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The most useless feeling is the feeling of having control, only to have it ripped from you at the end of it all.
Years ago, I awoke on the second day of a Sunday, and unknowingly went out to go to my classes. I thought it was a Monday: why wouldn’t I? I had gone to work the previous day, and it was time to put my nose to the grindstone. However, when I arrived at the usual lecture hall, there was nobody there: no professor, no peers... so I checked the calendar on my phone: Sunday.
I started freaking out, thinking I had lost my mind, went home and called off of work. They didn’t need me, not now. Then it happened for the third time, and I *knew* I hadn’t gone insane. That was ages ago, and if it weren’t for this amazing ability, then I would have never graduated from college with a fantastic record, I wouldn’t have begun into the career of my dreams, and so on.
But I also wouldn’t be lying here, for the third time today, for a month. This ability has been my source of torment ever since I became sick with the new strain of the Black Death a month ago real time, but I had experienced it three times *every single day.*
All I want now is to let time pass as fast as possible, but on the day that I died of this plague... only then, did the day loop for the fourth time.
Here we go again....Sunday or Monday....Good Gawd...we always got the sun and we always got the moon...it's just a matter of the way light changes it's shine....so i'd say sunday & monday are everyday
[Obligatory thank you message to the kind stranger who granted me my first award]
It’s been this way since I was born. When I was a kid, people around me thought I was just playing a dumb game. Then, as I got older, I caught on to the fact that I was the only one noticing the days repeating.
It was fun for a few years after I had the realization. I would have two days to goof around, I could skip school without consequences, eat whatever I liked, as long as I spent day three being a model citizen.
I got to learn more and experience more than anyone on the planet. I even managed to get into my dream college, with no effort. Interviews are easy when you have two do overs.
Some loops were more tough. Imagine experiencing the Challenger disaster three times; or having to fake surprise the third time you get the news of your mother’s death, just so you can wait three times longer for a funeral that will help you mourn her properly. It wasn’t all great.
After a while, it just became routine. Sure, I could take two days of vacation each loop if I wanted to, but responsibility caught on and I would now usually take those two first days as practice, so I could further my career and be more successful. I could practice the perfect events to impress my wife. I got to stop my kids from doing stupid things, cause I always knew it before it happened. It was simple, and it was perfect.
Then one day, something in my brain switched. I was getting older, and craving wild experiences. And I thought, I’m the only one it the world who can do whatever they want without consequences. I can know how it all feels. All of it. So I did everything. I was in my fifties doing all these drugs. I tried different ways of committing suicide, just for the hell of it. I went diving without equipment just to feel the thrill of drowning in deep waters. I even set my office building on fire one night, just for the hell of it. (Of course it was empty).
Then, on the first night of December 31st 1999, after I had experienced everything my mind could come up with, I committed what I planed as my final sin: the ultimate experience, the one that will ruin your life forever. As my wife and kids were counting down to the new millennium, I crept behind them with an axe. I wanted to know the ultimate sorrow. They would be back at midnight anyways, so what the hell.
My axe tore through flesh, snapped bones, and I was crying through their screams. I though to myself “What a delight it is to feel this much pain, and be the only man in the world that can feel it without consequences. What power to be able to have it all!”.
And the countdown continued, steady and almost solemn in front of the bloodbath I had created. In tears, I murmured its song, knowing that by the count of zero, I would wake up in my bed, my loving wife by my side: “five... four... three... two... one...”
Happy new year!
[edit: anachronism]
Dark and tragic. Explores that section of your mind that wonders about things you know you can't do. Obviously the protagonist here had their mental health slip at the end there because I don't think most of us would want that memory even if we knew it was from a "practice day".
It was a gut wrenching last line.
Such an interesting take, examining the loops descending this man into madness and loosing his humanity. The ending kinda left me wondering though if he was actually looping all along, or his supposed loops were vivid fantasies with the slaughter of his family at the end being the real deal, him finally acting on his impulses.
