Chapter 3 by Blue

And here is where the chapter begins. He jolts backward abruptly, heartbeat spiking, coughing. After a few seconds, his breathing goes back to normal, and he closes his eyes, sighing heavily. Just a bad dream. Nothing out of the ordinary. He goes back to staring up at the lines of people waiting to board the plane, the blue lines of the airline logo above the door, the counter next to the door where people’s passports are checked. He stares for a little too long, until the person besides him comments, “It’s almost our time to board the plane.” He turns his head sharply, seeing his friend to his right, grinning at him. He smiles back silently and goes back to staring at the lines of people. Today is the first day of his class trip to New York City — five to six days, give or take. His heartbeat is almost audible and his mouth is completely dry. You’d think he was presenting a class project or something of the sort, with cold, clammy, sweat-covered hands, but he isn’t. Just nervous to be on a trip outside of his state for the first time in a long while. Just nervous. After all, what does he have to be afraid of? The book tells him everything that’s going to happen. He found the book one sunny afternoon, stashed in the back of his closet along with random figurines that haven’t seen the light in years and dust bunnies. He didn’t think too much of the book at first — just asked his parents if the book was theirs. They shrugged. Said they had never seen it. Maybe it belonged to a relative and they accidentally left it at their house and it got shifted into the back of the closet. But when he opened the book in the recluse of his own room, complete with a dust covering and the smell of an old novel, he found detailed diary-like journal entries consisting of descriptions of events. He thought, Wow, whoever wrote this must have been really dedicated. They included very miniscule details that could’ve been easily overlooked. But a strange sinking feeling found its way into his stomach when he realized the actions listed in the book seemed. . . familiar. They were things that he would have done on a daily basis. He flipped back to the beginning to carefully inspect the book.

It read, Chapter 1. And here is where the chapter begins. He sits up abruptly in his bed, heartbeat spiking, coughing. After a few seconds, his breathing goes back to normal, and he sits back in his bed, sighing heavily. Just a bad dream. Nothing out of the ordinary. After a few minutes. . . And the list goes on and on, with a word by word description of actions the person in question was doing. Except. . . He had done every single task described. And on the bottom of that page, the list read, He picks up and reads this book. His eyes widened. Was this a list of all that he was doing? Was someone supervising him this entire time and watching his every move? He instinctively stiffened up and looked around himself cautiously, but no one was in sight. And what piqued his wonder was that when he flipped to the next page, words immediately filled in. The list contained items that he hadn’t done that day yet. He finishes math homework and then proceeds to cry over said homework’s difficulty. His chest heaves, tears hot in his eyes. . . After a while, when he’s calmed down, he brings up his phone to browse Twitter again for half an hour, before he’s called to have dinner. . . And such. And there was another “chapter” on the next page. Chapter 2. And here is where the chapter begins. He sits up abruptly in his bed, heartbeat spiking, coughing. After a few seconds, his breathing goes back to normal, and he sits back in his bed, sighing heavily.

CHAPTER 3

by blue

The list contained items that he hadn’t done that day yet.

Just a bad dream. Nothing out of the particular. . . Furiously flipping through the pages, he quickly realized that the book didn’t seem to have an end. The more pages he flipped by, the more he got into the future, the more pages appeared in front of him. Each one had a chapter title, each “chapter” denoting a day’s start, followed by the words And here is where the chapter begins. Was this an action-by-action log of his days, but including his future actions too? Would that mean that if he flipped through the pages fast enough, he could see his future play out, even the far-fetched things like what college he went to, who (if anyone) he dated, his major, his eventual job? But would the words on the paper change to adapt to reality if he changed something in his routine? He decided to test it. He stood up, shaking his limbs for a second before taking out his phone and opening his music app. He selected the first song that popped up in his general playlist. Distortion by BABYMETAL. According to what he had seen so far, if he got up and did something different, something not written in the book, the book should change too to reflect that. And it did, as he opened the book when the song was still playing. Where it hadn’t been listed before, under He picks up and reads this book, the words He gets up and shakes himself, before playing music (Distortion - BABYMETAL). He stared at the words. Rubbing his eyes to see if it was just part of his vision. But the words didn’t go away. Something like nervous excitement struck his heart. If this book changed to reflect whatever happened in reality. . . he could utilize this to steer clear of embarrassing events, misfortunes, and ultimately make his way to success. And that’s where the book leads him to now — a trip to New York City. For the past few months since he found the book, it’s improved his life by a lot. All it takes is a 5-minute max reading of the book to figure out what events will happen in his day and if there’s anything he needs to change. Whenever a day passes, the previous day’s entry gets erased from the book, and the current day’s entry is renamed to Chapter 1, the following days’ chapter numbers accordingly adjusted. The book is like a miracle: it’s saved him from countless embarrassing situations and tight pickles. It’s too good to be true. But that’s not the only way the book has changed his life. About two months ago, he spent a day dedicated just to flipping through the book to see what his future held. He went so far as to seeing what he did everyday more than 3 years into the future (in which 3 years might not seem like a lot of time, it did take him quite a while to flip that far in the book) and what shocked him was that there were no more entries after Chapter 1552. A quick rundown on the last entry revealed: Chapter 1552. And here is where the chapter begins. He sits up abruptly in his bed, heartbeat spiking, coughing. After a few seconds, his breathing goes back to normal, and he sits back in his bed, sighing heavily. Just a bad dream. Nothing out of the particular. . . And then a detailed narration of his day, with the exception of the ending: The Viper shoots him in his apartment, bullet striking its mark in the middle of his chest. His vision slowly blurs until everything turns black and he lies in a puddle of his own blood on the ground of his living room. He has met his final end. The chapter ends here.

