How To Go Back in Time – V

After the terrible realization that were doppelgangers, I decided to go to the bar. I desperately needed a break. I couldn’t even figure out exactly what Gretchen was saying. All she did was give me little hints.

But with those little hints, I realized a thing or two. This was not normal. And it was never going to be normal. There were copies of everyone, just roaming about. That’s why Justin was on video. That’s why he had a solid alibi.

And as I walked through those doors, I saw a familiar face. A skinny blonde man sitting at the counter, absolutely plastered. “James!” I said. “You’re here?”
A drunken smile crossed his face. “Yeaaah, BUDDY! I’m still here!”

“…You’re deteriorating.”

He nodded. “I am. Too much going on, man. Too much noise. Too much death. I can’t find my paints, man, my fucking paints. I can’t find them at all and I swear I’m gonna cry.”

“Come on.” I said. “Have a drink with me.”

* * *

“Did I tell you I was a premie?” James said, taking a swig.
“…A what?”

He wiped his mouth and said, “A premature baby—yeah, I know—kinda crazy. My mom was fuckin’ bedridden for a couple months—like it was bad.”

“Right.”

“But you wanna know why that happened?”
“…”

“I literally just wanted to be born early—that’s what the doctor said. I just wanted to be alive, and experience… fuckin’ tables. Yeah, tables are great. You know, this table feels pretty nice. I like tables.” He said, grabbing the edges of the wood and rattling it. It squeaked. And from across the room I could see the bartender glaring.

James sat back in his seat and took a deep breath. “Did you talk to Gretchen?”

I nodded and kept silent for a minute.

“Well, what’d she say?”

“Nothing, really. She thinks she was attacked by a copy of herself.”

He slammed his glass down and facepalmed. “Fuck! What is with these crazy people in town? Are they hurting themselves? How does a copy of yourself attack you? What about Satan?”

I chuckled. “Right.” Poor guy didn’t realize Gretchen was being serious. But more than that, he didn’t see that she was right.

* * *

“I wish I could go back in time to a kid.” I said. Three beers deep. A couple shots. Multiple cigarettes.

“Why? Being a kid sucks. Didn’t your childhood suck?”

“Everyone’s childhood is unhappy, but that’s besides the point—I just felt… grounded. Back then, sitting at school lunch tables, there wasn’t a lot to make me unhappy. Yeah, I didn’t have parents. Yeah, I lived at an orphanage. But, I wasn’t working. I wasn’t paying bills. I didn’t have to take shit everyday and suck it up and yadda yadda ya.”

“You were happy.”
“Exactly. I just wish I could go back in time. You know? I wanna go back in time.”

* * *

It was now one-in-the-morning, and we hadn’t left our seats except to go to the bathroom. We just sat at our booth filling our stomachs with beer, and our lungs with smoke. But I guess there was that one time I stepped out to smoke a joint. James wanted one.

“Okay, say your in a room and a killer’s coming at you. He blocks the door. What do you do?” I said.

“Uh, jump out the window?”

“The window’s locked.”
James stared in confusion as the ash dropped from his cigarette and onto the table. It dispersed into a million little pieces. “I, uh, I hide under the couch?”

“Then you’re gonna die.”

“Okay, I don’t get whatever this is, dude. Maybe I’m just a little… you know—tipsy.”

My glass clinked against the table. “I’m completely plastered.” I said, with a completely stone face.

“You don’t look it.”

“I don’t look like many things. If I told you about my life, you wouldn’t believe.”

“Then try me.”

I paused for a moment, debating. There was one thing on my mind but I wasn’t sure if I should say it. “I see things, James. I see things like no other person.”
“Like… reading people?”
“No. It’s shamanic. I am a shaman.”
He stared at me with wide eyes and his mouth hangin’ open. “You’re a shaman?”

“Yes. There’s a spirit that talks to me in dreams—you know that night where I passed out here? I was talking to him.”

“…”
“He told me I’m in a time loop but I can break out of it in the future. His job is to guide me there, and alert me when I have that choice. But there’s more spirits I talk too—they’re friends. They were given to me by a lady in town named Gretchen. Supposedly, it means I’m living a myth. You know, when something in your life that only happens in a story? Yeah. Basically, their mission is to make sure I’m never alone. They succeed at that.”