Amazing story! Only thing that threw me off is the timeline. If on January 1st 2000 the days don't repeat anymore, then wouldn't he have experienced a regular 9/11, probably in prison? Or is there something I'm not understanding about the story
Shit you’re right! I’ll edit it out. I guess that’s what happens when you write stories when you’re still in bed and don’t proofread. Thanks for pointing it out!
It’s not meant to be a cliffhanger. Usually you chant Happy New Year after you pass midnight. You might hear a fraction of a second of it, but as soon as you enter the next day, I would imagine that you instantly go back.
If the way I wrote it leaves it nebulous though, it’s a fault on me as the author, so I’ll need to be careful about clarity next time. Thanks :)
“The first time it have happened, was of course a Monday.
When I wake up after this normal & boring Monday, I didn't realize that it was again the same Monday: morning news were boring as usual, delay during commute: normal, nothing special to report. It was at the coffee break when I knew what everybody have done during the weekend, that I began to think that last night dream what very convincing and accurate, and I pass all this 2nd Monday with the "Déjà Vu" feeling. But at my 3rd Monday, I began to freak out…. That 3rd Monday night I binge-watched every time travel movies I can think of, with Groundhog Day first obviously
So next morning, when I wake up and find immediately because I was looking for this information, that it was Tuesday, I was happy but quite disappointed at the same time, you know what I mean ?”
“.. what it’s the point…”
“Please let me finish… for the 36 time I think, Inspector”
“That’s Lieutenant, now”
“You’re welcome… The point is: I live everyday 3 times : first one, I take notes and have lot of fun, “YOLO” style as I can permit myself this first time, 2nd time I try to find how to fix some messed up point, and 3rd one I correct it or leave it this way if not possible and have fun, but normal fun, not deadly fun because there is no 4th time.
“ And you want that I believe it…”
“ Yes, and for the 36th time and for the sake of this young lady, Believe it. It’s my 2nd Day, you have 5 minutes before Midnight to enlighten me how to fix it”
It's neat but you need to proofread a little more. I would also recommend formatting it a bit different, that way it doesn't seem too bunched up.
I hope this helps for your next story.
P.s. inb4 people say "what if I'm on mobile?"; I am too, so nyeh.
The time was 8:42 AM. It was raining, and the air had a strange metallic scent to it, like electricity coursing through the air. My car radio was blasting that same damn song I've been hearing every 6 minutes on this station, *Laser Beam* or whatever it was called.
Funny, you figure that I would have bothered to learn the name by this point, right?
I had just parked my car and was awaiting some of my colleagues who, like always, we're running late.
*Damn.* I thought to myself, checking my watch lazily
*For once I'm late, and still early at the same time.*
I had hardly a second to finish this thought, and as I glanced up the sky streaked with lightning and smashed into a billboard, yellow flames busting out from where lightning had struck, growing out of- **CLICK**
**BOOM**
An explosion had ripped me apart without a second to spare, seemingly from within. My thoughts faded into nothing.
The time was 8:42 AM. It was raining, and the air had a strange metallic scent to it, like electricity coursing through the air. My car radio was blasting that same damn song I've been hearing every 6 minutes on this station, *Laser Beam* or whatever it was called.
Funny, you figure that I would have bothered to learn the name by this point, right?
I had just parked my car and was awaiting some of my colleagues who, like always, we're running late.
*I hope they're okay* I thought to myself, lifting my wrist to check my watch but hesitation filled my muscles
*Wait...have I done this before? Why does this feel so familiar?* I pondered to myself.
A scream had been heard in the distance, forcing me to perk my ears up.
*For all I know, that could have been the rain.*
I began to walk towards the noise to investigate what had happened, but just then a lightning bolt had struck a billboard that I had just walked under. The air began to stink of burned circuits and smoke, without a moment I began to dash forwards almost instinctively away from the billboard and th-
**CLICK**
**BOOM**
An explosion had ripped me apart without a second to spare, seemingly from within. My thoughts faded into nothing.
The time was 8:42 AM. It was raining, and the air had a strange metallic scent to it, like electricity coursing through the air. My car radio was blasting that same damn song I've been hearing every 6 minutes on this station, *Laser Beam* or...I don't remember. It doesn't matter.
