Fake History

12 3 0
                                    

It is nearly four in the morning by the time I make it back home, and walk in. 

I quietly open the door, and find Ms. Emily passed out on the couch, Lilian nested into the crook of her arm. I smile and lock the door, grabbing the red plush blanket from the back of the chair and draping it over them. Brushing away the messy strawberry blonde bangs, I lean in and kiss her forehead.

"Good night you two" I murmur, before turning and walking into the kitchen.

I kick off my flats under the counter, and tap the cupboard menu for a wineglass.  I walk over to the stainless steel fridge, and put it in the ice dispenser. I tap the door of the fridge, above it, and a teal menu pops up. Scrolling through the selection which I know like the back of my hand, I pick the same one as usual-generic Chardonnay. It takes a second to start, something I've ask for a fix for the last three months. 

Grabbing the glass, I walk into my bedroom and set it on the nightstand. I walk into Lilian's room, thankful she isn't there right now. This would have been hard to do without waking her up. 

I tap the bookcase, and scroll to the very bottom. I select the last book, a older black-canvas bound one with red lettering that has two words: "Don't Panic". This bookcase is the only place in this world that can access this book, and I am one of only two who know about it. I set it aside, and turn back to the bookcase. This time, I select a history book. Holding them both to my chest, I walk back into my bedroom, settling under the dark purple comforter set. 

I open the history book first, and look at the insignia over every official building-A black oval with

 "From dust to dust

We are the light it dances in"

written across in elegant gold calligraphy. No one knows who wrote it or what it means, just that it has always been written on every official thing in this world. 

I flip to the glossary in the back, of the book, and pick up my wine glass. I lift it to take a sip, savoring the rich sweetness, and the mellow hint of chocolate that coats my mouth and just pairs nicely with anything, especially a nice, freshly baked  raspberry cookie. 

Wait a minute. 

It's chocolate milk that does that, not wine. I take another sip and sure enough, it was chocolate milk with the appearance and smell of Chardonnay.

This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder. 

I set the glass back on the nightstand, and run my finger over the book- it has numerous entries for L, but none of them mention anything about a Link. I am about to close the book, and an idea hits me. I flip back a few pages, and look up Hunter. Finding a listing under Hunter Grey, I tap to go to that page, and am astonished at what I see.

It's him alright. His green eyes are staring at me through the picture as I read the section title.

"Hunter Grey: A man who shall never be allowed to walk on Earth again"

Re-DoWhere stories live. Discover now