The man looked at his watch, tapping his foot in impatience. Of all of the things that he hated in this dimension, it was their concept of time. It seemed that things were always running too late, too early, or not at all. It was what made this dimension so messy, so...disorganized. In his dimension, the flow of time was perfect. Everything arrived on the dot when it was supposed to, and everything was perfectly organized. Why couldn't they be like his people? If this dimension had at least a general sense of time, maybe he could live with it. The man sighed. The boss would surely ground him for making such an accusal, seeing as he was from this dimension-where Terra-Nova was called "Earth". What an utterly ridiculous name! It had no scientific meaning, no Latin route, and certainly no underlying definition. No, these homosapians simply picked a name they thought they liked. Ugh, what a disgrace! At least he didn't have to live in this dimension. All of this he was contemplating when the bus finally arrived.
"Great," he muttered, getting up from the bench. "Took you long enough." The driver opened the door, and almost immediately the man was bombarded with smoke. Ugh, even more gross! The man coughed vigorously and shoo-ed the dreaded substance away from him. Inside, the driver lit a new cigarette.
"Are you coming on?" She asked, annoyed, "Or are you just gonna stand there?" Right then and there the man would have transported her to the Uticrique dimension, but it was banned to do so by this planets ruling. With a forced smile, the man walked on the bus, and the doors closed.

Before I start this story, I have a question to ask you: have you ever had someone or something you can't get off your mind? As in, no matter how much you bang your head against the wall, blast music in the car over and over, or even try to sleep it off; they (or it) just won't go away? I mean, usually the person (or it-again) isn't really important to your life in any way shape or form. It's just some random person that gets superglued to your skull for a few days, weeks, or even months. Well, in my case, I was about to receive that person as a gift.

It was summer, and with the temperature rising well over 100 degrees, I was happy to sit in my cool air-conditioned house while the rest of my family went to the beach. It was pretty normal for me to just sit around and stay home while my family went somewhere. One time, I even stayed when they went on vacation. I guess I was just one of those nonchalant, sit-in-the-house-and-do-nothing-at-all kind of guys. Anyways, I was enjoying the peace and quiet of sitting in my cool room and playing with these spinning top toys when outside, I heard a sound like gunfire.

"What the he-" I ran downstairs and grabbed a gun, not daring to look out the window to see what was happening. More shots were fired, and I heard the sound of a girl yelping. Still, I crouched behind the door. Some more shots, then suddenly, all was quiet. My breathing slowed as time seemed to stand still. Then, without any shots fired, I heard a scream that haunts me to this day. It sounded from another world, a different dimension, chilling my spine to the core. Ok, that was it. Time to stand my ground and be a man! Taking a loud cliche gulp, I screamed a rebel yell and kicked my front door open.

Standing there, not two inches separating our noses, was a man. He was tall, so very tall, his chest rubbing against my face. His large brown trench coat was the only thing I noticed before I screamed as loud as I could and ran inside. I raced upstairs, hid in my room, and locked the door shut; praying my hearts loud beating wouldn't give away my location.

Sitting there, praying to god, I heard the front door squeak shut. Footsteps sounded coming up the stairs, and hitting the top one. I clenched the gun tighter, thinking of how I could escape-out the window...ok, so that was my only option. carp, it was two stories up! Even if I did jump I would-I heard him, right outside my door. I saw two massive feet through the crack and stifled a scream. This wasn't fair! I was too young to die! Let me at least reach 16, get my drivers license, move out of the house...anything! I could plead for mercy, beg to be spared, pray he would have pity-the handle began to jiggle. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! I didn't want to die! I slowly backed away, raising my gun. Ok, at least I might be able to fire before he does. If I can jus-the door slammed open, and, screaming a hair raising scream, I fired the gun. However, I wasn't expecting recoil, and I suffered for it. I was thrown across the room, still screaming, and hit the wall head first. In a daze, the last thing I saw was the man standing over me, blood pouring from his left ribcage. Somehow, it miraculously stopped and he pulled out the bullet. Was I dreaming? Right before I blacked out I noticed one thing-he didn't have a gun.