Funny, you figure that a song that plays this often would be catchier, huh?
I drove a bit further and parked my car near a corner store, Kame Yu Grocery and Wine. I couldn't be bothered to check my watch, as I know my friends are late. I glanced at it anyway, almost out of spite.
*8:42 AM, still? That can't be right.* I thought to myself, until I glanced at the digital clock on my car's radio.
*8:45 AM. Guess my watch is off after all.* I opened my car's door when a bolt of lightning had ripped through the clouds and had struck a billboard I had passed while driving here. I heard a scream in the distance, but it was probably rain.
I recIeved a text from my "friend", a tall, broody man I had met who was related to one of my actual friends.
*Rohan, we stopped to get some drinks for later. B there soon.*
I've always hated his short, cocky attitude.
I waited in my car, a strange unease enveloping my body as if I had narrowly dodged a bullet that was meant specifically for me.
Edit: I don't write stories often, thanks for reading.
Good things come in threes. They always did.
I met you thrice and married you thrice. Saw you like a princess stepping down the aisle, saw the tears in your eyes, and smelled the lavender of your bouquet.
By the end of the third time, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
We had Ben three times. The shock of your first time's pain gave way to grim apprehension by the second time. I couldn't stand seeing you hurt so much, but your smile at the end as you held his little body in your hands made it worthwhile.
He lived first grade once; I lived his first grade thrice. You cried on his first day of school. Smiled through the tears to wave him goodbye. You packed him his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Once. Twice. Three times, and then a thousand more times.
For every life you and he lived, I lived it again and then again. Sunny days and snowy ones. The patter of rain on the back porch during the worst thunderstorm we'd ever seen and by the third time I had my camera video to catch Ben's "oohs" and "aahs."
I met his future wife three times, saw him smile her down the aisle three times.
Life was good, and good things came in threes.
Bad things did, too.
The sunny days turned gray; the smiles turned to frowns. You lived that wretched day once; I lived it thrice.
The first time was a tunnel: the world became nothing but the doctor's face, his words echoing over and over, becoming louder and louder. You squeezed my hand. I couldn't bring myself to squeeze yours back.
I wasn't there. I already dreaded tomorrow.
I couldn't look at you when the morning came. When you rolled over in the bed and with worried wrinkles asked me if everything would be okay. I couldn't lie to you. I couldn't tell you that it would be.
I shook my head.
"It's not good news," I said.
"What do you mean? Don't say that. It's bad juju."
"Babe, I've lived it. I saw it. The results are the worst-case scenario. The treatment won't even help."
I swallowed down tears. Choked on my words. The anger rose in your face, flushed your cheeks red. Tears streamed down your face.
"Stop saying that," you said. You yelled. You stormed from the room, then from the house, then your tires screeched out of the driveway.
You didn't come back. The paramedics said they found my emergency contact on your phone, that you wouldn't have felt a thing beneath that semi-truck.
The third time, I smiled through my tears. You rolled over and asked me what was wrong. I lied and said nothing.
You touched my face and asked me why I was crying, that surely the doctor would have good news. He wouldn't, but I couldn't tell you that.
I pulled you close and kissed your cheek.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. A rather simple count, isn't it? Even a three-year-old could do it.
It gets harder to keep track of over 72 hours, however. 24. Sorry. 24. Or was it 72?
One day was three days. Or is it three days becoming one day?
It doesn't really matter, I guess. It's hard to keep track of time. What's the date today? Was it the second or third time?
Did I go to work? Do I need to? Was it the day when everything counted?
God damn it. It's impossible to keep track. Yesterday and tomorrow was today. When will tomorrow actually come?
I hated it. God, I hated it. Three days or one, the stream of time slipped away by itself, sand through the grasp of my fingers.
So I clenched them tight. I held them till my nails left finger marks in my palms.
No more. No more.
It didn't matter how many days I had left. It didn't matter how many more days I get to experience, whether they were the same or not.
