little-written-soul-blog

[little-written-soul-blog]

The heartfelt stranger, and the price he paid!

In 2016 a teenager named Amelia Price lives-streams her makeup tutorial and Outfit of the Day, starting off the stream with her signature opening line “Hello, my lovely audience!” 

Her 50,000 followers flood the comment section with love, appreciation, compliments on her beautiful brown eyes and flowing golden locks. 

Amelia smiles as she reads the comments, narrating everything she does, and offering the public responses to their compliments with heartfelt gratitude. She replies to their criticisms with witty remarks and a crinkle to her nose. 

Nobody watching would guess that her next live-stream wouldn’t be so happy, and Amelia wouldn’t be responding with smiles and witty remarks, but with tear-stained cheeks and a thickness to her voice. 

On Friday, July 15th, Twelve-o-clock midnight, Amelia goes live. 

The usual straight, boho style locks of her hair are messy and carelessly tossed in a bun. Her beautiful doe eyes are lined with redness and yet-to-be shed tears. She wears no makeup, and her Leopard-print pajamas are wrinkled with past sleep. 

Within fifteen minutes of being online nearly 50,000 people are watching her, asking her if she is okay, asking if she needs to talk about something in private messages with somebody. Several users mock her, taunting her to ‘just kill herself already’ if she is that sad about something. 

Amelia stands from the computer chair unexpectedly and picks up a robe, tied into a noose, she holds it between her hands and a desperate sound escapes her lips as she finally says something to the people watching. 

“You’re right, I should just kill myself already. Nothing is worth living for anymore.” 

She tosses the rope up and over the beam of the tilted roof, stepping up onto the computer chair to fasten the rope to the beam. 

The comment section is blowing up with comments, with people begging her not to do it, with people asking where she lives so they can call the police, with heartless sociopaths egging her on. 

Amelia Price wraps the noose around her neck and utters her final words, her eyes focused on the suicide note neatly sitting on the desk. 

“Goodbye, my lovely audience...” 

She then steps off the chair.

Halfway across the world, in the year 1999, a traveler named Gerard Macobe steps off a bus, expecting to bask in the mid-afternoon sun, but instead he steps into the 16-year-old girl’s room -- in front of the increasingly large audience. 

Immediately he notices Amelia Price’s lifeless body hanging from the ceiling of the modestly sized, pastel-colored bedroom. Her lips are blue and her eyes are still open, staring lifelessly at him as he runs towards her. 

“Hey, hey can you hear me? Don’t worry, I’m going to get you down, you just stay with me okay!” He hollers. 

His trembling fingers struggle to undo the noose as he holds her body up, the beating of his heart practically audible -- adrenaline running through his veins like blood. All that Gerard can think about in this moment is saving this girl, his greater threat -- exposure of his ability -- is unknown to him. 

A frustrated sound leaves his mouth as he continues to struggle. “Come on!” He growls, an overwhelming sense of dread creeping up his spine. 

This woman needs to see a Doctor immediately, and I can’t even get the stupid noose off of her neck! He thought just as the noose unraveled and Amelia fell completely into his arms. 

Quickly he sets her onto the ground and checks for a pulse. 

It’s there, but it’s faint. 

Gerard pulls a cellphone from his pocket and dials 911. 

After just two rings somebody answers the phone. “911, what is your emergency?” 

Gerard speaks so quickly that he fears the woman doesn’t understand him. 

“I need an ambulance immediately! A girl, maybe sixteen, tried to hang herself!” 

“I need you to give me an address,Sir.” She tells him with a warm tone, patient.

He gingerly lays Amelia’s body down, standing and quickly crossing the bedroom.

Gerard desperately searches for a piece of mail with the address on it, coming up empty at first, and then exhaling with relief when he finds a college flyer that was sent in the mail. 

“The address is 2127 Maple Wood Drive, please hurry! She has a pulse, but it is faint.” 

He hangs up the phone, and returns to Amelia’s side, checking for her pulse again -- just to be sure. 

He sighs in relief when he feels the rhythmic bumping against his fingers.

Gerard’s head is drawn to the computer on the desk when he hears the ping of an instant message. What the devil is that? He asks himself.

He approaches the computer to figure out what is going on, his eyes widening in horror when he sees his face mirrored on the computer. A webcam! How long has that been recording the events in this room? 

Gerard quickly turns the computer off and then paces the bedroom anxiously. 

What are the chances that thing was recording when I time-jumped in here? He asks himself, the dread from earlier is back and it brought a friend -- fear. 

If people know about travelers, they will loose their minds, and they will demand things of us, things we cannot deliver, or maybe it will be worse than that. 

Maybe they will just kill all of us, effectively wiping out the traveler race, and damning any future supernatural race trying to coexist with humans. 

They are after-all intolerant by nature, they fear what they cannot explain, and god help you if you are stronger than them... 

Gerard’s inner monologue was cut short by the sound of loud knocking, quickly followed by a bedroom door being opened and then shut quickly -- footsteps descend the stairs. 

Time to leave, I can monitor the situation from afar. He tells himself as he stands and exits the bedroom through the open bedroom window.

A week passed, and Amelia Price survived her suicide attempt, she has been transferred to the local Psych ward, where she is recieving top professional help for severe clinical depression. 

As for our hero? 

Well, he erased all evidence of his arrival in the year 2016, but lost his life in the process. His family mourns his loss, but honor him as the savior of the traveler’s and their secret.

© Little-Written-Soul

[little-written-soul-blog]

but old wounds had to be ripped open, and I bled all over him.

Accalia and The Wolf, a novel by me.