You remember scheduling the appointment to have your wisdom teeth removed. You remember the mask being lowered over your nose and mouth. You remember the world slowly turning black.
You’ve just regained consciousness. You’re on a train. There’s a briefcase handcuffed to your wrist. Searching your pockets, you find a note.
I carefully opened the note, my thoughts rushing a million ways at once. In the note, I read “If you’re reading this, it’s too late”. What could that mean? What was going on? Suddenly, without any reason it seemed, my mind was filled with a thumping sound. I caught the eyes of a man passing by, and motioned erratically for him to come over. “I need some medicine, anything. I might have a migraine…I-I don’t know,” I stammered to him. Confused, the man reached into his pocket and rusted around until he came up with a bottle of pills. I swallowed them down and thanked the stranger for his kindness; the thumping was starting to lessen.
Turning my attention to the briefcase handcuffed to me, I peered at the heavy lock preventing me to open it. I didn’t understand what the note could mean, and how it correlated to the briefcase. Jolting to a stop, the train whistled a high, screeching note. A scrawny young boy stopped by my seat. “This is your stop, Miss. It’s time for you to get off,” he said in a nasally voice, not yet deepened by adulthood. I slid out from my seat and walked to the exit. When the doors opened, I had to shield my eyes from the sun. It seemed so much brighter than usual, almost as if it was a lamp pointed directly at me. I rubbed my eyes and stood dazed; people bumped into my sides and pushed my tired body around the sidewalk. My head still bumped and thumped, pulsing with every soft beat. When will the noise end? Where was I supposed to go from here?
Walking without much intention, my feet took control. I wound up in an empty street lined with shop windows. Their displays were varied and different; some harbored bright clothing with fancy bows, while others were adorned with muted grays and dusty books. My mind was filled with more noise; a voice entered it that was strangely familiar. I couldn’t understand the words, they were muffled like the thumps and sounds that surrounded it. Feeling strangely heavy, I pressed my weight against the glass of a shop. Looking across the lonely street, I almost overlooked him- a man hidden in the shadows, eyes glowing at me. I could feel his gaze locked on my wrist- the one holding the briefcase.
Curiosity took hold and drew me closer to his store. With ever step, the noise within my head grew. The voice grew louder and every muffled word seemed to grow in intention, while beats grew more complex and varied. Thoughts were unable to process in my head, with the exception of one- “If you’re reading this, it’s too late”.
I pushed the door open and stumbled into the room. The air seemed to buzz and the shadows grew heavy. The man’s reached out to me, he grabbed my wrist. With ease, he turned the lock’s knob and it fell to the ground. The briefcase opened and I heard the sound of plastic hitting wooden floor. Bending over to pick the objects up, I suddenly realized how familiar they felt. Bringing them up to the light, I realized they were CD’s. The man turned me to look at him. “Drake, is that you?” I asked. “Yes,” he replied in an emotion filled voice. “I have blessed you.”
I woke up with a jolt. My ear buds fell out of my ears and I stared at them as the sounds I’d been hearing faded away. My cheeks were still puffy from the surgery, and my thoughts lagged from the drugs still. Pressing the home button on my phone, it lit up with an album cover- “If You’re Reading This, It’s Too Late”.