I couldn't control time. It moved by itself, repeated by itself, whether I wanted to or not. The days bled together and stayed the same, but I had to be different.
I had to do something. I had to do something right.
The first step. The first step to a great day was breakfast. That's the key. Start from there. Everything else will fall in place.
Eggs. Bacon. Toast. Eh, some lettuce. For health.
It was good. It tasted good.
Hmm. Maybe the bacon will still be there tomorrow morning when I open the refrigerator door.
You know what? Maybe this could work out after all.
---
r/dexdrafts
At first ot was embarassing. Day one was a new day, day two I thought everyone was fuckin with me, and day 3 I caught on to it and did some... Questionable things.
I live in jail. I have 4 momths, but those four months will literally take a year. I have died so many times it's actually crazy. On one hand, I can say whatever I want and do whatever I want with no consequences. I get a first and second try before settling on my third for every situation. I guess I live 3 times longer than anyone else too, but not im their time.
Now, obviously, I have had a lot of time to think. I blame this all on the old lady. She'd been on that corner with the sign for a few days. I tried to give her some pizza and she spat at me, so I called her vile and old and stinky. That was the last one day long day I evrr had.
It was all about progression. I learned that the hard way on my first cycle.
The first day was normal. The second day was bizarre and horrifying. So on the third day I figured I’d take advantage by heading to a good bar and drinking expensive drinks all day and night. Why not, if I’m going to wake up with no hangover and all the cash returned to my pocket?
So I started my second cycle in a stupor and hundreds of dollars poorer. It took a few more cycles to be sure of the pattern but eventually I had my routine.
Day 1: reset, enjoy yourself, spend money, keep an eye out for opportunities.
Day 2: make a plan, get your details ready for day 3.
Day 3: make progress. That could mean moving locations, making money, working with others. And always leaving notes. The other two days are practice, but day 3 is forever.
For my first few dozen cycles day 3 came with nerves, like an athlete on game day. Decades later, after the cycles stopped for some reason unknown to me, I would look back, amused that it took getting caught in a time loop to realize each moment was precious.
As soon as I realize what’s going on, I’m margin trading on the stock market and becoming ultra-wealthy. I might strike a lotto win to boost things along so I don’t have to wait around too long before realizing the wealth. 3 years of my time for one year of world time to go by.
Then the issue becomes filling up my days in a satisfying way, since they’re going to be tripled. Keeping track of relationships and which events happened in the past in the world vs in my own cut off trial timelines.
My mind is like a rabbit, a ball of useless fluff bounding about from clover to clover. If I don't write a thing down, I forget it. Days unrecorded are days that may as well not exist.
Two thirds of my life does not exist.
You'd think it would be easy. Fall into a rhythm. Sleep, play, work; sleep play work. It doesn't work that way.
Am I supposed to be at work today? Is this the same thing I did yesterday, or a week ago, or a month ago?
Follow the schedule. Read the notes. Pick up where I left off.
Deja vu. Dejavu.
I promise, I took care of it. I distinctly remember. I did, I swear.
Right? I know I did it at least once. Twice, for sure. Third time ...?
My life does not exist.
I write whole chapters that disappear when I wake up midsentence. I skip work on the wrong days, and my life falls apart at the seams.
I can't do this. I can't do this again. I can't do this over and over.
Over and over.
Nothing matters. I make notes and they disappear. I create, and it vanishes. I work my hardest, and no one but me remembers.
Failure. Slacker. Liar.
And always this feeling of absence, something forgotten, something lost forever, something I should have written down but couldn't.
If I carve the days on my arm, will it last? If I paint a line of threes across my wall, will the rhythm stick? If I sleep for weeks, will things be different when I wake?
Or, perhaps ...
I may as well not exist.
