32 GB - Mikhaiah Fanfiction

8 - Tell Tales

March 28, 2024 - Cebu City, Cebu

Alone in this strange, yet familiar place, I took a moment to gather myself. Everything felt upside down—like I was caught in some outlandish dream. The shock of it all hadn't worn off, but the old Humanities building stood there like an old friend, offering a shred of comfort in a world that made no sense. I had thought once again that Micah had gone off to her class, leaving me with time to myself—time I desperately needed to think, to explore, to make sense of this madness.

I began to wander the campus, letting my feet guide me while my mind raced, trying to stitch together the threads of my memories with this new, bewildering reality. Students bustled around me, caught up in their own lives, barely giving me a second glance. Everything was different—the clothes, the way they spoke, the strange gadgets they clung to as if their lives depended on them. It all felt so foreign, so alien, and yet... in some small, stubborn way, it was still the university I'd known. The purpose of this place hadn't changed: it was still a hub of learning, of youth and ambition. But that wasn't enough to settle the gnawing anxiety inside me.

I found myself back at the Humanities building, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. I pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside, my heart heavy with hope that somehow, this place might hold the key to understanding what had happened to me.

But as I wandered through the quiet corridors, taking in the worn banisters, the old photographs, the familiar scent of aged books and polished wood, my hope began to wither. I searched every nook and cranny, looked at every picture and plaque, hoping for a clue—something, anything—that could explain how I'd ended up here, in this impossible future.

But there was nothing.

Frustration welled up inside me. It was as if the world had moved on and left me behind, with not a single thread to follow back to my own time. I had hoped that this place, with all its memories, would give me something to hold onto. Instead, it felt like I was grasping at shadows, trying to find meaning in a world that had none to offer me.

I sat down by a window, staring out at the campus grounds with a mix of anger and despair. I needed answers, but they seemed to slip further away with every step I took. What was I supposed to do now? Where was I supposed to go? My mind churned with questions, but there were no answers, only the overwhelming sense that I was utterly lost.

When I finally met Micah again, the frustration was still gnawing at me, but I managed a smile as she approached. She had a way of making this strange new world seem a little less daunting, and for that, I was grateful. We started walking together, and before I knew it, the words began to spill out—stories of my past, of a time when the world was simpler, at least in my memory.

"I used to come here when I needed to clear my head," I began, gesturing vaguely at the campus around us. "Back then, the university grounds were my escape. I'd take my camera and with the click of the shutter that made you feel like you were capturing a piece of the world forever."

Micah's eyes lit up with interest. "You were into photography?"

"Oh, I loved it, I hadn't done it in a while though, ever since I started my job, I was a teacher" I said, the memory bringing a warmth to my voice. "But there was always something so satisfying about it. About how you had to develop the film, and then—only then—would you see if you'd captured what you hoped you had. It was a bit like magic. With taking photos you really have to rely on luck."

"It's not, well not now. With the technology we have now, we could see it right after." Micah replies

We walked past a spot that made me stop in my tracks. The greenery here had changed—modern landscaping, I supposed—but it was still lush and inviting. I could almost see my younger self, standing there with my camera, angling for the perfect shot of the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves.

"I used to take pictures right here," I said softly, pointing to a patch of grass that now seemed almost too manicured. "It didn't look quite like this back then, but it was beautiful in its own way. The trees were different, the flowers wild and untamed. I'd spend hours trying to capture just the right angle of light through the branches, or the way the wind moved through the grass."

Micah looked around, trying to imagine the scene as I described it. "It must've been something special," she said, her voice gentle.

"It was," I replied, my tone tinged with nostalgia. "I always felt like I was freezing a moment in time, preserving it for the future. Little did I know, I'd end up here—seeing the future with my own eyes."

We continued walking, and as we did, I found that the frustration I'd felt earlier had dulled, replaced by a bittersweet sense of connection. Though the world around me had changed, and though I was far from home in more ways than one, there were still pieces of the past that I could hold onto. And sharing those pieces with Micah made them feel a little more real, a little less lost to time.

As we continued walking, Micah turned to me with a thoughtful expression. "You know," she began, "when we get back home, I could show you my cameras. They're not like the old film ones you're used to, but they're pretty amazing in their own way. I could teach you how to use them."

I looked at her, surprised by the offer. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Of course," she replied with a smile. "I think you'd get a kick out of it. The technology's different, sure, but the essence of photography—capturing a moment, telling a story—that hasn't changed. I bet you'd pick it up quickly."

The idea intrigued me. The thought of learning something new, something that could help me connect with this time, was more comforting than I'd expected. "I'd like that," I said, feeling a small spark of excitement amidst the uncertainty. "It sounds... fascinating, really."

Micah's smile widened, and she nodded. "Great! We'll start with the basics, and before you know it, you'll be taking pictures just like you used to—only now, you'll get to see the results instantly."

I chuckled at the thought. "That'll be something new. No more waiting for the film to develop, huh?"

"Nope, not unless you want to," Micah teased. 

I found myself looking forward to it. I thought that maybe this would be a way to bridge the gap between my past and my bewildering present—a way to bring a piece of who I was into the here and now. The world around me might have changed beyond recognition, but the art of capturing moments, of seeing beauty in the everyday, was something that could transcend time. And I thought maybe, just maybe, it was something I could hold onto.