win-win."

I wanted to remind him that the phrase 'win-win' wasn't used like that, then thought otherwise and smiled along side him.

"I‘ll go this way, then." Tim waved as I arrived at a crossing. "Take care."

I waved back.

Things were much easier afterwards. Chirping birds, scattered crowds, brilliant sunlight. Too pleasant for a 9th grader who just got out of gangster trouble.

But NOPE.

Then it hit me, an feeling of panic as my brain spasmed. I staggered. Something was near. Too near.

My heart creapt into my throat. my head swam as it started vibrating vigorously voices of rapid chanting reverberated in my head like my head itself had become a massive chamber.

"It's all your fault, Johnson."

A beam of light shrouded me, and my vision became temporarily obscured. By the time My eyes adapted to the brightness, my heart stopped.

A car charged in my direction at a speed of 50mph, making no attempt to stop. Its engine roared. In the beam of light, I could figure out the silhouette of the car, and I was again overwhelmed by another wave of dread.

It was the silhouette of a car that was more than familiar to me.

A red Mazda MX5.

"Again! Jump!”

The world seemed like it was going through a stasis. My senses became sharper than ever. I could sense the curls of steam coming off from the car, the slightest evening breeze. The driver seemd to notice me at last, as he jerked the steerig wheel aside frantically.

Wrong move.

The car lost its balance as its front wheels reered right. It swerved, making a horrid screech, and the whole car toppeled sideways, still hurtling in my direction with enough momentum to crush a bear.

The moment lasted like eternity. My mind started raging through thousads of questions. What will happen to me after my death? Will a Mazda have the power to reincarnate people to otherworlds like trucks in Japan?

"Run! Johnson, RUN!"

Then without asking my permission, the world sped up.

"So This is my death?"

And that was the last thing that ever came to mind.

Then there comes the crash, I was launched into the air like a projectile, and the world started spirallig, tilting to one side aggresively and then upright again like a rollar coaster on a 360 degree slide, becoming a tornado of black, blue and red. I was tossed like a ragdoll as the whole world became weightless like I was enchained no more to Earth's magnetic field. I could sense my ribcage corrupting inside like crunched chips, pain exploded inside me, shooting up my spine and all the way to my cranal nerve with so much intensity that it felt like someone had burried griades inside my every bone and detonated them all at once.

I landed with a thud on the streets and rolled to a stop as the sky began to darken, my limbs felt as if they were filled with cement. My mouth tasted like iron, the humidity approached bathhouse level, or it was just the prosess of my blood choking me to death. I was dimly aware of the overturned car skidding to a holt about 50 feet away as dark smoke curled up from its hood, oil leaking from its gas tank. My ankles bent in unnatural angles as my tenuous heartbeat boomed in my ears.

Footsteps came near. I could sense blood trickling down, slowly gatherig into a pond of red. My eyelids were like led I could no longer feel a thing, and I was thankful for it. A teenager knelt beside me, judging from his height, he was about my age, but his face was hollow, like it has been drawn on by some crazy kindergardener with a black crayon. Or maybe that might just be the side-effect of me blackng out.

Then with the wish that I will never again come to my senses, I let my conciousness go, and the world faded into nothingness.