Rebirth

Chapter 1

Andy stepped out of the taxi, and sniffed into the air. The fresh smell of America. A new place to discover for Andy Über, a German traveller.

Andy paid his fair, and held onto his single suitcase. Being a world traveller, Andy usually doesn't pack much. He looked up at the apartments he would be staying in, popping infront of the bright night.

The apartment was brick red, with lots of windows on the face of the apartment. It wasn't the best, to which Andy could see from the cracks on the building, and cobwebs on the windows.

Andy entered into the lobby building. A red carpet, with light gray walls with cobwebs on the corners, and some cracks dug in the walls. Two brown couches faced each other on the sides of the room. At the back of the room was the apartment register, a brown table with a book and a pen. An old lady stood behind the desk, with that old lady smile on her face.

Andy walked up to the desk, "I'd like to stay at this apartment for awhile." The old lady gave a short nod, and then passed the book and pen across the desk. "Sign your name, and I'll give you the keys to your room," she said softly, pointing at the page. Andy picked up the pen, and began scribbling his name down on the line the old lady showed him.

Andy passed the book and pen back to her, to which she looked at and read. She looked up at Andy and exclaimed, "Oh? For a German, you sure do speak fluent English. Why, you don't even have an accent!"

Andy gave a smile at the sweet old lady and responded, "I was always the odd one out. I was never. . . proud to be who I am. For what we did to the world. . . I truly admired Americans."

The old lady nodded again, and then reached under her desk and pulled out a key. "Room 27, 2st floor, second door to the end."

Andy grabbed the keys and asked, "What's your name?" The old lady smiled at Andy and said, "Isabell Jane."

Andy nodded with his strong smile, and approached the elevators. He called it in, and then began to wait. A cockroach ran up the wall beside Andy. Andy watched it, pondering the truth between how life began.

The elevator doors opened up, and Andy stepped in. He turned back around, and saw Isabella look at him, waving with a smile. As the doors closed, Andy waved back.

Andy saw his reflection in the elevator door. Short black hair, the front of it hanging off his head. Brown eyes, behind a young smooth face. Andy's only problem was a scar down his throat. A scar he got during a car crash, nearly killing him.

The elevator doors opened up, and Andy walked into the long hallway. Brown carpet, and tan walls. Andy walked down the hallway, holding onto his room keys.

Andy made it to his room, and unlocked the door. He turned the knob, and pushed the door open. The room was decent. Shiny dark wooden floor, an expensive floor for such a cheap apartment. Light orange walls that have obviously age, for the paint has begun peeling off.

Andy settled the suitcase beside the door as he walked in. The room was simple. A couch and a TV on the right side of the room, and three other rooms. One presumably leading to the bedroom and bathroom.

Andy approached the other door, which was to the left of the room.

He opened the white door, and found a comfy room. The carpet was a light shade of brown, the walls a darker brown. There was a light orange desk, with a computer. Unfortunately, it was an old computer. White computer frame, and a huge screen.

Beside the desk was a window, that looks down the street. The bottom right corner of the window was broken, but Andy wasn't worried. The window was in an unreachable place from the outside.

Andy searched the desk, opening and closing the drawers. Andy found a red notebook. The front cover seemed worned out. Andy picked it up, and placed it on the desk. He opened the notebook up, and saw the first page. The date marked June 7th, 2000, on the top right corner of the page.

"Twenty years ago. . ." Andy whispered to himself. Above the date was the name, "Isaac Jefferson." Andy began scanning through the pages, thinking it would be a book or a story. Instead, the first few pages were just notes and some theories. Andy closed the notebook, and yawned.

"It's better to get some sleep. I'll probably read the journal tomorrow morning when I can concentrate more."

Andy walked out of the study room, and walked to the bed. He snuggled under the covers, and prepared for sleep.

Andy opened the journal, and took a sip of his coffee. The notes began with a theory of Rebirth, similar to Buddhism. "Sometimes new life is born, other times old life is reborn into a new body." The notes began.

The notes continue on talking about Rebirth. How the legends of constant good men arrive, that it's really only a few souls inside so many bodies time after time.

The notes went on to pointing out how bad men never have other men following their practices or ways.

The notes then went on to the belief of no heaven or hell. Just rebirth.

"Interesting. . ." Andy said to himself, taking another sip of his coffeee. Andy was an Atheist. So the idea of no heaven or hell was agreeable, but this Rebirth thing sounded silly. There was little to no proof on the idea, just small theories that have small chances of being true.

Andy skipped through pages until one page had big letters covering almost the entire page. "FOR MY REBORN SELF" The letters spelled out. Andy turned the page, and saw the title of "Life."

"A story?" Andy asked himself, raising an eyebrow. He began to read through the pages. It wasn't an story. Instead, it appeared to be an auto biography on the man who wrote this book.

Andy took another sip of his coffee, and began to read about this man's life.

An hour had passed, and Andy had barely reached to the passing of 5th grade. The author really put in details about his life, from descriptions to family, pets, and his own home.

That's when Andy found a paragraph that felt way too familiar. The paragraph expressed the lost of the author's mother. The author and his mother were in the subways, when a small group of street thugs approache them. They attempted to steal the mother's purse, but she fought back. One of the thugs pulled a gun and shot the mother in the head, inbetween the eyes.

Andy dropped his cup of coffee. His hands began trembling--no--his whole body was trembling now. Andy felt it pulsing through his brain. Memories and knowledge. Memories that weren't in his lifetime, but memories that he had read about in the journal.

Andy fainted, falling back of his chair.

An hour had passed, and Andy opened his eyes. His head ached horribly, but everything else felt fine. Andy stood up, and grabbed his head. The pulsing was gone, it just felt like the brain was swelling from too much memory inside. It's as if the brain went over its capacity.

Andy closed his eyes and tried to get his brain straight. Memories were flying all over his brain, appearing in and out.

Andy got a memory of some boy at school, . Andy knew his name. Isaac Jefferson.

"This isn't my memory. . . No. . ." Andy groaned. He slammed his hands on his desk, and began breathing heavily.

"I remember. . . Rebirth. I must tell everyone!" Andy said to himself, with a big grin on his face.