BLKHLDN

Words and stuff

[writing-prompt-s]

Every morning for as long as you can remember, Future You has appeared in the mirror for a minute or two to give you bits of advice, encouragement, or cheer you up. Today is different - Future You is not there. Instead you see a familiar looking little boy brushing his teeth.

[blkhldn]

“Who are you?” The little boy in the mirror asked.

My breath caught, stunned. The day was finally here. That’s how time works, isn’t it?

In a weird way, I remembered this day. I remembered brushing my teeth, leaning over to spit, and looking up to see an old man looking at me in the mirror.

Am I that old? I remember seeing grey hair. I mean, there’s a little grey hair I guess. But come on. I’m only 40.

Oh shit. I have to talk.

“Hey buddy. Don’t freak out.”

“Dad!!” Younger me called out to our dad.

“No no no, shhh. Dad can’t know.” I said quickly.

Younger me wipes the mirror, I remember being him, trying to figure out if this was a dream.

“You’re not dreaming,” I said. “I’m real. This is going to sound crazy, but I’m you. From the future”

Younger me’s mouth dropped. “Woah.”

“Yeah, woah,” I agree. “Crazy shit… er. Stuff.”

Younger me giggled.

“Listen, we don’t have much time. We get two minutes, so I’ll be brief. You have to wear your blue sneakers today. I know, we hate them, but trust me. It’s how you meet Allison. You HAVE to meet Allison.”

“Uhhh okay I will.”

“Good. Also, don’t forget deodorant. And bring a breath mint.”

Understanding dawned on younger me and he giggled.

Fog started filling up the mirror, severing the connection.

Younger me called out, “when will I see you again?!”

“Tomorrow,” I said. “And everyday!”

Fog filled the mirror before I slowly started seeing my own face again.

“Until today.”

[writing-prompt-s]

Your task from the client was simple; Kill the target and take care of the kid too. It’s been ten years since then, and you’ve just realized you may have misunderstood “take care of kid too.”

[blkhldn]

Mr. Steel sat in his home office late at night reading a book. The window was left halfway open, letting the sound and smell of rainfall fill the air.

He took a drink from his glass of whisky as he continued reading about the modern problems facing scuba divers in the Atlantic.

He heard the blinds shuffle more than he would have expected from the wind. Although he is now retired, his training from thirty three years as an assassin kicked in.

By all outward appearances he kept reading, but he was carefully listening to the drum of the rain while watching the shadows from the candlelight dance across the floor. He focused with his peripherals, keen to detect any subtle changes in the room.

Keeping his head down, he picked up his glass of whisky, almost empty but still enough to have a reflection. As he raised the glass to his mouth, he looked in the reflection to get a clear view of the room, just barely catching a burst of movement behind him.

He spun out of his chair and ducked under the wide arch of a sword, slicing only inches above his head. Too late, however, did he react to a second swing from another sword. He fell backwards as it raced toward him from above.

Breathing heavy while lying flat on his back, he would have been killed in that instant, had the blade not stopped millimeters away from the tip of his nose.

Mr. Steel looked up to see his assailant remove the ski mask covering their face. Recognition came to him immediately.

Bright blue eyes. Shaggy blonde hair. And a deep scar stretching from her left eyebrow to her jaw: it was definitely her. Rachel Myers. The kid of that evil man he killed all those years ago.

“Rachel,” He said.

“Mr. Steel,” she said. “After all this time is thought you’d be harder to fight”

“I’m retired. You were only 12 when I took you to that orphanage,” Mr. Steel said. “How you’ve grown.”

“Yeah I’ve grown,” she said. “Big enough now to avenge my father.”

Mr. Steel tried to swipe the sword away from his face, and immediately regretted it. Right as his hand came up off the ground, Rachel anticipated the movement and stabbed with the other sword, pinning it to the floorboard.

“Look what you made me,” Rachel said, a cold fire burning in her eyes.

“Please, Rachel,” Mr. Steel said. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes,” she said. “I do.” Rachel raised both swords high in the air and with amazing speed and strength, brought them down on Mr. Steel.

Rachel stood up and looked at the crumped figure of the man who had ruined her life ten years prior. “You should have taken care of me when you had the chance.”

[blkhldn]

The thing about loss that I hate to have learned is that you have to re-explore all of the places you know with the newfound absence of those you’ve lost.