I felt something slide into my mouth, like sand. Was I at the beach? People should be more careful where they throw their sand. At least be considerate to those relaxing! I knew I shouldn't have picked this spot. People kept throwing sand into my mouth, and I tried to spit it out. It's not my fault I didn't go to the beach! My fami-wait, I didn't go to the beach. I was at home, and attacked by a trench coated figure. So where was I?

Lifting my hands, I rubbed my sore temples and blearily opened my eyes. Blinking, I tried to focus on my surroundings and get a feel for my location. I was lying down somewhere comfortable, on a bed. It was soft and plushy, and I rolled my head over on it's side. I captured a glimpse of long curtains before more sand was kicked into my throat. Coughing, I spluttered the minerals out and sat up straight.
"What the heck?" I exclaimed, rubbing my tongue to get rid of it. "Why would you put that in my mouth?" I lifted my gaze upwards, and saw a dreaded face: Trench coat man. In one hand was a bottle of some strangely labeled medicine, and in the other a spoon full of the red substance. His stone face stared me down the throat, and, before he knew what was happening, I slapped him. It was the best I could do at the time, because no other weapons were available. I mean, the spoon may have been good, but I wouldn't have been able to grab it before he suspected something. I could have used surprise, but...you get the point.

"You!" I yelled, scooting away from him. "Why am I here, why are you here, who are you, where am I, what time is it, and what the hell is this place?" He was quiet for a minute before responding in a gruff voice, "It's a long story." Another silence passed, and I stared at the man, his bald head reflecting off the ceiling. The light was bright, and I considered asking if he waxed often. Instead, I thought better of myself and let the thought pass. A minute passed, and still neither of us talked. Two minutes. Five. Almost ten, before he cleared his throat. "Why were you all alone?" He asked. "Why weren't you with your family at the beach?" How did he know all of these things? I narrowed my gaze at him, then sighed.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." I said in a simple voice. "And my business is my own."

"An excellent reply." he commented, pouring some of the red powder on his spoon. "Here, swallow this. It will help your thread." I remembered back to when I fired the gun and hit my head. Pain, immense pain. It still throbbed, but I knocked the stuff away. I couldn't trust this guy, and I was ready to make a run for it.

"I can't trust you," I stated, staring right through his sunglasses (Which he really didn't need, seeing as it was indoors) and into his grey eyes. "How do I know that's not poison?" He laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh; and smiled.

"Well, why don't you find out?" Ok, that was it. This guy was probably some serial killer who kidnapped teenagers and tortured them for fun. Then he would feed them poison and finally kill them. No. Not me!

"Not on my watch!" I shouted. And in one fluid motion, I swiveled my legs around, slugged him in the nose, kicked off the sheets, located the door, and sprinted for it. My legs were really wobbly, and I was hyperventilating, but he made no effort to get up and follow me. Instead, he sat there and called to me.

"You will learn soon enough," He yelled. "That I am a friend, and I'm here to help you realize your full potential." I made it to the door, opened it, and ran outside into the night. As I took off towards where I believed home to be, I heard his voice in the distance. "We will meet again," he called. "For fate is not one to be denied."

I was completely out of breath when I reached a police office. It was a small, brick building next to a gas station with a store. Food. In agreement, my stomach rumbled in pain, and I felt weak. Man, I was hungry! Quickly, I checked my pocket for cash. $135, all wadded up neatly in a thin rubber band. Huh, that was funny. I had never saved that much in my life.

After consuming a bag of funyuns and a coke, I walked over to the police station, already feeling better. I quickly explained my situation, leaving out the part about the guy saying things to me as I left, and they let me call my mom. It was a few rings before she answered.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded shaky, and she was sniffling.

