Short Story – The Butterfly Effect

Everyone wishes they could turn back time. Undo their past mistakes, forget the shame and embarrassment. Yet, there’s one thing people never think about – the consequences of the pain that was felt. I learnt the hard way. That this universe is a bubble, one of an infinite number of scenarios. Every choice made causes another bubble to form and split off. I guess each and every one of us really are the centre of our own reality. Our choices set events in motion. Why would we want to mess with the nature of universe? Because of pain. Well that’s why I did. Do I regret it? Yes. Let me start from the beginning.

I screwed up. Multiple times in fact. I can see my life so easily in a sequence of traumatic mistakes and events. Bullying from a young age, isolation, a drug abusive father and well the list goes on. It’s not that my life was bad, it just was full of trauma which definitely had an effect on me. I was anxious, had trust issues, anger issues, some depression but I was always ok. Just ok and that was good enough for me. Then one day, despite all the strength I had in my mind and body, something finally broke me. I was abused, publicly humiliated and set up to fail. Did that destroy me? Yes. I wished I was dead, over and over again. It was a thought that consumed my mind. Then, it transformed. I no longer wished to be dead, I wished for the past to be, like it just didn’t happen. Or that I just didn’t live through it.

Words are incredibly powerful. But thoughts hold even more power. I didn’t know the effect they had. There was no build up. It just happened. Quickly and effortlessly. Like my past was based on of millions of scenarios and I could just substitute it for another. I thought of how I wish the past would die and it simply did. I didn’t know why it happened to me. I didn’t understand why the universe would choose me to give this power to. It just did. I definitely used it. First, I erased the thing that broke me and it was gone in a puff of smoke. The memories were still with me, yet it was like I watched them on a TV show. There was a disconnect. Any effect it had on me was expelled. The weird thing was that the memories that filled its place didn’t entirely seem like I was me in them. I didn’t question why at the time. Who would with this new found power? Naturally, I was cautious but I needed to see if it could happen again.

The next thing I wanted to change was something from my childhood. Could I have an effect on events that far in the past? I had no clue. But I chose something that I knew had effected me until my adult life. I thought of the bullying and wished it death. Just like that, it was gone. A distant TV show of myself that I had watched. The memories there but none of its effects. All of the mistrust of others, the insecurities, gone. I was amazed and excited. However, I was patient. I thought about what to change next for a while. I didn’t know the consequences so I had to be careful.

After a lot of thinking, I went with the loss of my best friend. The guilt I felt still weighed heavy because it was my fault the friendship ended. And just like that it was gone. In the days following, I learned the effects the changes I made were having. For one, I noticed we were best friends again. Or I should say still, because the friendship never ended. Then the subtle things started to appear. I was more confident and seemed to know more people. It seemed like it was all getting better. And yeah, I was foolish. Life doesn’t work like that.

I kept tweaking and altering everything I could think of. It didn’t all happen at once, I did it progressively. Seeing how my life panned out each time. Each memory a TV showed that I watched one evening, years ago. Everything seemed better because I had all I wanted, a life with barely any failures. It didn’t take long to see what I had actually done. I started to notice there were multiple of these show-like memories. At first, I thought it was weird, but then I realised that the further back I delete the past, the greater the change in the memories further on. It was a cascade effect. Some were subtle but some were immense. There were also some personality changes. I had become rude without realising it and the people I surrounded myself with were much like me. It had never occurred to me to think about why I stopped being friends with my best friend and people like her. I kept having vague recollections of the people I once knew. Some felt like they were from a lifetime ago. I was empty.

So, I tried again. Deleting where I think I went wrong. New memories formed, even more episodes were created. Each new memory was nothing like who I was. Then, I completely and utterly screwed up. I somehow indirectly caused the death of someone I loved. I tried, so hard to fix that. Nothing changed it. My mother who was once in my life, left it prematurely. All because the fundamental nature of who I am changed so incredibly that it put her in the path of a drunk driver one evening. She was buying a very specific gift for me. Somehow I had gained an interest in knitting and she was buying me yarn. I warped myself so far beyond recognition that I simply forgot who I was. I don’t like myself. I don’t like who I created. I stopped eventually, the past shouldn’t be tampered with. The pain? It all returned in the following years. Everyone has to face it eventually. I ended up losing my friend again and this time the roles were flipped. I was the problem. I didn’t cause it because I confronted her. It was all me this time. Well, I think that’s how it went the first time. There’s lots of outcomes in my head now.

The past is there for a reason. It teaches us to be better. Instead of choosing to learn, I wanted to change the past. Now I miss the life I think I had.

I don’t know what gave me the ability to manipulate these bubbles. I don’t even know why anyone would give me this. All I do know is that the changing the past effects everything, even if it’s in the slightest way. It’s the butterfly effect.


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Here’s a quick short story, hope you enjoy it!

When we look in the mirror, our reflection stares back. It is up to us to perceive its beauty and it’s very easy to allow the flaws to outshine everything else. Yet mirrors only show physical beauty. For me, it’s different, when I look at my reflection, it shows what’s inside of me.

I don’t know when I started to notice it. slowly, as I started to get older, I could see my reflection becoming more grotesque and sickly. First, my skin started to become increasingly pale and eventually it began flaking on my face, then arms. I just dismissed the strange pale colour I had become, thinking it was the lighting in the bathrooms. The flaking I couldn’t explain however, when I looked at my arms, my skin appeared to have no irregularities. I thought it was strange, yet I just assumed I was seeing things. That was until I could no longer ignore it.

