WokrZ: New Discoveries

You were brought up to school by the short faded yellow bus that you always took during the day. As you get off you see the huge building in front of you. It was a 3-story, white brick, with concrete walkways and benches, the trees were beautifully pink and petals were slowly falling; people were coming in and out of the front doors. As you walk up to the blue front door and grab the handle that had turned silver from wear and tear. When you open the door, twelve people walk past you, bumping you from side to side, once they subside only 3 people are in front of you, two males one in a yellow sweatshirt and blue jeans, crossing his arms in disappointment named Jason, and the other who is in crutches, with a plaid flannel, a 'Aliens are among us' shirt with slacks on who was Max, and a female who is wearing a black shirt, gray jacket that looks too big on her, she is also wearing skinny jeans. She wore them like she was showing something that wasn't there. When you walk closer to them, the girl runs at you and hugs you, when you pry her off, Max and Jason start talking to you in a disappointed tone.

"Why did you do that?" said Jason.

"What did I do this time to piss you off?" You say with irritation.

"You are dating her again?" Blurted out Max while pointing at the girl who was now on her phone.

"What is wrong with dating her?" You say now getting agitated.

"This is Mary we're talking about, a cheater, liar, and someone who has dated almost everyone at this school, and we just started the second trimester of our senior high school year. And to put salt on the wound, she dated and cheated on you 7 times. Why are you still 'Giving her a chance' when she has hurt you more than anyone else?" Max says with a growing frown and hurt in his voice.

"I just can't. I can fi-" You start to say but get interrupted.

"YOU CAN'T FIX HER! She is past that point." Max and Jason yell in unison.

"But I can."

"You can't"

"I can"

"Can't"

"Can"

At this point, both Max and Jason are done arguing with you. "Fine, try again, but don't come crying to us when she does it again or you get beat by a new Jock boyfriend again."

As the bell rings, you walk away frustrated and annoyed thinking to yourself *I don't need them, what do they know?* Down the hall, the walls are white square tiles with indents on the corners to make it look like squares, the floor is dark spruce wood. An office to your right, and a cabinet of trophies to the left that go to the corner, all from the early two thousands. As you take a left, there is a staircase on the right and the media center in the center with a "Keep Going Class of 2018" banner strung overhead, as you go upstairs and do a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn. As you finish walking up the stairs and look around; 6 classrooms, two on your right and four on your left with two spaces for studying that can fit 15 people comfortably each, one on the other side of the stairs and one in between two classes. As you take a left to your class, you see a group of 4 people packing up their stuff to get to class, there is also a rolling whiteboard on the side of it. The chairs are soft and you can lean back on them. As you pass the first class on your left, there are science posters and an Albert Einstein painting on the wall. You always wondered why he is so important.

When you get to your classroom, you pull a paper out of your pocket and make sure this is the right room. *140, 41, 42. Ah, room 143* By the time you got to your classroom, the second bell had already rung, making you late for class.

As you walk into the classroom, the teacher looks at you. You knew this teacher from last trimester; when you were falsely accused of having stolen from the school. His stupid smug look and smile are all you need to say "Nope" and walk away, but you need the credit to graduate.

As you sit down, the teacher stands up, walks to the whiteboard, and starts writing. His hand, as white as a canvas glazed over the board, his light blue jean jacket blowing in the sudden movements and his legs; in dark green pants running across the sides of the board. When he was done writing, he looked to the class and proclaimed, "Welcome to Language Arts, I am your teacher Mr. Jackson, not Mr. Johnson, Mr. J, or Teacher. I will only reply to Mr. Jackson. Today we will be writing an essay on what you did in your classes last trimester, and I talked to every one of your teachers so I will know if you are lying or not." The way he speaks embodies the words, 'I am going to make your lives miserable.'

