totally meta

chapter one

Do you believe in the impossible?

I never did. In fact, I never believed much in anything. I used to go to church as a kid, because of my interesting stepmom. The hymns, the prayers, the preacher talking about salvation—none of it really stuck with me. They'd say things like, "God has a plan for each and every one of us," and I'd sit there, in that stiff wooden pew, staring up at the stained-glass windows, wondering what kind of plan involved me scraping by on coffee and trying to find a job. I never bought into the idea of destiny or higher purpose. Life was just life. You lived it, then it was over. Simple as that.

But now, as I lie here on the cold, wet sidewalk, staring at the grey clouds that just spat out a bolt of lightning straight into my chest, I'm not so sure.

It all started like any other morning. I woke up, laced up my running shoes, and hit the pavement. I always run the same route—down Third Avenue, past the old bookstore that never seems to be open, and around the corner to my favorite café. They make the best black coffee in the city, and I like to get there early before the morning rush starts. It's my ritual, my peace.

I had just passed the bookstore when the sky grumbled, a deep, low growl, warning of rain. I remember thinking I should hurry up, maybe cut my run short, but I was so close to the café, so close to that steaming cup of coffee, I figured I'd risk it. A little rain never hurt anyone, right?

Wrong.

I was running, minding my own business, when out of nowhere, the sky lit up like a strobe light at a club. I didn't even have time to process what was happening. There was this split second—this tiny, fraction of a moment—where everything around me just... stopped. The wind, the cars, the people walking with their umbrellas—frozen in time. And then, bang. A white-hot jolt, like fire ripping through my body.

I've seen lightning before, but I never thought I'd feel it. You know that saying, "a bolt from the blue?" That's what it was. It came out of nowhere, and it knocked me flat.

Now, here I am. On the ground. Can't move. Can't breathe. My heart's pounding so hard in my chest I think it's going to explode, but at the same time, it feels like it's stopped entirely. I'm alive—I think—but I can't really tell. My whole body feels... numb.

Is this it? Is this how it ends? On a sidewalk, outside a café, struck down by a freak accident?

Funny how your mind works when you're lying on the edge of death, if that's what this is. Suddenly, I'm thinking about all those sermons I ignored, all those warnings about being chosen, about the Almighty having a plan. I always thought it was bullshit. But now?

Maybe they were onto something.

I've been hit by lightning, for God's sake. What are the chances of that? What are the chances of being hit and still being alive? I mean, I'm not sure if I'm still alive right now, but I can feel the rain hitting my face, so that's got to count for something, right? I'm breathing, aren't I? Well, sort of.

I wonder if this is part of some cosmic joke. Like, is this the universe trying to wake me up? Maybe I was supposed to be struck down—chosen, even. But why me? There are a million other people in this city. Hell, there were three people walking next to me when it happened, and they're all fine. I'm the one lying here, smoking from the inside out.

Chosen.

Do you believe that? Do you believe we're chosen for a reason? I never did. I still don't think I do, but I'll tell you this: when you're lying on the ground, and you've just been struck by the wrath of a storm, it's hard not to wonder.

I can hear people rushing over now. Voices. They're distant, like they're coming through a tunnel, but I can hear them.

"Is he alive?"
"Oh my God, call 911!"
"Is he breathing?"

I want to tell them I'm fine, but my mouth won't work. I try to move, but I'm stuck here, staring at the sky. My chest burns, my legs won't respond, but my mind... my mind's wide awake, more awake than it's ever been.

What if this is it? What if this is some kind of divine intervention? Or worse, what if it's just dumb luck, and I'm about to become another statistic? Another one of those random stories people tell at parties: "Did you hear about the guy who got hit by lightning? Yeah, right on Third Avenue. Dead instantly."

But I'm not dead. Not yet.

The rain's starting to pour now, heavy drops bouncing off my skin. I can't feel them, but I can see them hitting the ground around me, darkening the concrete. I'm lying in a puddle, and all I can think is how cold the water is going to be. It's a stupid thing to think about when you're supposed to be dying, but there it is. The cold.

I close my eyes, and for the first time in a long time, I pray. I don't know who I'm praying to. God? Fate? The universe? I don't even know what I'm asking for. A second chance, maybe. An answer to a question I never thought to ask.

Do I believe in the impossible? Do I believe in destiny?

I don't know. But as the world fades into black and the sound of sirens fills the air, I can't help but wonder.

Maybe, just maybe, I'm about to find out.