Memory Dump Part 2

I finally was able to free up some time to actually be productive. For the past few weeks, I've been busy with real life. Learning Adobe Illustrator really is taking my time. I haven't been checking on some websites that I frequent either. But at least I have already replied to letter from my penpals. Yes, I still like sending letters to my penpals from other countries. Majority of my penpals are from Japan. The rest are from Europe countries and America.

Anyway, here is the last part of the story that I made. I actually know where this is going, but I don't have the time to do it. I am focusing on another story that I'm writing. I want to finish that first. So I don't think I can continue this story. But if you want my idea, I can tell you. Or if you just want to continue this story with your own perspective and idea, then be my guest. Italicized font is where the story starts.

I run out through the door and into the streets. The streets are always busy, and yet, strangely, there doesn’t seem to be anyone around. In fact, I don’t even see stray dogs or cats roaming the streets. The streets were so full of those annoying creatures before. I run to one of the houses on the street and try knocking on the door, but no one answers. I try the others as well but it is all in vain. I run to the local supermarket, but it’s empty. No one ever comes in or out. I’m starting to feel like a zombie on an empty planet. Why is there no one around? Is there any logical explanation to this phenomenon?

Having nothing to evaluate the situation that I’m in, I resolve to walk aimlessly along the empty streets, looking for any sign of life. It’s like everyone disappears without me knowing anything. The first place that I want to check is the graveyard just to see if there is any mass grave because everyone died at the same time. Along the way, I don’t see a single soul. I don’t hear any sound except for the sound of my own footsteps. It’s deafening against the still atmosphere. I check my watch and as expected, it’s still stuck on 5. It’s unnerving, and I don’t get nervous often.

I reach the graveyard at the edge of the town and what greets me is a grim, empty place. I predict this already, but I can’t quite remember if the graveyard is as dark as this. It’s as if there’s an aura of darkness enshrouding the graveyard. It’s like day outside, but when I step a foot inside the premise of the cemetery, it’s as dark as night. I’m contemplating whether I should go further inside or just bail out. My brain tells me to stop and step outside, but my instinct tells me to go and take a look inside. Just a little bit. If there is anything strange, I can just run.

Curiosity gets the better of me, so I gingerly step inside the cemetery. But now I find that it’s not as easy to run away as I expected. Once I’m completely inside, my whole vision is immediately consumed by darkness except for the outline of every gravestone. I can barely see anything, not even the street from whence I came from. It’s like I’m in an entirely different dimension. Only that this seems so real and it’s happening to me. Never in a million year that I’ve thought that this is possible. But I guess that my fate is a weird one and it’s playing with me.

I suddenly hear the sound of bells ringing in the distance. I decide to approach the source of the sound. Maybe I will find the answer for this maddening situation that I’m in. A trickle of sweat  runs down my back. I realize that I’d never been this nervous before. I’m usually someone that you’d call a calm and level headed guy. I do get nervous sometimes, yes, but I can always work things out and reason calmly with my mind. But this is entirely different. It’s extraordinary. I’ve never been in this situation before or even heard of people in the same situation that I’m in now. It makes me feel hopeless and helpless.

I still hear the tinkling sound of bells, but it’s getting louder. As I get closer, I see a small wooden hut. It looks like it can break down at any second. Around it, there are torches burning dimly, giving an eerie glow. The bell are attached on the ropes enjoining the torches. Even though there is no wind, the bells seem to be moving on their own accord.

The wooden staircase creaks noisily as I step on it. I fear that whoever or whatever is inside the hut will hear the noise that I made. I hope that anything that’s inside the hut is not hostile towards intruders like me. I reach the door and open it. Not surprisingly, it’s dark inside. This is just too surreal. Surely this can only happen in horror movies. I still can’t accept that this is my reality. I’m deciding whether I should go inside or not. I peer into the darkness.

“I’ve been waiting for you, young man,” a voice calls out from inside. I’m startled. The voice sounds human enough to me. But I’m cautious. Voice can be deceiving. I don’t want to step inside until I’m certain that I’m out of danger. A small figure walks unsteadily to my line of vision. I finally can see the figure who called me out before. It’s an old man with silvery long hair with an equally long beard. His moustache is hanging low and covering his lips. This old man is bushy. I can’t clearly see his face through all those extra hair. Even his eyebrows are long and thick. A wooden cane is supporting his weight. This kind of man looks like he’s straight out from comic books.

“Who are you?” I ask, squinting my eyes. I don’t know if I look intimidating enough, though I hope I do. But I can’t deny that I have sweaty palms and cold sweat trickling on my face.

The old man just eyes me, sizing me up and down. “This is your reality, embrace it, young man,” he answers vaguely. He taps his cane on the floor gently. It oddly reminds me of the sound of the bells. Why does it sound so nostalgic? Almost as if I've heard of this before, but I can’t place where. Some memories are running through my head, but almost all of them are indistinct. It’s like a bad tape with blurry visions and static noises.

I gasp, waking up from my slumber with such intense force that I stand up. All eyes are focused on me. “What’s the matter, Touma?” the math teacher asks, stopping in her track. She looks at me with a worried expression on her face. I look around me, lost for words. Was it all just a dream? It feels so real. 

And that's the end of the story. I'd like anyone to adopt this story because I'd hate this story to go to waste. I can always help with the story if anyone is interested, but I'm not always online. I can be reached through Lemmasoft Forum though.