One hundred.. and Fifty (Fiction)

The man opened his eyes slowly, and to his surprise found himself standing in the middle of a road in something remotely similar to the American suburbs he had once known so well. He paid no notice to the truck heading his way, and continued walking towards it. The first sign of impact was when his nose was pressed flat against his face. He stopped, realizing his nose could not have struck the front of the truck as he now was standing behind it. The fact that he had the ability to pass through trucks provoked no reaction whatsoever in the man, instead he pressed his fingers against the air in front of him. As I thought, thought the man as he started testing the seemingly impenetrable air with his fingers.

A growing sense of unease wakened in his stomach. He could not seem to pass his fingers through the air, moreover the man was unable to see anything different about the area. Somehow he knew that waking so close to the border of your territory was unheard of, which was the only reason he felt the need to test the air at all, but to anyone else the most obvious irregularity would have been the slow monotonous music of a foreign voice telling him “one hundred… and fifty” seemingly from the depth of his mind. Despite this the man kept pressing his fingers against different parts of the border, just to make sure that indeed it was the end of his territory. But of course, he thought irregularities often appear concerning the first of each week, this must be the case here.

The man again unsurprised at the information seemingly devoid of a source. No longer interested, the man turned away from the invisible wall and peered into the windows of one of the many almost identical white houses. Old age well, organ failure, how boring. He thought as he moved on to a house nearby. Car accident eh? He thought and started walking down the middle of the road again. He knew that it could take days, weeks, months and even years before he actually found someone that piqued his interest enough that he would alter their lives. Just finding something like a car accident was a rather rare occasion.

After inspecting a few more houses, cancer and heart failure seem almost too regular, what’s wrong with this neighborhood? He thought, and was getting rather bored, however slowly he could feel an ominous presence closing in. He could sense that someone whose life had been changed was nearing his position. And at the same time he could feel that the cause changed for the people living in the house he was closest to, now when he examined the married couple sitting on the couch in front of the TV, the foreign voice in his head whispered murder.

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