As Mr. Johnson passed out paper and pens. You look around the room, and you see posters of farm animals on a table. The next poster was the same animal but cut up with organs on the tables which made me question why it's in a LA class and not Biology. The desks were worn and covered with splinters. The carpet is in a similar state with permanent indents. Due to your "bad behavior," he forces you to scrape gum and do other odd work around the school. You know that the indents won't go away no matter how much anyone tries. As Mr. J passed the paper to you, he gave a smirk that felt like you were face to face with Satan, Hel, Hades, or Anubis. When he turns his back to you, you flip him off and as soon as you do, he turns to you with joy in his eyes.

"Front office, now." He said in the calmest yet commanding voice. He turns around to pass the papers out again and as you try to say something he interrupts you, not sparing a glance, "Office! Or your precious mom will get another call. You don't want that to happen again, right?"

He had you cornered, with your hand now clenched tightly in a fist. All you could do now was get up and leave. On your way to the office, you pass by a trophy wall and stop at a single trophy. It was a Heisman trophy from 1999. You put your hand on the glass trying to grab it but instead lay your hand on the glass. As you slide your hand down the glass and as you walk away, the name "Christopher Diaz Becker '' shines on the gold-plated trophy, right next to it is a backward folded card with signatures all over it.

R.I.P

Christopher Diaz Becker

1983-03-24 to 2013-10-23

"You may be lost, but not forgotten"

* * *

As you look around, it's your 12th birthday and two people are visible. There is a vague figure standing next to a tall old dude in slightly worn jeans, a wrinkled flannel, and a shirt plastered with a rock band name. After a bit, you realized it was your dad's father. The other figure was a male dressed in what seemed to be a blue graphic t-shirt and sweats. You couldn't make out the design on the shirt, as the man walked closer to you, becoming more visible, like a computer loading a tab. When he was about a foot away from you, you noticed it was your dad, Christopher Deaz Becker. When you looked him down and on the way back up you found that he was wearing his usual work attire. What you thought were sweats and a shirt was his apron, folded over, with "Delta Robotics" in yellow print and an engine gear on it. Your eyes moved up to his face that was partially covered by an eyepatch and oil stains. The eye visible to you is so brown and his hair is dark black.

When you see him, your eyes start to water because you know exactly what happened after that day. You pounce at your dad but as soon as you are about to touch him, he gets jolted backwards like a puppet being controlled by a puppeteer; arms and legs flailing in the wind. As soon as he disappears, you look around at your grandpa and mom; who just walked into the room with the cake, and instantly they turn and walk toward you. By the time their second foot hit the floor, they were on each side of you and grabbed your arm. Trying to escape from the shockingly strong grip, you look into your mother's eyes, which were replaced with dark and empty sockets. Your mom's long dirty blond hair turns gray from the roots to the tips and shortly falls out. Your eyes follow the hair to the carpeted floor and look up as fast as you can; her once beautiful soft skin was now that of a corpse, cold, bitter, pale, and now quickly decomposing.

You glance the other way at your grandpa, his wrinkled skin now peeling off the bone and his blue eyes stare into you as they roll out. Now absolutely terrified, you try to break free once more and fall back into a never-ending darkness. 

Once you hit an invisible floor, bouncing a solid half a foot off the ground, it's pitch black now and you can't see anything, and a deep masculine voice speaks to you. It shakes the floor like an earthquake. The tone of the voice spoken was strange and monotonous, but you know this voice very well, it is the same voice you have been hearing since the day of your father's passing. Every single night without a stop, on the dot, without falter… But it has never happened like this, you would typically be in a field of red flowers and red and cloudy red skies and this shadowed figure would talk calmly and friendly, now it's strong and commanding. "Do you remember what we talked about before? About helping this cursed Nightmare end and if you help me, I can give you power and strength." As you are looking at the invisible floor trying to keep your balance, You look up annoyed after what he said sinks into your head. As you open your mouth to speak, the voice interrupts you with an offer you can't refuse. "I can make your mom get over her illness and bring your father back. You want that right? A family that can never be broken apart again?"

At the end of its final words, a vision of your mom and dad, both happy and holding their arms out for a hug inside of your house. As you slowly walk towards them with your arms out; smiling and crying, when you touch your dad they fade away into dust and you drop to your knees with your head in your arms. After a minute or two, you look back up with a burning passion and say "Just tell me what to do." With the sound of determination in your voice.

