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- 07/25/2021
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Rocky Prompts, Tennessee - 2. Prompt 774 - Proper Path
Damn, I’m tired!
After a tiring week at the factory, I knew I needed to break the monotony. Work, take-out, home, pajamas, and bed. That was the routine and if it happened one more time, I thought my brain would explode.
The neon sign caught my attention, but I already passed it. Murr’s. It was the newest sports bar in town, and from what my coworkers have said, it was worth every penny. Jim couldn’t shut up about their cheese curds.
Let’s do it. I circled the block and turned into the bustling parking lot. Even from the cab, I could hear the bumping music. The place sounded more like a club than anything. Checking my wallet, there was just enough cash for my typical tip. I leave my beater, lock it, and head to the entrance. The moment I touched the door handle, the music stopped, along with my heart.
Swallowing my nerves, I continue forth. Still spotlights of blue, red, and green colored the walls. The televisions halted, as if the satellite suddenly lost signal. What the hell is going on?
What frightened me were the patrons. Every man, woman, and child’s eyes stared at me with furrowed brows. I turned and saw more irritated faces. No. They’re angry! The more I looked, the more I thought my soul was in peril.
“What—”
“Jeez! What the hell are you doing here?”
The voice sounded more angry than the customers. In search of the origin, I look towards the back of the crowd. Only one body was moving, and it was heading my way! “I, uh… excuse me?”
“You are so not excused!”
The man got closer, and my heart took another nosedive. His hair was different, and he didn’t have any glasses, but it was unmistakable. Sporting a thin chin-strap and mustache, the short man’s bulkier build and exquisite dress clothes came into vision. So did his scowl. “You are not supposed to be here! Why did you deviate?”
“You’re… you’re me!”
The doppelganger rolled his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.
His? Mine? Yeah, his.
After a hardy sigh, he holstered both hands on his hips, “Duh! You’re lucky I was paying attention. If I didn’t stop time, the TP would have sicced every one of these water sacks on you.”
“Whoa, TP? Toilet paper?”
My copy mumbled to himself, “Stupid humans… no, the Time Police! It’s an automatic detection program for unplanned time flaws. You were supposed to keep driving home, but for some stupid reason, you came here.”
It was my turn to scowl, “I wanted to sit down and have a nice dinner. I’m not supposed to do that?”
“You can, but it has to be planned. The next scheduled time for you to step foot in here isn’t for another year and a half! You had plans to come here after the initial hype died down. That’s what you do, Aaron! It’s what you’ve always done!”
I turned again to the death stares. They weren’t staring directly at me, but towards the door. They locked onto me when I touched the door. “So… if you weren’t here—”
My doppelganger crossed his arms, “They would have ripped you apart, limb from limb. The TP would’ve come, paused time, wiped your body from existence and everyone’s minds. You would’ve just vanished from the history of time.”
My breath caught. Unable to articulate my emotions, I pulled an empty chair and sat. Blinking several times, I looked to my obviously superior self, “Then who are you.”
“I’m your Time Guardian. Every human gets one, but not all of them are as productive as me. What we aren’t told in our education is when our human dies, we die.” He rolled his eyes once more, “So do me a favor and quit trying to be happier. It’ll get you killed.”
With an outstretched hand, my clone snapped his fingers.
***
Damn, I’m tired!
After a tiring week at the factory, I knew I needed to break the monotony. Work, take-out, home, pajamas, and bed. That was the routine and if it happened one more time, I thought my brain would explode.
The neon sign caught my attention, but I already passed it. Murr’s. It was the newest sports bar in town, and from what my coworkers have said, it was worth every penny. Jim couldn’t shut up about their cheese curds.
Maybe next time.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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