Categories > Original > Mystery > Truth, Lies, and Rebirth
Truth, Lies, and Rebirth
0 reviewsIt's about this girl who dies and wakes up in another persons body. Her first reaction is to find her grieving boyfriend and convince him she's still alive but while dealing with that, it appears t...
0Unrated
Prologue
My eyes flickered open to the sight of creamy pale blue texture adorning peach-colored walls. Not the idealistic choice, but whatever, it obviously wasn't my place to judge. Where was I anyway? It'd felt like ages since I last opened my eyes, sympathetic to the feeling of being hit by a truck. The bed rustled as I adjusted myself into a sitting up position. However, as my vision cleared to a susceptible 20/20, something suddenly didn't feel quite right.
The first change I noticed were my hands. They looked strange, much smaller and paler than mine were. There was also a puncture wound on the right hand index knuckle. The outside was painted with purple and blue bruises. Not to mention, the nails looked like they'd been chewed to the bone. At that moment, I experienced the eerie sensation behind the reason for my sudden memory loss.
Across the room, directly diagonal from the bed, were broken pieces and shards from what would appear at one time to be a mirror. I could see a tiny glimpse of a reflection and my heart beat started pounding as I allowed myself to scoot off towards the end of the bed. Swallowing, I reached the pale and damaged hand towards the most notable of mirror shards, before pulling it back towards me.
In that instant, the memory of last night calibrated itself inside my mind, piecing together the facts and the truth that hit me harder than the fist that punched the mirror. The person in the mirror was definitely not me.
________________________________________________________________________
Joel Warner didn't get out of bed that day. In fact, it had been two and half days since he'd even gone outside for a breath of fresh air. The windows in his house remained shut for the two preceding days since Elaina's funeral. It felt like a hole had been ripped through his chest cavity. He didn't understand the reality of what was going on. How could this have happened to her? Even worse, who would've wanted this to happen?
Things weren't falling into place and it seemed apparent that he was probably just being delusional due to his grief. But he didn't really care much, he just wanted his life to go back to the way it used to be. Why did life have to be more complicated?
Joel shivered despite his mound of blankets, before rolling over, his matted brown hair poking out from beneath the covers.
He wasn't sure how long he stared at the wall, the floor, or even the ceiling but time itself felt rather foreign to him. Everything that wasn't her just seemed strange in general though it's no surprise that everything in his room stored a memory of before. Hell, he thought to himself, everything in his life stored some sort of memory of her.
Snuggling closer to his pillow, he remembered how pretty she looked when she smiled. Elaina had always been beautiful. That was her gift -- the unnatural beauty that had befallen her.
She had oceanic eyes that always reminded him of summer, with their mixture of blue and brown. Her hair was a shade of blonde, though not the kind that looked artificial. She had a radiance about her, and her hair simply brought out the enthusiasm in her personality. Her facial expressions were the thing to got to him though. He remembered every detail in her contour lines like the look she made when she was moody or upset. There were moments where he couldn't even explain the feeling that brushed through him every time those eyes looked up at him with even the tiniest hint of worry.
It must've felt like he'd been given an angel in those glorious three years that they'd been together. So now, as he found himself a grieving (almost) widower, he tried thinking of ways to contemplate some sort of motivation for himself in order to get up and make himself some breakfast.
Tugging off the remnants of blankets from the bed, he slowly raised himself, remaining cautious of the decreased sunlight in the room that temporarily blinded his potential pathway to the kitchen. Passing through the hallway, he paused to get a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror on the left side of the hall. His usually exuberant chestnut-colored eyes were now bloodshot, dark bags dominating the majority of his face. The normally clean cut all-American boy image he'd taken pride in was now lost behind brisk five o' clock shadow and the shaggy side mop he'd attempted to call hair.
He coughed before he furthered himself now into the messy middle-sized kitchen that conquered the space of his one bedroom studio apartment. It wasn't quite luxury, but he liked to consider it home. He'd lived here since he moved out of Boulder, Colorado nearly eight years ago. He'd been young, considerably a mature 18-year-old, moving out into the Denver region on his own straight out of high school.
By this time in life, he'd been looking forward to moving towards the next step in his life --you know, getting married, having children, getting a successful career. He'd finally proposed to the love of his life, only to lose her to a tragic accident nearly a month later.
Elaina's funeral was only two days ago, but it still lingered fresh in his mind. He still felt the aching pang in his stomach that carried to reality of the situation. He wanted to pretend that it wasn't true. As cliché as it sounded, in his mind, he really just wanted to move on but he just couldn't imagine how life would play out.
Perhaps, he had changed as a person due to this experience. He'd thought about the positives, but they still refused to register according to his conscience. Would Elaina have wanted him to move on? He couldn't think of a logical answer to the recurring question because the logic tended to contradict itself. It'd be selfish to try to hold on to a memory, but at the same time, it'd be immature to allow your life to be interrupted by something that happens everyday.
