A Written Philosophy

The chains were cold and dull, leaving a small trace of rust on his skin. As I was being escorted to the wagon I couldn't help thinking how the other timelines would have ended. Maybe the true suspect would have been in the same situation as I am now, or maybe someone would have died just as intended. "Can you loosen my shackles?" The officer just stared at him with a vaguely dead looking face. "Never mind"

1933, London, Lively drive

The roof is usually where I go to think about new projects for the science committee, it helps that I have the stars to look at and admire the distance, velocity and shock it can give a person to know how unreachable they are. There was one that was particularly interesting, it seemed as though it was strafing towards me at incredible speed. The light was leaving traces of some kind of dust, a space dust if you will. It was truly an amazing sight. "The moon was shining bright enough to see the darkened city glowing a faded white. There was a commotion happening about a block away from me, and then gunshots struck the air, penetrating the sound barrier with a loud bang. I nearly fell off my chair, and my telescope barely missed the antenna. I peered the other side of the roof to have a closer look and I saw a man on the ground bleeding and crying for help. I quickly ran to the entrance of the stairs, pushing away a stray cat holding a brown paper bag sprayed with blood on it. I thought it was strange and wanted to take it away from him to see what it was, but I was in a hurry to save the poor man.

I reached the bottom section of the stairs when I heard another gunshot; I paused. "Should I go out there or call the police?" I didn't have time to make the decision. I was closer than the police so I opened the door and ran to the corner of the street. The lights were flickering in a very strange manner, as if it was Morse code. When arriving to the corner I stopped, crouched behind the conveniently placed mailbox and took a look at what was happening. It was a cold and starry night, but the seconds seemed to slow down and time came to a screeching halt. There he was, lying there on the ground, dead. "Should I run?" There was no one nearby; the police could think that I did this. Speak of the devil; I could hear the sirens a few blocks away. I took a last look at him and then ran back to my apartment.

As I was hiding there, the police were just outside the building investigating. I tried to act normal, as if nothing ever happened. Then I thought that it would seem more innocent if I went outside to see what the commotion was all about. So optimistically I left the apartment and stood by the spectators. Some were journalists taking photos, and others were plain shocked with fear. A tear shed down my frightened face as I saw the man's family mourn and shout to the sky. It was a painful experience to have observed the death of someone and then watch his family stare at him as though to have been shot in the chest themselves. One of the policeman looked at me and I froze with fear. He came towards me slowly while whispering something on his radio. Anything and everything was going through my mind; my lower lip started flapping around, up and down, riddles aside I reside in darkness, fearful and still. "Hello sir" "Hi" My eyes couldn't stay on him, I was too intimidated. "Do you know this man?" "No" "Well, did anything strange happen before you got here?" I didn't want to lie, but I knew deep down inside that regardless of what I said he would take me away. "No"

The officer stared for a while at the surroundings trying to map out what happened. He paused with his eyes wide opened. "What is it?" He didn't answer me; he just hurried himself over to the sidewalk, close to where I was hiding. I felt very nervous at that moment. He crouched and passed his finger through what looked to be a small puddle of blood. I don't remember that, but then again I was really concerned with that either. I was a little disgusted when he smelled, and then tasted the liquid. To my concern, the officer stated that the puddle of blood matched the blood from the victim. My mouth fell to the floor when he said that. It seemed a little strange that he would be able to determine that, but still.

That couldn't have been the same blood stain I saw the cat had going down the stairs, could it? I was frightened but still there was a part of me that wanted to find the truth of this murder. I slowly walked back to the apartment, but the policeman came back, and this time with a stirred face. "Have you seen anything strange or curious around these parts?" All I needed to do was continue the lie and I was free, but for some strange reason I didn't. "Yes, there was a cat with a stained paper bag on the roof of my apartment" "What were you doing on the roof?" I paused, maybe for too long. "Come with me" "No!" I ran for it. The cops tried to surround me, running with all their might, and me with mine. "Get back here!" "Just keep true" I thought to myself.

There was an alley way, but I wasn't ready to take the risk of them catching me. As I was turning around the corner, over shooting my house so they wouldn't know where I lived, there was a blinding light that practically lifted my feet from the ground and I fell down onto the chair of my roof. There was a helicopter shining one of the brightest lights I've ever seen before. "It was a dream" I was extremely relieved. Relaxed in my comfy chair, the loud noises were distracting me. I peered over the roof wall to find a bunch of policeman surrounding a body. The screams of the family was similar to my dream. Then I saw a man being chased by the cops across the corner, but seconds after they did a bright light shined curving around the side of the building. I had no words to describe what I was feeling at that very moment. It was tiring for the eyes to glare. The helicopter was passing by with the infamous bright light overhead. As I was looking at it, there was a soft "purr" down on top of my feet. It was the cat, holding the brown paper bag with blood spatter on it. I was ready to pounce and take it away from him, but he dropped it and ran off down the stairs. The bag was lying there on the floor, in silence. There was a little figure sticking out, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to see it. Somehow I found the courage to open it. To my surprise, a gun had fallen out; a 9mm pistol. Minutes passed without a single sound; I was feeling a little moist on the shoulder. There was blood dripping down my shirt onto the clean paper bag. It was stained with my blood.

Something weird was going on, and I was scared and with all my heart wanted to escape this world. A paradox that I've created, has finally come back to create me. I was part of a game someone else planned. It was all clear to me now; the paper bag with my blood on it, the man running from the cops, and the man being shot. It was me. "But who was the shooter?" As I asked myself that very question the bright light came back to me.

"Are you alright?" asked the doctor. "Where am I?" The man explained to me that I was in a hospital, and that I've just came out of a two year Coma. I started breathing harder and harder with each breath. It was the most disturbing thing to have ever happened to me, and there was no possible explanation to prove it was real. I looked to my side to stretch my neck; after all I've been in a coma for two entire years. Doing so, the cat was staring at me in a very menacingly manner. I screamed saying "Get rid of it!" "Get rid of what?" I was confused. "Of the ca…" He wasn't there anymore. Sitting there weeping and grinning thinking that it was a bad nightmare, some policeman came in the room and said "It's time to go" "What!" I couldn't do anything about it; I was chained down to the bed. They switched the chains to the ones the cop was using.

The chains were cold and dull, leaving a small trace of rust on his skin. As I was being escorted to the wagon I couldn't help thinking how the other timelines would have ended. Maybe the true suspect would have been in the same situation as I am now, or maybe someone would have died just as intended. "Can you loosen my shackles?" The officer just stared at him with a vaguely dead looking face. "Never mind"

I looked over at the wagon once more and saw a man smile. As I was entering the vehicle, that man whispered "The perfect crime, Mr. Crazy" Hell wasn't as pleasant as jail, but the time I had to think was unbearable, as well as relaxing. Maybe I was crazy, or maybe it was what I wanted all along. I later realized that the man leaning on the wagon was never there. He didn't exist. He was but a figment of my imagination. He was me.