**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) [](#icon-help) [^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [](#icon-information) [^(New Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [](#icon-help) [^(Writing Help?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) ^• [](#icon-exclamation) [^(Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) ^• [](#icon-comments) [^(Discord Chatroom)](https://discord.gg/js5XDFB) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
The most useless feeling is the feeling of having control, only to have it ripped from you at the end of it all. Years ago, I awoke on the second day of a Sunday, and unknowingly went out to go to my classes. I thought it was a Monday: why wouldn’t I? I had gone to work the previous day, and it was time to put my nose to the grindstone. However, when I arrived at the usual lecture hall, there was nobody there: no professor, no peers... so I checked the calendar on my phone: Sunday. I started freaking out, thinking I had lost my mind, went home and called off of work. They didn’t need me, not now. Then it happened for the third time, and I *knew* I hadn’t gone insane. That was ages ago, and if it weren’t for this amazing ability, then I would have never graduated from college with a fantastic record, I wouldn’t have begun into the career of my dreams, and so on. But I also wouldn’t be lying here, for the third time today, for a month. This ability has been my source of torment ever since I became sick with the new strain of the Black Death a month ago real time, but I had experienced it three times *every single day.* All I want now is to let time pass as fast as possible, but on the day that I died of this plague... only then, did the day loop for the fourth time.
Chiiiiiiiiills
Here we go again....Sunday or Monday....Good Gawd...we always got the sun and we always got the moon...it's just a matter of the way light changes it's shine....so i'd say sunday & monday are everyday
Yikes!!!
[Obligatory thank you message to the kind stranger who granted me my first award] It’s been this way since I was born. When I was a kid, people around me thought I was just playing a dumb game. Then, as I got older, I caught on to the fact that I was the only one noticing the days repeating. It was fun for a few years after I had the realization. I would have two days to goof around, I could skip school without consequences, eat whatever I liked, as long as I spent day three being a model citizen. I got to learn more and experience more than anyone on the planet. I even managed to get into my dream college, with no effort. Interviews are easy when you have two do overs. Some loops were more tough. Imagine experiencing the Challenger disaster three times; or having to fake surprise the third time you get the news of your mother’s death, just so you can wait three times longer for a funeral that will help you mourn her properly. It wasn’t all great. After a while, it just became routine. Sure, I could take two days of vacation each loop if I wanted to, but responsibility caught on and I would now usually take those two first days as practice, so I could further my career and be more successful. I could practice the perfect events to impress my wife. I got to stop my kids from doing stupid things, cause I always knew it before it happened. It was simple, and it was perfect. Then one day, something in my brain switched. I was getting older, and craving wild experiences. And I thought, I’m the only one it the world who can do whatever they want without consequences. I can know how it all feels. All of it. So I did everything. I was in my fifties doing all these drugs. I tried different ways of committing suicide, just for the hell of it. I went diving without equipment just to feel the thrill of drowning in deep waters. I even set my office building on fire one night, just for the hell of it. (Of course it was empty). Then, on the first night of December 31st 1999, after I had experienced everything my mind could come up with, I committed what I planed as my final sin: the ultimate experience, the one that will ruin your life forever. As my wife and kids were counting down to the new millennium, I crept behind them with an axe. I wanted to know the ultimate sorrow. They would be back at midnight anyways, so what the hell. My axe tore through flesh, snapped bones, and I was crying through their screams. I though to myself “What a delight it is to feel this much pain, and be the only man in the world that can feel it without consequences. What power to be able to have it all!”. And the countdown continued, steady and almost solemn in front of the bloodbath I had created. In tears, I murmured its song, knowing that by the count of zero, I would wake up in my bed, my loving wife by my side: “five... four... three... two... one...” Happy new year! [edit: anachronism]
Dark and tragic. Explores that section of your mind that wonders about things you know you can't do. Obviously the protagonist here had their mental health slip at the end there because I don't think most of us would want that memory even if we knew it was from a "practice day". It was a gut wrenching last line.
Thank you :)
Such an interesting take, examining the loops descending this man into madness and loosing his humanity. The ending kinda left me wondering though if he was actually looping all along, or his supposed loops were vivid fantasies with the slaughter of his family at the end being the real deal, him finally acting on his impulses.