Joel shook his head, mentally insisting on just not thinking about anything. 'Just make your breakfast,' he told himself, failing to acknowledge the sound of a knock at the door.
My eyes flickered open to the sight of creamy pale blue texture adorning peach-colored walls. Not the idealistic choice, but whatever, it obviously wasn't my place to judge. Where was I anyway? It'd felt like ages since I last opened my eyes, sympathetic to the feeling of being hit by a truck. The bed rustled as I adjusted myself into a sitting up position. However, as my vision cleared to a susceptible 20/20, something suddenly didn't feel quite right.
The first change I noticed were my hands. They looked strange, much smaller and paler than mine were. There was also a puncture wound on the right hand index knuckle. The outside was painted with purple and blue bruises. Not to mention, the nails looked like they'd been chewed to the bone. At that moment, I experienced the eerie sensation behind the reason for my sudden memory loss.
Across the room, directly diagonal from the bed, were broken pieces and shards from what would appear at one time to be a mirror. I could see a tiny glimpse of a reflection and my heart beat started pounding as I allowed myself to scoot off towards the end of the bed. Swallowing, I reached the pale and damaged hand towards the most notable of mirror shards, before pulling it back towards me.
In that instant, the memory of last night calibrated itself inside my mind, piecing together the facts and the truth that hit me harder than the fist that punched the mirror. The person in the mirror was definitely not me.
________________________________________________________________________
Joel Warner didn't get out of bed that day. In fact, it had been two and half days since he'd even gone outside for a breath of fresh air. The windows in his house remained shut for the two preceding days since Elaina's funeral. It felt like a hole had been ripped through his chest cavity. He didn't understand the reality of what was going on. How could this have happened to her? Even worse, who would've wanted this to happen?
Things weren't falling into place and it seemed apparent that he was probably just being delusional due to his grief. But he didn't really care much, he just wanted his life to go back to the way it used to be. Why did life have to be more complicated?
Joel shivered despite his mound of blankets, before rolling over, his matted brown hair poking out from beneath the covers.
He wasn't sure how long he stared at the wall, the floor, or even the ceiling but time itself felt rather foreign to him. Everything that wasn't her just seemed strange in general though it's no surprise that everything in his room stored a memory of before. Hell, he thought to himself, everything in his life stored some sort of memory of her.
Snuggling closer to his pillow, he remembered how pretty she looked when she smiled. Elaina had always been beautiful. That was her gift -- the unnatural beauty that had befallen her.
She had oceanic eyes that always reminded him of summer, with their mixture of blue and brown. Her hair was a shade of blonde, though not the kind that looked artificial. She had a radiance about her, and her hair simply brought out the enthusiasm in her personality. Her facial expressions were the thing to got to him though. He remembered every detail in her contour lines like the look she made when she was moody or upset. There were moments where he couldn't even explain the feeling that brushed through him every time those eyes looked up at him with even the tiniest hint of worry.
It must've felt like he'd been given an angel in those glorious three years that they'd been together. So now, as he found himself a grieving (almost) widower, he tried thinking of ways to contemplate some sort of motivation for himself in order to get up and make himself some breakfast.
Tugging off the remnants of blankets from the bed, he slowly raised himself, remaining cautious of the decreased sunlight in the room that temporarily blinded his potential pathway to the kitchen. Passing through the hallway, he paused to get a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror on the left side of the hall. His usually exuberant chestnut-colored eyes were now bloodshot, dark bags dominating the majority of his face. The normally clean cut all-American boy image he'd taken pride in was now lost behind brisk five o' clock shadow and the shaggy side mop he'd attempted to call hair.
He coughed before he furthered himself now into the messy middle-sized kitchen that conquered the space of his one bedroom studio apartment. It wasn't quite luxury, but he liked to consider it home. He'd lived here since he moved out of Boulder, Colorado nearly eight years ago. He'd been young, considerably a mature 18-year-old, moving out into the Denver region on his own straight out of high school.
By this time in life, he'd been looking forward to moving towards the next step in his life --you know, getting married, having children, getting a successful career. He'd finally proposed to the love of his life, only to lose her to a tragic accident nearly a month later.
Elaina's funeral was only two days ago, but it still lingered fresh in his mind. He still felt the aching pang in his stomach that carried to reality of the situation. He wanted to pretend that it wasn't true. As cliché as it sounded, in his mind, he really just wanted to move on but he just couldn't imagine how life would play out.
Perhaps, he had changed as a person due to this experience. He'd thought about the positives, but they still refused to register according to his conscience. Would Elaina have wanted him to move on? He couldn't think of a logical answer to the recurring question because the logic tended to contradict itself. It'd be selfish to try to hold on to a memory, but at the same time, it'd be immature to allow your life to be interrupted by something that happens everyday.
Joel shook his head, mentally insisting on just not thinking about anything. 'Just make your breakfast,' he told himself, failing to acknowledge the sound of a knock at the door.
Sign up to rate and review this story