"Perfect, now we can get into business." Said the voice in a way you would only picture if he were grinning/smiling. "First you need to-"

"NO, first YOU need to show me your face and a name, and give me a reason why to trust you." You said looking into the darkness.

"Of course my friend, it has been what… 1 or 2 years now?-"

You cut him off with a mutter under your breath "5 years ago today" and the voice adjusts itself. "I am sorry, I have been unknown to time. But yes my fellow friend, I will show myself and give all the answers to you. Although not now but over time. I need you to first go to Daddy's little workshop and I will give further instructions from there. Remember, this is the best thing for your family."

As the voice disintegrates, you fall again, this time, you don't go into another dream. But you wake, the bright light flashing into your eyes as you slowly open them, the feeling of paper below you then. Rubber? As you turn your head around, all you see is a light green curtain circling you. As you sit up, you get a throbbing pain in your upper left leg, your chest, and your head. As you lift your shirt, the feeling of bandages, there was no mistaking it now, you were in the hospital. 

*How did I get here?* you think in pure confusion. 

You try to get up to find some answers, and as soon as you touch the floor with your left foot, the pain rushes through you like a herd of bulls and you decide instantly to just lay back down. After what felt like hours, a nurse finally opened the curtain. He was a bigger dude, seemed like 7 foot; you didn't bother with him, you looked past him into the rest of the hospital to see 5 other curtains, 3 empty beds, and one curtain closed, the final bed had someone with blood dripping through his bandages. When you look to your side to the man, you ask him; face covered in dark shadow, all you can make out is dark brown hair and a medical mask. 

When your eyes look to where his eyes would be, you ask "What happened?" sounding confused.

"You were in an accident, sir. A car hit you when you were crossing the highway, luckily you weren't hurt too badly because of that guy over there." he points to the guy in the bandages and he turned his head towards you, looking worse than before, his right eye was swollen and with an eyepatch, his forehead was cut and bleeding, his clothes were torn and ridged. When you look back, the nurse keeps talking "He was able to push you out of the way before it could hit you entirely, you got hit from your pelvis down, he got hit in the lungs and it sent him flying. He is lucky to be alive right now, but you have a sprained fibula, a bruised rib, and a very light whiplash. You will be released in an hour or two." He starts to walk away.

When he is about to close the curtain, you ask "What is the time? How long was I out?"

"It is Monday, October 23, 5:30 pm, you were only out for an hour after getting to the hospital."

A few hours later you walk out of the hospital with a crutch in hand and cast on your leg, you pull your phone out of your pocket; cracked but still works. After cutting your finger a few times while putting in your password and getting your mom's phone ready to dial.

*She won't be very thrilled, will she?* you think while preparing yourself for the classic "I was so worried, are you ok?" treatment.

You take a deep breath press the dial button and cut yourself once again and you wince in pain.

"The number you are trying to reach is unavailable. If this is an emergency please hang up and dial 911-" said the automated voicemail.

*Of course her phone is off. Let's check how much I have left.* As you continue to swipe on your phone; cutting more and more skin off, by the time you get to your balance in your account. Your fingers are bleeding profusely and you can barely see the screen from all the red. *Okay, let's see* you wipe the blood with your sleeve and let out a sigh *40 dollars to get home, that can work… right?*

As you sit down on the cold concrete bench; phone in hand, you make a call, and about 20 minutes later a dark blue Camaro rolls up and you get up, walk to the car, and get in. While in the car, you look around at the nice interior. The nice black leather seats with dark blue lining, the dark gray plastic surrounding the whole inside with spots of dark lavender.

"Are you going to get your crutch? You left it at the bench" said the driver in a thick southern accent. 

You look back over at the bench and see the crutch there, then look back down at your leg. It feels perfectly fine, nothing was hurt. *What is happening?* you think in a concerned tone. "No, it's fine, I didn't need it anyway."

As the driver starts the car and starts to drive, you look out the window and at the sunset and your mind wanders into space.