"Hey, mom. Are you Okay?" A scream for joy was followed by a burst of tears on the other end. It was a few minutes before my mom responded again.

"Oh my god, Daniel! Are you alright? Where are you? Don't ever leave me like that again! You had me worried sick!"
She continued on like this for a while before she let me talk. When she stopped, I told her the exact same story I told the policemen, and gave her my address. It was a few minutes before she picked me up.

A month went by. Then 2, then 3. School started up again, and freshman classes proved to be a lot more difficult than 8th grade. I started up track again, and got my learners permit. I managed to keep in touch with my friends, and did well in my classes. For a while, things seemed to be normal again.

You really didn't expect that to last long, now did you?

Before I start this story, I have a question to ask you: have you ever had someone or something you can't get off your mind? As in, no matter how much you bang your head against the wall, blast music in the car over and over, or even try to sleep it off; they (or it) just won't go away? I mean, usually the person (or it-again) isn't really important to your life in any way shape or form. It's just some random person that gets superglued to your skull for a few days, weeks, or even months. Well, in my case, I was about to receive that person as a gift.

It was summer, and with the temperature rising well over 100 degrees, I was happy to sit in my cool air-conditioned house while the rest of my family went to the beach. It was pretty normal for me to just sit around and stay home while my family went somewhere. One time, I even stayed when they went on vacation. I guess I was just one of those nonchalant, sit-in-the-house-and-do-nothing-at-all kind of guys. Anyways, I was enjoying the peace and quiet of sitting in my cool room and playing with these spinning top toys when outside, I heard a sound like gunfire.

"What the he-" I ran downstairs and grabbed a gun, not daring to look out the window to see what was happening. More shots were fired, and I heard the sound of a girl yelping. Still, I crouched behind the door. Some more shots, then suddenly, all was quiet. My breathing slowed as time seemed to stand still. Then, without any shots fired, I heard a scream that haunts me to this day. It sounded from another world, a different dimension, chilling my spine to the core. Ok, that was it. Time to stand my ground and be a man! Taking a loud cliche gulp, I screamed a rebel yell and kicked my front door open.

Standing there, not two inches separating our noses, was a man. He was tall, so very tall, his chest rubbing against my face. His large brown trench coat was the only thing I noticed before I screamed as loud as I could and ran inside. I raced upstairs, hid in my room, and locked the door shut; praying my hearts loud beating wouldn't give away my location.

Sitting there, praying to god, I heard the front door squeak shut. Footsteps sounded coming up the stairs, and hitting the top one. I clenched the gun tighter, thinking of how I could escape-out the window...ok, so that was my only option. carp, it was two stories up! Even if I did jump I would-I heard him, right outside my door. I saw two massive feet through the crack and stifled a scream. This wasn't fair! I was too young to die! Let me at least reach 16, get my drivers license, move out of the house...anything! I could plead for mercy, beg to be spared, pray he would have pity-the handle began to jiggle. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! I didn't want to die! I slowly backed away, raising my gun. Ok, at least I might be able to fire before he does. If I can jus-the door slammed open, and, screaming a hair raising scream, I fired the gun. However, I wasn't expecting recoil, and I suffered for it. I was thrown across the room, still screaming, and hit the wall head first. In a daze, the last thing I saw was the man standing over me, blood pouring from his left ribcage. Somehow, it miraculously stopped and he pulled out the bullet. Was I dreaming? Right before I blacked out I noticed one thing-he didn't have a gun.

I felt something slide into my mouth, like sand. Was I at the beach? People should be more careful where they throw their sand. At least be considerate to those relaxing! I knew I shouldn't have picked this spot. People kept throwing sand into my mouth, and I tried to spit it out. It's not my fault I didn't go to the beach! My fami-wait, I didn't go to the beach. I was at home, and attacked by a trench coated figure. So where was I?

