It rung for three times, vibrated endlessly until the phone dropped itself off the edge of the table. Then the sudden thud brought me to reality. Silently looking over the mountain of paper documents, it became evident that I overworked the night prior. Though, the regular phone alarm left me with an irritation beyond belief.
The phone shouldn’t be too far from here, and I searched it with just my eyes. ‘March 23rd, 6:31am’, the phone displayed the time on the touch screen before I soon turned off the alarm.
The light seeped through the curtains with just enough to light up the room. I got up from the editor’s room, though its damp air left me still tired. Left with just the glow of a phone’s monitor, I unfolded and switched on my laptop. The progress of a manuscript I have read the night prior had no longer existed, and I sighed. I am an author, and so was my dream occupation. Yet, despite that I was left with an indelible boredom that was unquenched.
There was just… nothing I could think of writing about. Therefore, a writer’s block led to be the thing that I could not achieve for. All I lacked was an adventure of the mind, the wandering of a heart; something exciting was missing.
Breakfast wasn’t over complicated. In fact, I left it with just toast and coffee. I did what I did, the same as always of what I would do. I took another bite and sip. Once done, I checked at a nearby mirror. I wore the same navy shirt with jeans, left it that way. The phone just now showed ‘Tuesday, 7:00am’.
Then back at the laptop, I started my sentence.
‘Once upon a certain winter night, a girl…’
Already left with a block of ideas, my fingers stopped and I stare at the screen. My brain flushed empty and I left the desk. I shuffled the laptop into my bag and backed myself up to leave. As the door closed, the sign on the door moved slightly. Then back towards home I go.
7:10am.
As morning rose, stores prepared to open and the sound of traffic filled the roads. The weather was clear as usual, no signs of clouds, though. Though the apartment was just 10 minutes away, I ended up taking a stroll around the streets of my everyday city. Led by a morning breeze, it became a cold morning as usual, and should be. Occasionally that breeze tickles through my loose shirt, and I helplessly was bothered by it.
I sighed, held a thought that, time had passed too quickly. From an office in the city, wandering around the streets, then to a garden café down the alley. I pushed the door lightly through and, as I enter, and the bells jingled, followed by a welcome.
“You’re here a bit early than usual, aren’t you?” a man around his sixties had greeted me; he was the owner of this store, “What do you want this time?”
“The usual, thanks.”
“I’ll be right on it.”
The shop remained almost untouched, though I frequent here. The presence of other customers was lacking, though it always was like this, and should be. Within minutes, he came back, with a cup filled of an espresso. I sipped it, and I looked around.
“How’s things lately?” He would always ask me the same questions.
“Nothing much, surely you’d have a better story than I have?”
“Nah, it’s been quiet around this area, nothing much around here. But-“
‘-I’m glad you’re around,’ he whispered in an inaudible voice that I could barely hear. The damp sunlight that seeped through the stained glass, gave the green beyond a glow of warmth. This feeling still remained to linger in me, unexplained yet felt peaceful. And I take another sip of the drink.
“Sorry, it seems that I gotta go now. See you!”
He smiled, and left behind the counter, so I, too, left.
7:25am.
I heard a scream, so stopped. But there was still silence, surrounded by the lack of people who would have heard it besides me. I do not want to be associated so I leave and I see, that I am already lost within the alleyways. It beat faster, and my forehead covered itself in sweat.
Slowly, I took a gradual turn towards there, towards the dark alley and the mysteries behind it. I took each step with care, and I placed my phone back into my pocket. Around the corner, I see a businessman around his thirties in his suit and the other was a hooded man dressed in nothing but black. The hooded man, as I witnessed, was pointing a pistol at the other man.
The upcoming events seemed evident, and my legs remained stationary. In front of this site, what am I supposed to do? Countless scenarios rushed into my head, and I noticed that my feet and mouth… moved by itself.
“No! Stop! Don’t kill-“
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It just ended with a bang, with I, who witnessed a murder, dropped to my knees. The bullet reached the chest, and red tainted his shirt from the chest.
I can’t say anything for that moment.
“What the hell!” I shouted, without thinking. The culprit noticed soon, dropped his weapon and ran away. I ran towards the victim who was now already on the ground. I checked all over his body, and he remained unable to respond.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
My hands reached out, unbuttoned his scarlet shirt, that revealed his almost featureless chest. But the hole punched through the centre, bursts out with dye. My palms lightly covered the wound and gently pressed it. No beat.
He passed away.
And the echoes of the gunshot reached somewhere, to someone’s ears. I quickly grabbed a phone out of my pocket. ‘Police’ would be right choice of contact this time. As I turned to see my surroundings, I stopped; someone else had already made a call to the police before her; a witness who had came here by the sound and now saw Delia right next to the corpse, hands stained with blood and a gun laid right next to her.
“That’s… not me.”
I glanced to the murder weapon.
Besides her was another man, around her age, who saw me do so. His voice hesitated, rushed towards me almost instantly. He knocked me back, left a thud against the wall for me, and he followed with a grip that locked me still and restrained. My arms could no longer shake it off.
