Two Weeks And A Day

Day 15

Prompt: ConCorp are hosting a film screening called "14 days." Cleo remembers the events of all 14 stories as if she were there. Trouble is, none of the other stories happened in this timeline.

"Give it back."

Cleo held out her hand to a confused Evil X. She knew he had the journal, even if it had been ripped up pretty badly last loop. EX just gave her a confused look, eyes almost glazed. Although perhaps that was just his helmet.

"What's it?" He inquired, in a surprisingly genuine manner.

"My journal. The one you stole a couple loops ago." Cleo retorted, convinced she was being lied to.

The two bickered for a good while, both parties increasingly confounded, before they suddenly found themselves vexed in more than one manner. Scar and Cub materialised out of seemingly nowhere, causing Cleo and Evil X to jump. They handed each one a flyer, and vanished off, presumably to hand out more.

ConCorp Worldwide film festival!

14 of the most talented villagers in ConCorp Worldwide have come together to produce 14 movies, for a wonderful evening. Every Hermit and alter ego is is invited! (Some) refreshments will be provided. The movies will be shown as follows:

1. A Stable Paradox, 2. Imaginary Friend, 3. Dreams And Omens, 4. 50/50, 5. Control, 6. Wolves And Gems, 7. Viral, 8. One Of Us, 9. The Poet, 10. Dragonshape, 11. Print: 'Hello World', 12. Colourblind, 13. Abyssal Ally, 14. Awoken.

See you there!

Cleo scanned the leaflet thoroughly. Something seemed oddly familiar about the titles, but she couldn't tell what. And when she looked up, she saw that EX was gone. But perhaps this film festival held the answers she was looking for.

You see a message, written in a shaky version of the familiar messy handwriting of a friend. Just two words, but at least that means she's alive. Time Skip.

The last film ended, and Cleo went along with the applause, mind whirling. How? How had this happened? Somehow, the events of all of the past loops had shown up in this film festival. Everyone else was paying attention when Cub introduced the producers, all of them villagers. Cleo's mind was whirling far too much for this.

After the Q&A with the producers, everyone milled around, chatting. One of the villagers ran past Cleo, bumping into her and leaving a book on the ground. The journal. Cleo picked it up, and flicked through, ready to finish recording the past few loops. But to her surprise they were already written, by an increasingly confused Evil X.

Cleo flipped through to the last page. After the summary of the day's events, Cleo noticed some scribblings in the margins.

The journal won't let me go. I don't remember writing any of this but it's undoubtedly my handwriting. What hell is the Author putting us through? And surely someone must-

It cut off, into a blot of ink. And yet it seemed like it should have continued. It was almost as if the journal itself was causing the loop. That would explain why it had shown up out of the blue in Cleo's inventory after forming that trade route with Scar on the first day. And why it had survived Evil X destroying it last loop.

She was about to go apologise to Evil X when she bumped into Scar. He took one look at the journal, and stepped back. Cleo noticed he had new scars wherever he had sustained a fatal injury in previous loops.

"What are you doing with a cursed journal like that?" He whispered, fear apparent in his voice. 

"...Cursed?"

"It's got some sort of time-loop curse on it, but it seems to have been cast by something more powerful than the Vex. Which is impossible." 

"Well can you get it off?"

"I don't think so, but I can try."

Cleo handed the book to Scar, who ran his hand over it. Vex-blue flames engulfed it, and-

White light.

Cleo woke up. She checked her inventory. No journal. Supposing that what had happened was just a dream, she got up, and began her daily routine of developing the town of Tortilla. Scar flew down, to arrange a trade route, bandages over his hands.

The two bid each other farewell, and Scar rubbed the backs of his hands. Infinity-shaped scars covered the spots the bandages concealed. He didn't know how he'd gotten them, and he was honestly afraid. But that would be a story for another day.

Another two weeks and a day.

I didn't really like this. It felt like a cop-out, but you know what? It's stupid pm, I've got 6 hours of pretty much nonstop fencing tomorrow, I'm done. I'm officially, in very capacity, done. Just...no more. Please, no more. It's too much of an undertaking. I can't take it anymore.

OdalRune, signing off from the past!