So I was in a bit of a morbid mood...

Written 2012.01.07.

Timothy Hawkins had led a normal life. Born to a loving home, he grew up with little drama, and graduated high school at the middle of his class. Regrettably, when Timothy was twenty years old, he died in a tragic car crash.

His life was not over, though. Timothy awoke after the accident in his childhood bed, in his childhood room… in his childhood body. At first, he'd believed he was in some twisted afterlife.

It took less than a week for him to realize that he wasn't dead. He was in the past, living his life again from when he was five years old.

He was scared, at first, until he began to realize the possibilities. He knew what would happen in the future, maybe he could change something! He could save lives! And he couldn't forget about bets: he could make so much money!

'This is so awesome!'


"Timothy, you're just full of smiles this morning!" Mrs. Hawkins said, placing a bowl of cereal in front of her son.

Timothy grinned. "I guess I'm just really excited, Mom."

Mrs. Hawkins smiled, disregarding her son's sudden change from 'Mommy' to 'Mom'.


"Are you alright, Timothy?" Mrs. Hawkins asked, placing a bowl of cereal in front of her son.

Timothy shook his head. "I feel a bit nauseous," he admitted.

Mrs. Hawkins frowned, and went to find a thermometer. She idly wondered when he learned what 'nauseous' meant.


"Timothy, dear, what's the matter?" Mrs. Hawkins placed a bowl of cereal on the counter as she rushed to comfort her son.

Timothy shook with sobs. "Mom… I'm scared! I'm so, so, scared!"

Mrs. Hawkins enveloped her son in a hug. He must've had a nightmare.


A high-pitched scream pierced the air, awaking Mrs. Hawkins immediately.


She leaped out of bed, not even bothering with slippers as she raced to her young son's room. She

Timothy lay sobbing in his bed. Mrs. Hawkins had never heard such heart-wrenching, guttural cries before in her life.

"Timothy!" she cried, rushing to her son's bed. "Timothy, oh no, what's wrong? Timothy? Timothy!"

"It never ends!" he shouted through his wails. "It never ends! Help me, please, help me!"

She tried to untangle her son from his sheets, while whispering, "Timothy, it's alright… it was only a dream, shh…"

But Timothy would not stop sobbing, even as nonsense words began to spill from his mouth. "November twenty second nineteen sixty-three president assassination May eighteenth nineteen eighty volcano eruption September eleventh two thousand one attack twin towers-"

"Timothy, please, listen! Everything's alright! You're at home, please, stop!"

Her husband appeared at the doorway, having awoken as well. "What happened?"

"Call an ambulance!" she shouted, nearly hysterical. "Call an ambulance, or something, I don't know! He won't stop screaming! Just please, do something!"

One thousand

Mrs. Hawkins sighed, staring at the untouched bowl of cereal sitting on the counter. Timothy never slept in this late, preferring to wake just as the sun rose.

She opened her son's bedroom door, peeking inside. "Timothy? Timothy, it's time to get up."

Timothy did not move.

Mrs. Hawkins moved to wake her son, reaching out a hand to his shoulder. "Timothy?" She rolled him over and froze.

Timothy's eyes were wide open, staring blindly at the ceiling.

Mrs. Hawkins gasped. "Timothy!"

Her son didn't respond.

He never would.