The Viper? Who on Earth is the Viper? A Google search did no good. Maybe the book was glitching? (Despite the fact that books can’t glitch, but some part of him hoped there was an error within its pages.) But over the next few days, the book still changed the entries up to date, containing information about the current day and the days to come, but the last entry didn’t change. The last words on the last page still read: The chapter ends here. That meant one thing: about in 4 years, he would meet a person, the Viper, who would be the end of him.

For the months since he found out the way he died, fear

Why did he decide to board the plane if he knew his killer was on the plane beside him?

encapsulated his everyday life. He couldn’t look at other people the same way. What if they were the so-called Viper that he needed to avoid? Which one of the 7 billion people occupying the Earth would be the end of him? Which— “Class D, boarding now,” comes a blaring voice over the intercom, jolting him out of his thoughts. Noticing his slightly startled expression, his friend gives him a small smile again, to which he responds with an uneasy one of his own.

When he walks up to the entryway, he does what he normally does. He hands out his passport and flight ticket and with a quick swipe, he’s good to go. What stops him in his tracks, however, are the words the flight attendant stationed at the door tells him. The flight attendant pulls him back for a second and whispers in his ear, “The Viper is. . . ” followed by his friend’s name. The friend who stood next to him in line waiting to board the plane. His eyes bulge with shock, but he has no time to absorb the information. He’s rushed along into the gateway with the feeling of fear in his veins, his mind a flurry of questions. What did the flight attendant mean by the Viper was his friend? And what did the Viper know about the book? But most importantly, could he even trust the flight attendant’s words? But despite whether or not his friend was actually the Viper, it wouldn’t do any harm to be on guard, right? He decides to keep his distance for a while, at least before he lands on solid ground after the flight and gets some alone time to think.

Easier said than done, as his seat is adjacent to his friend’s. Upon sitting down, he quickly turns away for a few seconds to fumble through his bag, taking this time to think about his next moves. “I can’t believe this trip is actually happening, for real now,” his friend beside him comments. “It doesn’t feel real. This reminds me of when. . .” They then go on to ramble on about past memories, to which he weakly responds to. He shoots them small smiles and responds with a wavering voice, which he hopes isn’t too noticeable, but given the faint strange expression his friend had on his face, it’s clear that his nervousness is showing.

As he sits back in his chair, hoping some of his nerves would relax if his body loosened, a fearful thought strikes the center in his mind.

If his friend is the Viper. . . Did this mean there would be a possibility that his friend could kill him right here and right then? After all, the book is subject to change, and any slight change in people’s actions could change the course of his future reflected in the book. He hasn’t checked the book recently either.

Why did he decide to board the plane if he knew his killer was on the plane beside him? His hands become clammy with cold sweat, and the small smile that his friend adorns on his face grows, and his heart beats a heavy, heavy pulse in his chest— ---------------------------------------And here is where the chapter

begins.

He sits up abruptly in his bed, heartbeat spiking, coughing. After a few seconds, his breathing goes back to normal, and he sits back in his bed, sighing heavily. Just a bad dream. Nothing out of the particular. A few minutes pass before he gets out of bed to get on with the rest of his day. But before he puts on his outfit for the day, brushes his teeth, yada yada, he makes an effort to check the book. The book tells him everything that’s going to happen. It’s a day-by-day description of tasks he’s done and will do. The book is like a miracle: it’s saved him from countless embarrassing situations and tight pickles. It’s too good to be true. But when he flips through its pages, he finds entries he hadn’t seen the day before. One line stops him in his tracks: The Mole Man crashes into the room, one goal in mind: to kill him.

