It seems like only moments ago I was whisked away. Off into the reality of my past, the reality of my future. But not, the reality of my present. I left the present, stole it from my own grasp, gave it to someone else. A little boy it was, sitting on the street as they do, crying. They all cried. Why wouldn't they when they knew they would never experience life like they we do. They would never get to slip into their life once they died. This was boy was one that would be born again, another life he would have to suffer on the many he had already bore. There was only one way to change it, to take this boy from his written fate. He needed a life. So I gave him mine. I took his hands in mine and smiled, he tried to protest, for my new fate would be worse than his. But I was firm, and grazingly I gave him my present. The present now he would live in, till his death came when he was let to wander the Otherlife. Where there was no bad. I would get no such sanctuary. Eternity would allow me to wander my past, and to wander to future I would have gained. It was for me to mourn what I had lost, to punish me for touching the book of fate. But I will not let myself mourn, when there is one less boy crying out there. That at least, is what I tell myself.
Today I was diving through the sea, letting the water run through my hair. It felt cool, a difference to the sun that splashed onto my face as I surfaced for air. I flicked my head to let the water roll from my eyes, blinking in the shoreline. It was close. My companion waited upon there. In this moment, I questioned how this past could make me mourn, how it could not be wished for instead of feared. I pushed my arms through the water, allowing my feet to match their motion. I never made it to the shore. It came in suddenly, shrouding my sight in an instant. There was nothing left, nothing, not darkness not light, nothing. The memory though remained. This was what happened when one touched fate; to suffer forever in the memories of the past and future, only to return to nothing. Regret. But it was not regret, it was so much more than regret.
I walked through the nothingness, there was little more to do. Walking, sitting, either way it would be the same. Yet I had my saviour. The little boy, whose name I knew not, who somewhere out there was living the present I gave him. The knowledge of my deed let me gain an escape. An eternity it would be that I would wander this place that held such fear it had no name. The only way out was to die. But it was impossible to die here, when there was no means. To wrap the hands tight around the throat was a simple thing. Difficult though, no matter how hard you held, to die. It wouldn't let you. Death did not exist.
I was taken to my future on this day, walking through flowers. There was a meadow amongst my feet, petals grazing my knees. I hoisted my white chiffon dresses up above the stalks, feeling the wind brush the veil against my back. Around my sat smiling guests, before, a smiling man staring lovingly at my grace. Recognisable. He took my hand, lifted the veil from my face, and two words slipped from his lips; 'I do.' But I never got to make my agree. The nothingness grasped me as a hungry predator, I, it's deserving prey. I was left to revisit my actions, to take strength from that which I had done. I flickered to the boy, the crying boy who had yet lived so many lives. How terrible a fate it was that his had been. But why had I felt pity for him? Others I had seen, who held the same future as him, others I had heard cry out in anguish. But this boy was different. He had not acted differently, he was just different.
It was the past that entered me as I toiled. I was as a child, standing by the bedside of a young man. My brother. He was stroking my hair as the tears dripped onto his hand. So comforting. 'You'll join me one day.' He said, and I nodded, knowing that I would. The machine continued to beep beside him. "It'll be for the best you know." I nodded again; it was all I could do. "And we will meet again." I nodded, no longer in time to the now silent machine. He never kept that promise. I was pulled from the memory as the thought slipped through my mind, and in a moment it was forgotten as I forced the boy in. This boy with brown hair, with fair skin and soft blue eyes. I could remember every drop of his face, as if it were mine.
And then I was stolen away again. But to where? My future I knew it was not, my past it could not be so. I was watching, not there, not really. There was an old man, staring softly at a young woman, breathing hard. She was looking at him, pleading it to not be so. But his time had come. Just after a son was born. Closer now. A teenager was running, speeding through the streets with an excited expression on his face. Cars stopped as he cared not to look as his feet trampled across the road. He was running to his sister that had just been given her first life. Closer again. There was a boy, walking around the way, not caring where he passed. Slowly, a tear caressed his face, and he stopped, overtaken by the feeling inside him.
I knew who he was. A grandfather, a son, a brother, a stranger. All one. Suddenly I was gripped again, flying through the place. And I knew where it was that I had landed. The present.
There was a man standing there, a solid expression covering his face. I recognised him as he flitted into my sight. A husband. Here this boy stood, older now, but still young. Four lives I knew him from, no longer a stranger. He lived my present, but not my future. A knife lay against his hand. I saw it as it glinted against the sunlight that dappled in from the window. It rose in his grip, stopping against his heart.
This was who I had given my present to, who I had given all to. And there was no regret, as I saw the smile that came across his face. There was no longer any reason to mourn.
The knife slipped purposely from his hand. And this man, who had looked at the pleading eyes, who had ran amongst the streets, who had protested against a young woman. This man who had once lain to the beeping machines, kept his promise, and rewrote the book of fate.
He killed himself. He killed my present. He killed me.