All I heard was an explosion, and then I was consumed by fire. But before all that happened—right after I had just scored the girl I'd been crushing on since second grade as my girlfriend, without even going through the long, draggy process—I have to admit, I was planning on asking her out anyway.
I had already planned all the possible scenarios in my head, and in every single one of them, she accepted. I know it sounded like a long shot, but for some strange reason, I didn't feel any doubt or negativity that she would say no.
I guess I could say I had one hell of a belief.
After the untimely incident, I don't think my mind fully processed what had happened. To me, it felt like a dream—one I was certain I'd snap out of any second now.
Everything was completely dark. I felt like I was still alive, but it was as if my flesh was gone and only the spectrum of my soul—or spirit, whichever I had—remained.
I could hear myself breathing steadily, my heart beating wildly fast, as though what I had experienced was nothing more than one of those nightmares that start as beautiful dreams.
Everything feels perfect, you're living in that exact moment, and then suddenly it all fades—like a memory being erased or washed away.
Then boom.
The nightmare comes.
That's exactly what it felt like.
I kept dragging myself back to that perfect moment of my life before everything turned sour. I convinced myself that the dream was so amazing that I had tricked my mind into replaying it over and over again.
Everything was perfect. I lived through that moment again and again—especially those final seconds when there was no one else around. Just me and Amber, finally alone.
But here was the strange thing about this so-called dream.
Every single time Amber left my side and was just about to disappear from sight, I heard a beeping noise in the background—like a timer, maybe from an oven or something similar.
And right after she was gone, the sound would grow louder. Louder. Like a bomb about to go off.
As it intensified into a blaring alarm, I would turn around—something I hadn't done in real life.
And every time, I thought to myself:
What is that?
The second I turned, I didn't see an oven timer. I didn't see an oven at all—or maybe I just didn't have time to see it, because the moment I tried to investigate, the explosion would happen.
Whenever I snapped out of it, I'd find myself gasping for air. I wasn't sure if only seconds had passed… or minutes.
This was psychological torment at its finest.
I think I finally realized that it was all too good to be true—too good to be real.
So slowly, I began searching for a way to escape this loop. As beautiful as it was, it was getting out of hand.
What is happening to me?
Why can't I get out of this dream?
I tried to move my body, any part of it, but it felt stiff. Nothing moved, no matter how hard I tried.
The only thing functioning properly was my mind—and it was busy tormenting me.
Maybe this was a lucid dream.
The kind you can't escape, where you feel every second and think you're really there.
If that was the case… what if I tried to move in this dream?
Would it work?
I steadied myself, focusing on the possibility.
There was only one way to find out.
Since nothing else was happening, I decided my only task was to keep my breathing calm and steady—and somehow stop my brain from going berserk.
I didn't know if that was even possible, but I didn't care. I had to try.
To my surprise, it worked.
My breathing normalized, and my thoughts began to clear.
Poof.
I was back in that moment again.
Not knowing if this would be the last time I experienced it, I didn't want to risk ruining it. So I relived every second. And even though I should've been used to it by now, it still felt new.
Everything played out the same way—until Amber left my sight.
Now was my chance.
Here goes nothing.
This time, it felt different. It felt real. No—it was real.
I looked down at myself and saw… me.
I was wearing the same clothes: a white T-shirt with the name of the university I was going to, dark blue denim jeans that made me look like a rock star from the early 21st century, and black sneakers stained with red punch.
Everything was normal.
Amber waved goodbye as she walked away.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
There it was again.
I had already lived this moment thirty-two times. I knew I had to be smart if I wanted this to work.
So I turned a second earlier than I usually did.
Only to find myself paralyzed—numb and stiff at the same time. I didn't even know if that was possible, but here I was, experiencing it.
What the—?
Why can't I turn my neck?
I tried again and again, but nothing worked. My neck refused to turn toward the source of the beeping.
Yet when I moved it in any other direction, it worked just fine.
Eventually, I gave up and faced forward.
That's when I saw my hands rising.
I wasn't sure why—or whether I was even controlling them—but they lifted up in front of me… and froze.
Then things got worse.
I watched my flesh disintegrate.
It was as if my skin was peeling away, changing color, like I was being burned long before the explosion ever happened.
Oh my God!
I panicked in disbelief.
Suddenly, my neck could move again.
I took the chance and looked toward the source of the sound.
I don't know if what I saw was real, but I think I finally saw it—an oven.
And a timer.
I also saw a misty, dark hand. I couldn't see it clearly, but its long claws were unmistakable as it turned the timer to zero and opened the oven.
The explosion followed.
Before the flames consumed me, I raised my head—and saw it.
Something I had never seen before.
Something that was definitely not human.
It smiled at me.
Then it wiggled its fingers in farewell.
And that was it.
Everything went completely dark.
And just when I thought it was over…
It was only the beginning.
I gasped, like I had just woken up from a nightmare—or a coma—only to realize I wasn't in my bed.
Or a hospital bed.
"Congratulations, milady. You have just given birth to twins," a woman's voice announced excitedly.
Everything was blurry and dark. I couldn't see clearly.
Now I realized—I was one of those twins.
"The second one is a beautiful, healthy b—"
She never finished.
Something interrupted her.
Not someone inside the room.
Something far away.
And then—
Another explosion.