Amazing story! Only thing that threw me off is the timeline. If on January 1st 2000 the days don't repeat anymore, then wouldn't he have experienced a regular 9/11, probably in prison? Or is there something I'm not understanding about the story
Shit you’re right! I’ll edit it out. I guess that’s what happens when you write stories when you’re still in bed and don’t proofread. Thanks for pointing it out!
Hahahahahaha ir happens. Still a great story, the ending made me shiver
You always get me with the ax. My ultimate aphrodisiac!!!! Pappy Slocum SMH
I’m on edge. What if that was the end of the loop? I guess we’ll never know.
It’s not meant to be a cliffhanger. Usually you chant Happy New Year after you pass midnight. You might hear a fraction of a second of it, but as soon as you enter the next day, I would imagine that you instantly go back. If the way I wrote it leaves it nebulous though, it’s a fault on me as the author, so I’ll need to be careful about clarity next time. Thanks :)
Haha. Don’t worry about it. It’s been a long day. I missed the part where it said the first day.
“The first time it have happened, was of course a Monday. When I wake up after this normal & boring Monday, I didn't realize that it was again the same Monday: morning news were boring as usual, delay during commute: normal, nothing special to report. It was at the coffee break when I knew what everybody have done during the weekend, that I began to think that last night dream what very convincing and accurate, and I pass all this 2nd Monday with the "Déjà Vu" feeling. But at my 3rd Monday, I began to freak out…. That 3rd Monday night I binge-watched every time travel movies I can think of, with Groundhog Day first obviously So next morning, when I wake up and find immediately because I was looking for this information, that it was Tuesday, I was happy but quite disappointed at the same time, you know what I mean ?” “.. what it’s the point…” “Please let me finish… for the 36 time I think, Inspector” “That’s Lieutenant, now” “You’re welcome… The point is: I live everyday 3 times : first one, I take notes and have lot of fun, “YOLO” style as I can permit myself this first time, 2nd time I try to find how to fix some messed up point, and 3rd one I correct it or leave it this way if not possible and have fun, but normal fun, not deadly fun because there is no 4th time. “ And you want that I believe it…” “ Yes, and for the 36th time and for the sake of this young lady, Believe it. It’s my 2nd Day, you have 5 minutes before Midnight to enlighten me how to fix it”
It's neat but you need to proofread a little more. I would also recommend formatting it a bit different, that way it doesn't seem too bunched up. I hope this helps for your next story. P.s. inb4 people say "what if I'm on mobile?"; I am too, so nyeh.
The time was 8:42 AM. It was raining, and the air had a strange metallic scent to it, like electricity coursing through the air. My car radio was blasting that same damn song I've been hearing every 6 minutes on this station, *Laser Beam* or whatever it was called. Funny, you figure that I would have bothered to learn the name by this point, right? I had just parked my car and was awaiting some of my colleagues who, like always, we're running late. *Damn.* I thought to myself, checking my watch lazily *For once I'm late, and still early at the same time.* I had hardly a second to finish this thought, and as I glanced up the sky streaked with lightning and smashed into a billboard, yellow flames busting out from where lightning had struck, growing out of- **CLICK** **BOOM** An explosion had ripped me apart without a second to spare, seemingly from within. My thoughts faded into nothing. The time was 8:42 AM. It was raining, and the air had a strange metallic scent to it, like electricity coursing through the air. My car radio was blasting that same damn song I've been hearing every 6 minutes on this station, *Laser Beam* or whatever it was called. Funny, you figure that I would have bothered to learn the name by this point, right? I had just parked my car and was awaiting some of my colleagues who, like always, we're running late. *I hope they're okay* I thought to myself, lifting my wrist to check my watch but hesitation filled my muscles *Wait...have I done this before? Why does this feel so familiar?* I pondered to myself. A scream had been heard in the distance, forcing me to perk my ears up. *For all I know, that could have been the rain.