It became disgustingly noticeable. My skin had apparently started to flake all over my body in my reflection. Still, there was nothing out of the ordinary on my actual skin. So, I did what any adolescent would do, I was scared and thought there must be something wrong with me. I hid it and went about the next two years never staring directly in the mirror out of fear of my reflection.

That was until I accidentally caught a glimpse of my reflection in the eye one day. Usually I kept my head down, usually I wouldn’t look at windows or any reflective surface. But that day, some bullies were shoving me around and that was when I saw it in a puddle. The pale skin had turned grey, the flakiness seemed to remove a layer of skin to reveal a leather like texture and the eyes… they are what haunted me the most. The eyes looked hollow. Not as in there was nothing there, they were as if there was no life in them. They were glassy and bore deep into my soul.

In that moment I screamed a bloodcurdling shriek. The bullies stopped. Looked at what I was staring at, confused. They brushed me off and walked away. That was when I realised, only I could see it. I had hidden my face behind a hoodie for two years and for what?

I didn’t know why my reflection was like that. It puzzled me for months. Then I realised, it shows me who I am inside. It puts the death of hopes and dreams, the death of my childhood oh full display. It’s a reflection of every shitty moment in my life and a reminder. It’s a curse.

It’s been ten years. I still see it, everyday. I’m not afraid of it, well I wasn’t, but then it started moving on it’s own. I don’t know why it has this power, maybe it’s the ten years of bullshit people have forced me to put up with. It’s built up now and it’s going to continue building. I don’t know what’s next, but I have an idea. My reflection wants to escape, it wants revenge. If things keep going the way they are… my reflection just might get what it wants.

So, just a warning. Don’t let everything people do eat you up inside. You never know when you won’t recognise yourself in the mirror anymore.


The Hunt

Hi everyone, this is part one of a short story I have been working on. I hope through writing more narratives, I’ll be able to develop my writing skills. Thanks for reading!

I sat there, staring into space, thinking of my next steps, thinking of how to fix this shitty situation I found myself in. I had pissed off my boss, and she then felt the need to tell others about my incompetency rather than come to me with it. The scenario repeated on a continuous cycle in my head, like someone was constantly pressing the replay button. I had no control over my mind. I blamed myself and couldn’t think of a way to fix this mess. The fear and embarrassment took over. People would surely think I’m stupid and not fit to work here.

‘It’s clear as day that I’m the issue, otherwise she wouldn’t have said anything’ I thought to myself.

Unable to deal with the emotions, I froze. There I was, sitting at my desk, in a trance caused by the endless replaying of events in my mind. I couldn’t think or work. Then, it all happened so suddenly. The world around me faded to pitch black. It was only for a millisecond, then I found myself in a completely different setting.

‘Eh?’ I said, confused.

I blinked a few times to check if my eyes were deceiving me. Then did that obligatory arm pinch to see if I had somehow fallen asleep without noticing.

I didn’t wake up.

I was definitely awake…

As ridiculous as my recount of events sound, I found myself sitting on a single bed in a small wooden cabin. It was lightly furnished with the necessities; a bed, fireplace, as well as a kitchenette and was dimly lit by windows.

Taking in my surroundings, the scenery outside the window caught my attention.

For a moment, I was almost stricken with awe. In front of me was an emerald green forest, with trees so high I had to awkwardly crane my neck up to see the top. The forest floor was covered in shrubs, with patched of red mushrooms and flowers breaking up the green. As quickly as I saw it’s beauty, fear had gripped me. This isn’t something you’d see where I’m from.

We don’t have luscious green forests.

‘Why the fuck am I here?’ I said, half expecting someone to provide answers.

I turned to scan the cabin. There was zilch. It was as basic as possible. Then the view from the window above the bed caught my eye.

My mouth dropped.

Through the window, I had a first person view of my work desk. Obviously, I wasn’t at my desk, so naturally I freaked the fuck out.

‘What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?’ I panicked.

I tried grasping the window to see if it was a picture or something pasted to the window.

‘You’re an idiot, it’s…my hands are moving’.

My mind began to race, as it should in a situation like that.

In a frantic effort to discover what was going on I turned cabin upside down, searching for some sort of answer as to why I was there. I checked the kitchen cabinets and search under the mattress. I found nothing.

Anxiety set in and I could sense a panic attack coming on.

I’d like to think I would keep a clear head in stressful situation, however; this was too fucking bizarre to keep a cool head.

I began to hyperventilate. I kept gasping for air. Not matter how much I took into my lungs, it was never enough.

Less than a minute into my panic attack, and without any warning, the cabin began to shake violently. This worked in my favour however, because my mind was distracted enough to stop panicking.

‘Is this an earthquake?’

My eyes darted to the window.

Everything was definitely moving, inside and out.

‘What about the other window with my desk?’

It wasn’t moving.

As quickly as the earthquake started, it subsided.

Now, looking back I’m amazed at how quickly I came to this conclusion whilst in that state of mind, but I put two and two together. I could see myself working though the other window and at the exact moment I have a panic attack, there was an earthquake. I had caused the shaking by panicking and wherever the fuck I was seemed to be connected to my state of mind.

I stared at my working hands, thinking.

‘Was I in my mind?’ I wondered.

‘Surely not…’

Yet, that wasn’t the thought that scared me, what was controlling my body?

I walked over to the other window and continued to watch my body was doing. It was now texting my friend.

‘Well it’s good to know I am functioning normally at least’ I thought to myself.

Then, I took a closer look at what it was typing and it was complete gibberish.

‘Oh, that’s just great’. I said anxiously.

My fear of humiliation was once again taking over. I could feel the inability to breathe returning.

‘Don’t panic, you need to find a way back.’

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