His eyes cross the lines of the page, until the words on the page end at: The Mole Man’s knife hits its target: it slices through his chest with a pain-filled shriek from him. He collapses onto the floor. His vision slowly blurs until everything turns black and he lies in a puddle of his own blood on the ground of his living room. He has met his final end. The chapter ends here. He hurriedly flips past that page, but he’s only met with blank pages. Is that his end? Will he die at the hands of a person called. . . the Mole Man? Who is the Mole Man?

And why couldn’t they have picked a better name? Chapter 2 is the title of the last entry, which means he’s doomed to meet his end in about 2 days. The only problem is, he quickly realizes as he mulls over his situation, that he’s not the only one who lives in his house. What about his parents and his grandparents? This might be a good thing. If he tells his family about what’s going to happen, couldn’t they help him fight back against whoever the Mole Man is? Or even better, just flee the house altogether before the killer arrives?

But the more he thinks about it, the worse the idea seems. Even if he tells his family, would anything change? Wouldn’t they just think he’s crazy and then go on with their day? Of course if he were to hear these words from someone else’s mouth, he would think they were crazy too. Throughout the day, he follows his normal routine. Still nervously smiles at his parents over breakfast and lunch. Still attends class and does his work but his mind is elsewhere. He tries to shake off the feeling of apprehension that crawls up his skin but it’s to no avail. What if it’s all inside his head? That the book is made up? What if he ignores what the book says? After all, if he ignores the Mole Man, there’s no way they could come for him, right? He sits there in a pool of his own foolish thoughts, in over his head with his mind pulling in different directions, frantically trying to distract himself. Of course, of course. . . if he doesn’t acknowledge the Mole Man’s existence, it would be the same as them not existing. . . And then they wouldn’t come to kill him. . . He stashes his worries about the Mole Man somewhere in the back of his mind where it’s numb with pain from a headache and he can’t hear them anymore. Plasters on his best smile at dinner. Laughs along to jokes. His day resumes. There’s no way the Mole Man can kill him now if he doesn’t speak a word of him. . . There’s no way. . . There’s no way. . . But the sound of glass breaking is what meets him as he walks across the living room. He jumps back immediately, but it’s a little too late for him to avoid the knife that suddenly appears in the corner of his vision, closely nicking the bottom of his chin in one swift move.

He only barely escapes with a scrape, and ow, it does hurt. In the back somewhere, his mother screams. But everything he hears quickly becomes muffled when the figure that lunged at him comes into focus, and their face slowly lifts upward until it’s visible. A mole mask. So it is the Mole Man. He’s going to meet his end. . . But why now of all times? Didn’t the book say he had two more days? Was this not going to happen in Chapter 2? He doesn’t have time to think about the book when the Mole Man lunges for him again, this time with the knife directed at the center of his chest. It hits bird’s-eye, and he goes down with a howl, his abdomen pierced through. He trips on some glass shards on his way down, landing him on his side, curled up with his hand on his chest. The pain makes it hard for him to move. It’s like someone carved up a piece of him and tore him out. But even as his vision becomes fuzzy with pain, the thought he has when he sees the dark figure of what looks like the Mole Man staggering in the distance is Oh. He must’ve forgotten to check the book. After all, the book is subject to change, and any slight change in people’s actions could change the course of his future reflected in the book. He hasn’t checked the book recently either. It feels like his body might explode, bursting into tiny shards, with the pain that strikes him chest-first. He tries to get up but horribly fails, the glass on the ground cutting into his hand and earning him another pain-struck howl.

This cursed book, he thinks bitterly as his vision fades into stars, bright and aching. This cursed book. So much for being a miracle. So much for—

-------------------------------------And here is where the chapter begins. He sits up abruptly in his bed, heartbeat spiking, coughing. After a few seconds, his breathing goes back to normal, and he sits back in his bed, sighing heavily. Just a bad dream. Nothing out of the particular. A few minutes pass before he gets out of bed to get on with the rest of his day. But right as he reaches for the book to read a description of his day, two hands suddenly grip his shoulder, one on each side. His eyes bulge. He slowly, slowly turns his head to the right side, to hopefully catch a glimpse of whoever’s behind him, slowly, slowly— The chapter ends here.

The chapter ends here.