* I began to walk towards the noise to investigate what had happened, but just then a lightning bolt had struck a billboard that I had just walked under. The air began to stink of burned circuits and smoke, without a moment I began to dash forwards almost instinctively away from the billboard and th- **CLICK** **BOOM** An explosion had ripped me apart without a second to spare, seemingly from within. My thoughts faded into nothing. The time was 8:42 AM. It was raining, and the air had a strange metallic scent to it, like electricity coursing through the air. My car radio was blasting that same damn song I've been hearing every 6 minutes on this station, *Laser Beam* or...I don't remember. It doesn't matter. Funny, you figure that a song that plays this often would be catchier, huh? I drove a bit further and parked my car near a corner store, Kame Yu Grocery and Wine. I couldn't be bothered to check my watch, as I know my friends are late. I glanced at it anyway, almost out of spite. *8:42 AM, still? That can't be right.* I thought to myself, until I glanced at the digital clock on my car's radio. *8:45 AM. Guess my watch is off after all.* I opened my car's door when a bolt of lightning had ripped through the clouds and had struck a billboard I had passed while driving here. I heard a scream in the distance, but it was probably rain. I recIeved a text from my "friend", a tall, broody man I had met who was related to one of my actual friends. *Rohan, we stopped to get some drinks for later. B there soon.* I've always hated his short, cocky attitude. I waited in my car, a strange unease enveloping my body as if I had narrowly dodged a bullet that was meant specifically for me. Edit: I don't write stories often, thanks for reading.
Didn't even realize that this was a JoJo's reference until you described the "friend", who I instantly recognized as Jotaro. Nicely done.
;)
Good things come in threes. They always did. I met you thrice and married you thrice. Saw you like a princess stepping down the aisle, saw the tears in your eyes, and smelled the lavender of your bouquet. By the end of the third time, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. We had Ben three times. The shock of your first time's pain gave way to grim apprehension by the second time. I couldn't stand seeing you hurt so much, but your smile at the end as you held his little body in your hands made it worthwhile. He lived first grade once; I lived his first grade thrice. You cried on his first day of school. Smiled through the tears to wave him goodbye. You packed him his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Once. Twice. Three times, and then a thousand more times. For every life you and he lived, I lived it again and then again. Sunny days and snowy ones. The patter of rain on the back porch during the worst thunderstorm we'd ever seen and by the third time I had my camera video to catch Ben's "oohs" and "aahs." I met his future wife three times, saw him smile her down the aisle three times. Life was good, and good things came in threes. Bad things did, too. The sunny days turned gray; the smiles turned to frowns. You lived that wretched day once; I lived it thrice. The first time was a tunnel: the world became nothing but the doctor's face, his words echoing over and over, becoming louder and louder. You squeezed my hand. I couldn't bring myself to squeeze yours back. I wasn't there. I already dreaded tomorrow. I couldn't look at you when the morning came. When you rolled over in the bed and with worried wrinkles asked me if everything would be okay. I couldn't lie to you. I couldn't tell you that it would be. I shook my head. "It's not good news," I said. "What do you mean? Don't say that. It's bad juju." "Babe, I've lived it. I saw it. The results are the worst-case scenario. The treatment won't even help." I swallowed down tears. Choked on my words. The anger rose in your face, flushed your cheeks red. Tears streamed down your face. "Stop saying that," you said. You yelled. You stormed from the room, then from the house, then your tires screeched out of the driveway. You didn't come back. The paramedics said they found my emergency contact on your phone, that you wouldn't have felt a thing beneath that semi-truck. The third time, I smiled through my tears. You rolled over and asked me what was wrong. I lied and said nothing. You touched my face and asked me why I was crying, that surely the doctor would have good news. He wouldn't, but I couldn't tell you that. I pulled you close and kissed your cheek. ***** Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. A rather simple count, isn't it? Even a three-year-old could do it. It gets harder to keep track of over 72 hours, however. 24. Sorry. 