Lifting my hands, I rubbed my sore temples and blearily opened my eyes. Blinking, I tried to focus on my surroundings and get a feel for my location. I was lying down somewhere comfortable, on a bed. It was soft and plushy, and I rolled my head over on it's side. I captured a glimpse of long curtains before more sand was kicked into my throat. Coughing, I spluttered the minerals out and sat up straight.
"What the heck?" I exclaimed, rubbing my tongue to get rid of it. "Why would you put that in my mouth?" I lifted my gaze upwards, and saw a dreaded face: Trench coat man. In one hand was a bottle of some strangely labeled medicine, and in the other a spoon full of the red substance. His stone face stared me down the throat, and, before he knew what was happening, I slapped him. It was the best I could do at the time, because no other weapons were available. I mean, the spoon may have been good, but I wouldn't have been able to grab it before he suspected something. I could have used surprise, but...you get the point.

"You!" I yelled, scooting away from him. "Why am I here, why are you here, who are you, where am I, what time is it, and what the hell is this place?" He was quiet for a minute before responding in a gruff voice, "It's a long story." Another silence passed, and I stared at the man, his bald head reflecting off the ceiling. The light was bright, and I considered asking if he waxed often. Instead, I thought better of myself and let the thought pass. A minute passed, and still neither of us talked. Two minutes. Five. Almost ten, before he cleared his throat. "Why were you all alone?" He asked. "Why weren't you with your family at the beach?" How did he know all of these things? I narrowed my gaze at him, then sighed.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." I said in a simple voice. "And my business is my own."

"An excellent reply." he commented, pouring some of the red powder on his spoon. "Here, swallow this. It will help your head." I remembered back to when I fired the gun and hit my head. Pain, immense pain. It still throbbed, but I knocked the stuff away. I couldn't trust this guy, and I was ready to make a run for it.

"I can't trust you," I stated, staring right through his sunglasses (Which he really didn't need, seeing as it was indoors) and into his grey eyes. "How do I know that's not poison?" He laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh; and smiled.

"Well, why don't you find out?" Ok, that was it. This guy was probably some serial killer who kidnapped teenagers and tortured them for fun. Then he would feed them poison and finally kill them. No. Not me!

"Not on my watch!" I shouted. And in one fluid motion, I swiveled my legs around, slugged him in the nose, kicked off the sheets, located the door, and sprinted for it. My legs were really wobbly, and I was hyperventilating, but he made no effort to get up and follow me. Instead, he sat there and called to me.

"You will learn soon enough," He yelled. "That I am a friend, and I'm here to help you realize your full potential." I made it to the door, opened it, and ran outside into the night. As I took off towards where I believed home to be, I heard his voice in the distance. "We will meet again," he called. "For fate is not one to be denied."

I was completely out of breath when I reached a police office. It was a small, brick building next to a gas station with a store. Food. In agreement, my stomach rumbled in pain, and I felt weak. Man, I was hungry! Quickly, I checked my pocket for cash. $135, all wadded up neatly in a thin rubber band. Huh, that was funny. I had never saved that much in my life.

After consuming a bag of funyuns and a coke, I walked over to the police station, already feeling better. I quickly explained my situation, leaving out the part about the guy saying things to me as I left, and they let me call my mom. It was a few rings before she answered.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded shaky, and she was sniffling.

"Hey, mom. Are you Okay?" A scream for joy was followed by a burst of tears on the other end. It was a few minutes before my mom responded again.

"Oh my god, Daniel! Are you alright? Where are you? Don't ever leave me like that again! You had me worried sick!"
She continued on like this for a while before she let me talk. When she stopped, I told her the exact same story I told the policemen, and gave her my address. It was a few minutes before she picked me up.

A month went by. Then 2, then 3. School started up again, and freshman classes proved to be a lot more difficult than 8th grade. I started up track again, and got my learners permit. I managed to keep in touch with my friends, and did well in my classes. For a while, things seemed to be normal again.

You really didn't expect that to last long, now did you?