12 Strokes of Midnight

Chapter 16

CopyrightⒸ 2019 by B. R. Bailey All Rights Reserved

Instead of water flooding my lungs, I breathe in cool air.

Daring to open my eyes a crack, a bright light blinds me.

I died.

No, the pain in my forehead and shoulder sing otherwise. Wincing, I sit up, peeking through my fingers in the blinding light.

My room, in my grandparents' house, comes into hazy view.

Home.

Blankets tangle in my feet as I rise, spinning slowly to confirm that this is really, really real.

I'm really back!

A knock on the door catches my attention."Ray, breakfast is done!"

Grandma!

As I rush to the door, I realize that I'm only in my underwear.

And Grandma is calm like I haven't been missing for almost 2 weeks.

Was this all just a dream then?

Running to my closet, I pull out clothes randomly, jumping as I pull on my shorts.

Something cold presses against my back, making me pause.

Reaching back, I feel my journal, tucked into the back of my underwear, where I put it before heading outside...

Slowly, not daring to breathe, I pull the journal out, seeing the rippled pages. Rippled after being waterlogged in the ocean.

Undoing the tie string, with shaking fingers, I open the book to the last pages, seeing my writing in the bright light.

"Dear Journal.

You'll never believe what happened today. Maybe you will. You're here in the past with me after all..."

Gasping, I drop the notebook.

"Not a dream," I mumble, numb with shock.

"Ray?" Grandma knocks on my door again.

"Almost ready!" I shout, kicking the journal under my bed.

This is my future, I remind myself. Archimedes made his own time great. I can do the same.

Once in the dining room, I walk up the Grandpa, who's drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper.

"Grandpa?"

He looks up, dropping his paper.

"Yes, Ray?"

"I will golf on one condition," I state, lifting my finger. "I understand you just want to help me and I respect that, so I will oblige your help. When I grow up, will you respect my own decisions and honor them like I'm honoring yours right now? In writing."

So I can prove this to Mom and Dad and maybe get them to do the same.

Lifting his eyebrows, he tilts his head back and laughs, holding his stomach.

"Forget golf," he gasps, "you should be a lawyer!"

Grandma comes around the table and grips my shoulder before kissing the top of my head. "Does that mean Ray doesn't have to golf?"

"I'd like to golf if I can do other stuff too," I admit, looking up at her before turning back to Grandpa.

"Well, I was being hard on you. It's just," he runs a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. "When I was young, I had to work hard to get myself through school. Your dad did the same. I thought that if you did this, it would give you more freedom later on.