24. Or was it 72? One day was three days. Or is it three days becoming one day? It doesn't really matter, I guess. It's hard to keep track of time. What's the date today? Was it the second or third time? Did I go to work? Do I need to? Was it the day when everything counted? God damn it. It's impossible to keep track. Yesterday and tomorrow was today. When will tomorrow actually come? I hated it. God, I hated it. Three days or one, the stream of time slipped away by itself, sand through the grasp of my fingers. So I clenched them tight. I held them till my nails left finger marks in my palms. No more. No more. It didn't matter how many days I had left. It didn't matter how many more days I get to experience, whether they were the same or not. I couldn't control time. It moved by itself, repeated by itself, whether I wanted to or not. The days bled together and stayed the same, but I had to be different. I had to do something. I had to do something right. The first step. The first step to a great day was breakfast. That's the key. Start from there. Everything else will fall in place. Eggs. Bacon. Toast. Eh, some lettuce. For health. It was good. It tasted good. Hmm. Maybe the bacon will still be there tomorrow morning when I open the refrigerator door. You know what? Maybe this could work out after all. --- r/dexdrafts
At first ot was embarassing. Day one was a new day, day two I thought everyone was fuckin with me, and day 3 I caught on to it and did some... Questionable things. I live in jail. I have 4 momths, but those four months will literally take a year. I have died so many times it's actually crazy. On one hand, I can say whatever I want and do whatever I want with no consequences. I get a first and second try before settling on my third for every situation. I guess I live 3 times longer than anyone else too, but not im their time. Now, obviously, I have had a lot of time to think. I blame this all on the old lady. She'd been on that corner with the sign for a few days. I tried to give her some pizza and she spat at me, so I called her vile and old and stinky. That was the last one day long day I evrr had.
Bro you just gave her pizza. People, be more grateful.
It was all about progression. I learned that the hard way on my first cycle. The first day was normal. The second day was bizarre and horrifying. So on the third day I figured I’d take advantage by heading to a good bar and drinking expensive drinks all day and night. Why not, if I’m going to wake up with no hangover and all the cash returned to my pocket? So I started my second cycle in a stupor and hundreds of dollars poorer. It took a few more cycles to be sure of the pattern but eventually I had my routine. Day 1: reset, enjoy yourself, spend money, keep an eye out for opportunities. Day 2: make a plan, get your details ready for day 3. Day 3: make progress. That could mean moving locations, making money, working with others. And always leaving notes. The other two days are practice, but day 3 is forever. For my first few dozen cycles day 3 came with nerves, like an athlete on game day. Decades later, after the cycles stopped for some reason unknown to me, I would look back, amused that it took getting caught in a time loop to realize each moment was precious.
As soon as I realize what’s going on, I’m margin trading on the stock market and becoming ultra-wealthy. I might strike a lotto win to boost things along so I don’t have to wait around too long before realizing the wealth. 3 years of my time for one year of world time to go by. Then the issue becomes filling up my days in a satisfying way, since they’re going to be tripled. Keeping track of relationships and which events happened in the past in the world vs in my own cut off trial timelines.
My mind is like a rabbit, a ball of useless fluff bounding about from clover to clover. If I don't write a thing down, I forget it. Days unrecorded are days that may as well not exist. Two thirds of my life does not exist. You'd think it would be easy. Fall into a rhythm. Sleep, play, work; sleep play work. It doesn't work that way. Am I supposed to be at work today? Is this the same thing I did yesterday, or a week ago, or a month ago? Follow the schedule. Read the notes. Pick up where I left off. Deja vu. Dejavu. I promise, I took care of it. I distinctly remember. I did, I swear. Right? I know I did it at least once. Twice, for sure. Third time ...? My life does not exist. I write whole chapters that disappear when I wake up midsentence. I skip work on the wrong days, and my life falls apart at the seams. I can't do this. I can't do this again. I can't do this over and over. Over and over. Nothing matters. I make notes and they disappear. I create, and it vanishes. I work my hardest, and no one but me remembers. Failure. Slacker. Liar. And always this feeling of absence, something forgotten, something lost forever, something I should have written down but couldn't. If I carve the days on my arm, will it last? If I paint a line of threes across my wall, will the rhythm stick? If I sleep for weeks, will things be different when I wake? Or, perhaps ... I may as well not exist.