Criminals In Time

Prologue: A seemingly ordinary man thought he would follow his father's legacy- inventing tools- to make his father proud, but his life changed once his father was killed by three unknown men. Leaving him with nothing but a medallion.

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1. Prologue

Two days ago my father was killed. Three men came looking for a medallion my father had invented as a tool to travel through space and time. They offered him a great quantity of money, but my father rejected it. My nightmares didn't begin here though. I met an unexpected person that led me where I'm standing right now, with a sharp kitchen knife and blood on my hands.

    ***

            Everywhere I look the ghost of my father is present. He's in the living room blithely planning his next incredible creation. He's also feeding his black cat in the kitchen. He's outside on the porch contentiously reading the newspapers. Suddenly, the world began to spin around me and then everything went black. 

              I could feel the ground shaking and the chandeliers smashing into tiny shards of glass. I opened my eyes reluctantly and slowly recognized a familiar figure inches away from me. As I tried to get up, there was a breath of wind. The man before me was unbelievably ME. He was holding my medallion, except it looked singularly askew, scratched, and grey. It was the same replica of the medallion I acquiesced to keep safely, in order to grant my father's last wish. I watched him in profile from the right and he appeared a bit older with a crestfallen face. The gravity of the situation intensified as soon as I noticed the sharp knife protruding from his left pocket.

               I wanted to speak and the words got tangled with my tongue. Merciless, he took advantage of it and spoke before I had the chance to inquire.

               "They must pay for their crimes. You'll kill them and then you shall save us both." He said defiantly.

                My inner side coveted his apparent courage, but then sadness enveloped my heart because that disheveled criminal was me.

                "I can choose a different path," I said confidently.

                "Yes, our death." He replied solemnly.

                 His words were not alluring me, but my life soon depended on it. I snatched the knife from him without thinking twice. Somehow during the interval, I cut the palm of my hand in the attempt. As the man smiled contentedly, he disappeared into thin air while leaving some sort of golden dust on the floor. 

                 Now, I'm standing in the center of the what's left of my living room, with a sharp kitchen knife and blood on my hands.               

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