College sucks so much! I screamed in my head as I ran along the walkways. My backpack bounced against me as I grabbed a lamp post to help me take a tight turn toward the building. I slipped past the doors as someone was exiting, then took the stairs two steps at a time. On the second floor, a long hallway met me, its walls and doors a mirror image of each other. I took a deep breath before rushing down the hall, my eyes scouring the doors for the room number.
When I saw the number, I stopped, patted down my clothes, and took another deep breath to calm myself before quietly opening the door. The room was dark, the projector displaying a large image of a statue: a smiling man in a striking pose, his stone rough from age, one hand flat and facing the sky. Most people would assume he was dancing or preparing for war. I slipped into one of the back seats—the front ones were already taken. As soon as I sat down, my legs turned to jelly. I stayed silent, pulling out my notebook to take whatever notes I could. The class ended without much issue, which was the point.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Keven, my supervisor. I ignored it. I knew he wanted overtime—four consecutive days, no less. I hadn't gotten to bed until two this morning because of his demands. I let the phone ring. Today was my day off, and I was taking it.
When class let out, I stood up to leave, my lower half protesting with every stiff step. In the hallway, a familiar voice called out:
"Bryce… I was worried for a second." My college friend Wu wrapped an arm around my shoulder, surprising me from behind.
Wu was one of those people who were always off doing their own thing—whether practicing a weird dance in the quad or eating something I couldn't identify. I trusted the guy; he was the one who introduced me to a tea that felt like downing an energy drink. We met in a self-defense class—one of the few areas where I excelled, thanks to Mr. Ravenhurst's engaging teaching style. Wu and I had quickly bonded over our shared outsider status; he had moved from China to pursue his studies, and I was from a small country town no one had heard of. He was laid-back and went with the flow.
As we walked, my stomach growled, reminding me I had forgotten to eat breakfast. Without a word, we headed for the loud cafeteria. A wall of people blocked the counter, so I grabbed a protein drink and some snacks from a vending machine. Wu grabbed a few pieces of fruit from a countertop display. We found a quiet corner under a large tree in a raised planter that served as seating.
"So, did Mr. Brockmen approve of your report topic?" I asked, popping open my snacks.
Wu groaned, confirming the answer. "No… apparently, he isn't interested in the evolution of martial arts that helped shape different historical figures." He took a large bite of fruit, clearly sulking.
I understood his frustration. The influence of martial arts on figures like Bruce Lee or even Teddy Roosevelt (who studied boxing and jujitsu) was fascinating, but Brockmen was notoriously stingy.
"What about you? Any ideas yet?" Wu asked through a mouthful of fruit.
I sighed. "Mr. Brickhead keeps rejecting everything. First, Rome's influence, then the Silk Road, which he said wasn't 'extensive enough for a history report' because of the name." I rubbed my temples. Is college the right move? I was never good at school, and the only reason I was here was for the "future."
"Maybe you can report on jewelry? I mean, you have enough bling on you to make a diamond envious." Wu joked, trying to cheer me up.
I chuckled and looked at the Apep ring, then at the necklace. "That actually might just get approved," I admitted, gently holding the Viking Sunstone between my fingers. Jewelry was one of the oldest forms of art, offering a wide range of styles—it was a solid idea.
After we ate, we headed back to the dorm. Wu went out to meet friends, leaving me to my work. I sat on my bed, eyes focused on the glowing laptop screen, typing away. Now and then, I'd stop to look at the gifts from home—my connections to a life that already felt distant.
After what felt like hours, I set my laptop aside for a short break. My legs were aching, and the sunlight was just beginning to set. That's when I saw it.
It was a quick, dark blur moving along the far wall to the right. I stopped, thinking it might be a rat or a large bug. The last thing I needed was to deal with fumigation. My eyes focused on the wall, wondering if my sleep-deprived mind was playing tricks.
I saw the blur again: a dark streak that darted out from the side and vanished into my shadow. I jumped back onto my bed, sure that whatever it was was trying to get to me. I scanned the floor where the sun poured in—just scratched hardwood.
As I craned my neck to get a better look, the blur rushed off on the far wall again, moving back and forth quickly. It wasn't moving like a bug or a rat. I looked down at my necklace, my eyes straining as I noticed the sunlight hitting the sunstone.
I slowly climbed off my bed and took the necklace. I turned and raised the sunstone, holding it up to catch the last rays of the setting sun.
The stone rose over the horizon line, and as the light caught it, it burned my eyes. Colors flooded my vision. The world twisted and coiled, replacing the dorm room with an image that materialized before me.
I was standing at the bow of a boat, gently bobbing with the rolling sea waves. I felt the cool air and smelled the ocean breeze. My eyes locked on the horizon, silently waiting. The sound of waves lapping against the wooden hull was soothing.
Suddenly, an old, ragged voice whispered from over my shoulder. "It is fortunate to be favored with praise and popularity; It is dire luck to be dependent on the feelings of your fellow man."
I felt a hand on my shoulder. I wanted to turn, but I couldn't take my eyes off the horizon. Slowly, a sharp point appeared and rose into the sky—an island in the distance. I knew I was moving toward it.
In no time, I found myself inches from the shore. The air was cold, a nice contrast to the summer heat I was used to. It reminded me of the cool mountain air back home.
A hard impact struck my cheek, shocking me out of the dream. My head jolted to the side, and the island vision was gone, replaced by a lovely view of the underside of my bed. My eyes swam, blurring between mess and clarity. A deep, dry groan escaped my throat. I placed a throbbing hand against my cheek.
I looked over to see Wu looming over me, pure panic etched on his face.
"What the hell, Wu?" I managed to ask as I slowly sat up. My body felt stiff like a log.
"Hey, I thought you were dead. What do you expect?" As I stood up, I noticed something was different. The setting sun had vanished. Instead of the dark sky and city lights, I saw a clear blue sky and the rustic buildings of campus. I looked at the clock and froze: 8:00 AM.
Eight in the morning.
How could I have been out for that long? How could the sun have moved? Was this exhaustion?
Wu stuck to me like glue the rest of the day, worried I would pass out again. I ate a microwave meal and went to bed, sleeping peacefully. I kept the dream of the island and the whispering voice to myself. Honestly, my overworked mind was just playing tricks on me.