“Call the police!” The man yelled, directed to her, “Quickly!” The woman hesitated; her hands pulled out the phone closer to her ears. The trembling of his arms became evident, and I understood their misunderstanding. I, who was here at the scene, became already accused of a crime I have not done.
“I didn’t…” My voice wavered, could not persuade them. There was no reason behind the stopping them; the voices of a ‘murderer’ shall not be reached to. I sighed. They no longer listened to my words, so I became a culprit, despite having never murdered before.
The circumstances of these events that occurred just shifted a little too much against me.
7:30am.
Then, I do not know. We stopped, and it reset, and started again.
6:31am.
And it rung three times. The sudden thud from my phone brought me back to a reality that awoke me. The surroundings proved to be Eric’s office, so I probably overworked again. That mattered nothing though, if I did not end up with any real motivation nor progress. As so, I checked my laptop once again. Somehow, words were present on the document from last night.
‘On March 23rd 7:27am, a murder occurs.’
“What?”
On a document which I had expected to contain no words, were those words that were not expected, nor would have typed. I slowly picked up the phone I held not long ago, and started to call. On the desk before me, the sign read words of ‘Editor - Eric E. Smith’.
“Ugh, Delia?”
His voice breaths though the speaker, but already with the annoyance with the timing. I glanced at the phone briefly.
“Eric, you haven’t touched my document last night, did you?”
He sighed, “I told you, come back with more progress then I would probably bother viewing your work, otherwise I would usually focus with the other works.”
Then the statement ends with a lasting beep marked the end of a digital conversation. It left with a lingering confusion, but if anything, this place was unsuited.
I shuffled the laptop into my bag and backed myself up to leave. As the door closed, the sign on the door moved slightly. Then back towards home I go.
7:10am.
My stomach growled not long after I departed from the office, I sighed, then took another detour that led me towards that café. Down the alley was a café enveloped by its own nature; a small green amongst the alley. I pushed the door lightly though and, as I enter
I sighed, held a thought that, time had passed too quickly. From an office in the city, wandering around the streets, then to a garden café down the alley. I pushed the door lightly through, as I enter, and the bells jingled, followed by a welcome.
“You’re here a bit early than usual, aren’t you?” A man around his sixties had greeted me, “What do you want this time?”
“The usual and maybe a pancake on top of that.”
“I’ll be right on it.”
As I waited, I searched around the room. The natural light seeped through here, evoked a sense in me. Near the counter, was a picture of the two of them, Aiden and him; son and father. As I looked back down, the words begun to etch itself on the desk.
‘The murderer is ____.’
“How’s things lately?” He surprised me with the usual questions as he served the espresso cup in front of me. I took a sip, but he knew nothing wrong with the desk.
“Come to speak of it, have you been receiving strange messages recently?”
“Might I ask what happened?”
“Well, just this morning I’ve read some weird things. I thought it was a prank at first, but these messages have been appearing quite often.”
“Ah, I see. You better be careful nowadays to not get into trouble.
I picked up the fork and stabbed it into the pancake, chewed on a bite.
“Anyways, at least you’re safe,” he jokingly continued, “It’s been quiet around this area so you’re like the only customer.”
The damp sunlight seeped through the yellow, though shadowed his face. I took the final sip of the drink.
“That being said, it seems that I got to go now. See you!”
He smiled as I packed up to depart, so he, too, left.
7:25am.
I heard a scream, so I stopped and I see that I was already lost within the alleyways. But I could only stand and see, as words weaved themselves onto the wall, like graffiti blended into concrete walls. They were words broken incomprehensible of their context, yet I could only take more steps words them.
‘A man in full black clothing…’
‘…will be framed for murder at 7:34am’
‘Man screams out in fright…’
‘...will be murdered.’
‘killed via pistol.’
‘runs away, dropping the…’
…save him, but too late.’
‘I wanted to… prevent this.’
They were incomplete, but they point towards a place. As I took more steps into the alley, I could hear a faint argument. I released a breath that I never knew I held. Disturbed by the atmosphere by a feeling called dread, I could only approach closer. Despite knowing that I would inevitably encounter a murder in moments soon, I had a desire to be there. The odd sense of déjà vu pulled me towards them.
Around the corner, the small argument started to get slightly louder, the one of the two started to raise his voice and pulled out the weapon. The other hesitated and I knew it would happen any instant soon.
“What the fuck!”
My legs moved on its own, and I helplessly ran and attempted to restrain him. I held my grip on to his wrist, pointing it away until he dropped the weapon. He shifted, and the hood fell off. I saw his face.
***
And now for the punchline for this chapter, the culprit was café owner.
3:43pm.
As I scroll through the newsfeed of the mobile social media, I was reminded of this incident. It had seemed that two months flew past and his sentence was determined and since then, the garden café no longer existed.
‘This just in: Café owner, Mike Williams, have been imprisoned for up to ten years over the attempted murder of Daniel Dantes, CEO of Dantes Pty. Ltd.-’
My fingers stopped scrolling through the article, and my eyes found itself locked on to the names that triggered a faint familiarity.
‘Daniel Dantes…’
Then I recalled when everything went wrong.
And it reset, and started again from five years ago.