AGGHHH! A man woke up. What… in the world… is this place…?!
He stood upright in shock seeing a ceiling he never saw before.
He didn't belong here, or so he thought.
Why am I here…? His voice trembled inside as he quickly stood up to check these new, unknown surroundings, only to fall back down upon feeling the sudden jolt of pain shooting through his chest
He felt a sudden stroke in his heart. He could barely resist it; and so he fell down on his bed.
He soon felt some liquid-ish and wet thing in his chest. As he stood up again. His eyes lingered on the broken, shattered and despicable mirror hanging on the wall on his left.
Without any second thought, he decided the walk over to that mirror.
Each step felt like walking without a body, it felt so light-weighted for him.
The candles around him flickered twice, then thrice.
A wind came outside the only window in that room, covered with a pale-red cloth – it had tiny stains in it.
The sky outside wasn't blank, it was stuffed with chaos and intensity. Stars bloomed with dignity, the moon looked terrifyingly real to even be called 'fake.'
A heavy-cold breeze came again from the window, and then the candles became dim.
As he marched towards the mirror, the wind got heavier. Heavier, colder, pressing against him restlessly. Even in this, the candles regained their light and spark.
He looked at the shattered but aligned pieces of mirror.
WHAT?!
He closed his eyes and shook his head in shock. Taking heavy breaths. He could see his breath fanning the cool air.
He didn't look as he did before. He was now wearing the skin of another. He couldn't deny that he was no longer what he used to be.
He wore a plain white shirt with a black waistcoat, he had simple black hair and black eyes; with an injury to the left of his chin. He wore black pants, black shoes and black socks.
"Quite bland," He said. "Is this… Victorian-fashion… ?"
But out of nowhere, his eyes lingered on a faint dark spot near him, but his eyes were too blurry to even detect what it was.
Soon after the dark spot started to move, but not just move, but its movements felt real. It was as if the dark stop was approaching HIM.
And when the "dark spot" lunged at HIM, he recoiled and swiftly closed his eyes. However, when he opened his eyes again, the "dark spot" was nowhere to be seen.
Was he even alive? Or…
He noticed a flat book laying down on the floor, he feared it may kill him once more. But it couldn't stop his urge.
He calmed himself and relieved his body, and took his first step towards the book, the book was pale-brown in colour. As he approached nearer and nearer, he realised that it was no book but a notebook.
His footsteps were making no sound. Yet, the silence made him clench his hands. He tried to look straight and nowhere else.
As he reached the pale-brown notebook, he cleared his throat and grabbed the notebook, it felt heavy, and when he finally flipped the pages, it said:
Did you know…
A man dies twice: once, when he dies; twice, when he's forgotten.
"What does this… has to do with me…?" He asked.
…
Be aware of the presentials. Especially… the audience.
Wait!...?!
I warn you for knowing both: less, and more; would cause you trouble greater than ever before.
But… How did I die…?
…!
There was a door knock.
WHAT?!...
He ran straight to the door, unaware of what to do. He opened the door in utter confusion.
"Uhm… brother?" It was a little girl with black hair and eyes. Of course, she was white.
Wait! Is she… no… no… no…!!!
"Brother…? Brother! BROTHER!!!" She yelled.
"OH! Sorry…" he acted clumsily. "I was lost in my thoughts. What do you want?"
As if he knew better, his brain would've never caused one's brain to shatter.
"I will graduate high-school tomorrow! I have completed all my examinations, and even got the results."
"Oh! Great news to hear! What rank did you get?" He asked.
"Second…" her smile faded away. Like the hope's ray, under one's dismay.
"That…is not terrible…!"
"Not for you! But for me…"
"Aha…"
"Anyway, will you come to see me at school tomorrow? No, you must!"
"Yeah… sure."
And when she was about to go off, her eyes lingered onto something. "What is that black cloth doing on your study table?"
He was confused. "What black cloth?"
"Are you blind?" She questioned him.
"Theoretically." He jested.
"I'm serious." She proclaimed.
"I'm not." He jested again.
"AGGHHH!!! Leave it!" She roared in anger and left.
He slumped on his chair, firmly closing his eyes.
His frivolousness stayed way abrupt. His eyes firmly widened abruptly after. As if 'he' ever joked bestart, perishment would draw nearer than ever.
It was a mysterious beforenight.
He was no longer a normal human. Despair took over him. "What am I now?" His silence was quite brisk. "An even better question would be… who am I now…?"
…!
An idea drew near his mind. He checked the book written by the prior pupil he is now in the body of.
"Arthur… Feyn?" His brain stopped functioning, "I've heard this name before!"
Questions flourished in his mind, wandering the abyss of demise led him to disclose some of the major memories he'd not in history have.
While he was vague of his attainments of the present, he came across a letter devoured in black ink, coarsely readable.
And when he opened the envelope, it was only a half burnt page with nothing except:
HELLO, MR. FEYN.
As he perused the letter, his hands trembled and a shiver went down his spine. Here dawns his attainments' test and dexterous him being assigned a certainly-not-an-abrupt-undertaking.
His eyes were dilated so substantial that it would compel one to feel uncomfortable. The weather outside was frigid.
The letter tumbled from his hands, surrendering to the floor.
As he could think of nothing else but what was happening, he felt a touch of a hand on his right shoulder, the hands felt large to him. His body froze, he couldn't move even if he wanted to.
As "It" drew near his ears, he started feeling dizzy, as if he would've collapsed.
"Another transmigrator? Huh?" It said in a deep-whisper.