The Realm's

I was about to go to my warm, soft bed in a cold winter night when I hear something. A voice was calling to me. The voice was saying, “Eve. Come here, and let me tell you what you must beware of.” I tried to ask the thing where it was, and it said, “I am where your father died.” I quickly got out of bed, and ran to the car. I wanted to drive there right away, but knew it wasn’t safe since I was only fifteen. I decided to run, but quickly regretted it. About fifteen minutes in, I started panting. I forgot how far away the grave was. I finally got to the grave, and tried to find this anonymous person. I found the thing, and after our short, well long conversation, I got scared of everything. The world felt like it was collapsing on top of me. All the sudden, a ringing came to me, then for a split second, I thought I might die. 

I took in what the thing told me, and all I could think was, oh no. He told me what would happen after the last bell strikes twelve on New Year’s Eve. He told me that I would be standing with my friends, goofing around, and when the last bell rings on New Year’s Eve, I would collapse on the floor dead in the real world. I would still live my wonderful, not really, life in a different world.

My mom suddenly called me, “Eve! Come down right now! School is about to start.” I grumbled in disappointment. I hated school more than anything. The only thing that I liked at school were my friends. I thought, what will they think when they notice me dead on the last stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve? I suddenly wanted to go to school. I needed to spend as much time with my friends as I can. 

After the last day of school for me- the last day of school until January sixth for everyone else- I counted up the hours I spent with my friends for that month, and the sum was fifty nine hours. I was happy with that. My life was finally getting to use, being a real friend. 

The things I did on Christmas were, go to my father’s grave yard, have dinner with my friends, and take several naps. Taking naps where what I promised myself to do when I “met” the thing or person. I wanted to learn more about the strike of twelve from that anonymous person. I wanted to have that dream all over again in a time that never stops, ask as many questions as I can, and receive as many correct answers as possible. I bought as many books on the quantum realm and the multiverse as I could.

All the eleven, short naps, all of them did not work. One of the dreams where pink fluffy unicorns dancing on mermaids. After that try, I finally gave up. Who wanted to see pink fluffy unicorns dancing on mermaids? Every nap I took, my friends saw, and every time, I thought of an excuse. I’m tired...I didn’t sleep well last night...who cares. All the excuses hurt me. I was lying to one of my only kinds of friends I will ever have, good ones. 

The day after Christmas, the twenty-sixth, I finally had a dream when the man reappeared. I asked him all the questions that came to mind, including who he was. I begged and begged, and what felt like thirty minutes, he finally answered. He said he was my father from the dream realm. I thought, yes! I don’t need to ask him what realm I’m going to.

 I asked him everything he knew about the different realms, and he answered, “ All I know about these realms are that there are seven different realms. The dream realm, which I’m in, the soul realm, that your grandfather is in, the mind realm, the power realm, the time realm, the emotions realm, and the space realm. The people that have been “naughty” go to the power realm, the people that die before fifty go to the dream realm, and the people in the soul realm have been like angels. That is all I know about the different realms.” All I replied was,” Thank you.”

My mind was swirling, no, dreaming. All the information swirled like a cloud getting mixed. I had no plans of what I should tell my mother. She would be so depressed, she would want to kill herself. I don’t want to die at such young age, on of my thoughts took over. Another one fought, which realm am I going to be going to? My father always called me an angel, but I also would have died before fifty like my father. All the thoughts came together with one, how will I die in general? 

New Year’s Eve was coming, what will I do when it does? I wanted to just live. My life before ten was wonderful. My father was alive, I did gymnastics, and piano for fun. It all happened when I turned eleven on the strike of midnight on New Year’s Eve. They took my father. All the sudden, the thought came to me. I will die on exactly my birthday. That happened to my father, and my grandfather died on my dad’s eleventh birthday. That is the strangest thing. Two generations in a row, in the same family, of father’s dying on their children's eleventh birthday. I will break that chain by dying on my fifteenth birthday.

One day to my death, and a new year. What will I do with the rest of my life? I know, I will find out why things like this generations situation happens to families. My best friend's cousin’s father did the same thing, and she was born on New Year’s Eve, too. I just made the connection. What if everyone who was born on New Year’s Eve died on their eleventh birthday? Now it is a minute away from New Year’s Eve countdown. 

10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...thump.