I sit patiently waiting for the next train after a long day of work.
I never wanted to work as an office worker—it's a lot more difficult than people think.
You sit down all day clicking and clacking your keyboard, brew some coffee, continue being a keyboard warrior, get lunch, become a keyboard warrior—no, a keyboard slave and get asked to do extra work in the middle of it.
Guess what's next, brewing more coffee. Surely I get paid extra for this right?—no scrap that thought apparently I don't get paid extra for doing extra work.
Gosh I'm so tired of this but, I have to get money somehow. I'm not even a middle aged man yet I'm this burnt out.
Can't imagine how burnt out I'd be when I actually am older—maybe I could even get used to it?
Trying to forget my problems of life, I filled myself with nostalgia through looking at the pictures I took back in high school and college.
"How fast time flies"
I thought to myself
I dreamt of being a photographer in the future. It was a passion I developed early in my middle school year.
I loved taking pictures—just the fact of being able to freeze and capture a moment alone intrigued me.
But things didn't exactly work out my way…
I let out a sigh carrying a mix of dissatisfaction and disappointment.
"Attention; the train heading for I̸̡̛̳͌̉͋͐͒̍m̶̥͇͈̣̏͑̿͑̃̈͛̕͠p̸̢̻͓͎̻͙͂͒̋͒̓̃͊̐̔͘͝ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ŕ̶̛̰̱̈́̀́̑̿̾͛͂̈́͗̓̈́̒͘͝️i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽ will be arriving soon"
"That's odd—did the mic glitch when the location was announced?"
"So curious…"
I murmured
I shrugged it off—convinced it was either a glitch or maybe the announcer had a severe voice crack and nothing else.
The sound of the approaching train prompted me to stand up and waited behind the yellow line.
Shortly after, the train came—its appearance seemingly modern and sharp holds no passengers inside.
The urge to go back home and sleep, completely blinded any form of suspicion brewed inside of me.
I stepped into the train and made my way to the seat.
I let out a long weary sigh but was soon cut off by the announcer.
"The train will be leaving now"
The announcer said calmly
I leaned against the chair trying to get some shut eyes as the train doors closed slowly. The train started moving slowly and picking up speed.
I dozed off—having some weird dream about a talking moose named Aho and how he works for Santa Claus.
In that very same dream I tried to hop on Aho but failed and fell.
As I was in the middle of falling, I woke up in shock—my breathing slightly faster and desperate.
The train had already stopped so maybe me falling in my dreams isn't a bad thing after all—highly convenient may I add.
Scanning my surroundings—looking for any signs of life only to be met with nothing—no one.
"I can't be the only one working the extra shifts late at night…"
The feeling of suspicion finally set in on me after… how many minutes of sleep?
I pull my sleeve to check my watch only to reveal a few minutes have passed.
"Yea, something is definitely not right"
My chest tightened and my thoughts became cluttered with all sorts of theories such as the world has ended and I'm the only one left—no that's a bit overboard and illogical because then this train wouldn't have moved.
With my own hand I gave myself the almighty slap to the cheek—snapping myself out.
My cheek felt warm as I caress it—fresh from my slap.
"Kay, I'm gonna get off this ride and go home and have a sweet,sweet sleep. "
I thought that maybe my rough sleep schedule was the problem but... It was far from the truth.
I waked towards the train door slowly.
I didn't realize that everything was eerily quiet in the train no sound of flickering lights no sound from the announcer no sound from the outside either.
Yet I pushed forward and as I took my first step out of the train I found myself lying down on a bed facing up to an unfamiliar wooden ceiling.
The difference felt like night and day, the bed was anything but comfortable—it's hard as a brick and the foul odor coming from it—gosh were the sheets sprayed by skunk??
Upon further inspection I found that the smell came from the very thing I was wearing—a worn out rag with a few holes here and there.
Another thing I noticed is that my body feels so familiar—comfortable even yet, so foreign.
I sat up slowly—crossing my legs and scanned the room.
The walls were made of wooden planks—looking down from the poor excuse of a bed I see that the floor was dirt and dead grass.
Next to the bed stood a table—its appearance seemed rushed, old and frail.
It's life expectancy is holding onto a thread—one small vase with water would surely take it down.
On the table was a dimly candle shining out the little light it has left. The candle's height is short and the melted wax surrounded it.
I deduced that I must've been kidnapped and brought to a secluded area—somewhere deep in the mountains possibly.
But why would the kidnappers even have the decency to put on some form of clothing on me?
I rubbed my chin deep in thought—trying to piece together the puzzle pieces on what may have happened.
I noticed that my hands felt rough when rubbing my chin so I looked at the both of my hands.
Confusion swept over me—I racked my brain even harder only to be interrupted by a sudden pop up.
[You're supposed to be dead.]
I jumped out of the bed from shock at the text
The text itself was white inside a blue chatbox. It looked like those text boxes in a generic power fantasy... Wait.
[Why are you suddenly acting like that?]
[I thought you were already used to this?]
[Putting that aside—you can't possibly be alive and breathing no?? ]
My eyebrows shot up as my pupils widened at the realization.
"If I really am in another world should I trust the chatbox?"
"Should I spill on how I got reincarnated??"
"There's a chance that it's different from how its presented in fantasy stories"
I had to make a decision quickly because if I don't It'll make that thing even more suspicious of me.
"Hah? What do you mean I just woke up from a nap."
[What kind of crap are you spitting?? It says right here in your story —Jean dies in his bed]
"Bingo"
I've got one key to get myself out of this sticky situation. The original owner of this body I'm in is "Jean".
The reason on why the body has rough hands, lives in this rundown house and wears rags for clothes is that this dude is a low class.
As for this story thing the chatbox mentioned, does it tell the story on how the owner's body die or does it tell the owner's whole life? Does it apply for everyone in this other world?
I had many questions and unfortunately I took too long to answer.
[You're acting out of character Jean]
" OH HAHA NAH REALLY?? GUESS THAT POISON DIDN'T WORK AS INTENDED AND I LOST MY MEMORIES MAYBE? YEAH MAYBE"
Wowzers... That won't work at all.
[That... Is possible but why did the story... Oh no did I mess up and alter the story??]
I held my giddy giggle in knowing that the chatbox somehow believed me.
The chatbox stayed silent for a few minutes so I took the opportunity to walk around.
Next to the barely standing table was a wide water-filled basin. I inspected my new appearance and I must say... I look terrible.
"Man, this guy needs a touch up"
A beep sound came from the direction of the blue chatbox
[Jean the Peasant Orphan, in order to follow your storyline I must kill you]
"Huh?"