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The Prophecy Library's The Struggles of Andrew Waverland

It all started one day after I got home from school. The grass was wet from the afternoon rain, and caused that unbearable squeaking noise when I walked on it. It had been a long day. I paid absolutely no attention to the classes and lunch was awful. I think I had a test too, but in my state of mind, which I called “the numb zone” I really didn’t care. I turned the corner onto my little block, with all those little houses and little sidewalks, when a car rushed by causing a sewage-water tsunami over the curb. I was soaked in the brown sludge that also covered the majority of the sidewalk.
After wiping off as much as I could, I checked the mailbox. There was probably nothing in there, since Layla (my sister) loves to check the mail. As I blindly shoved my arm into the box. I felt a cold metal box. I pulled it out and observed it. It was perfectly square and shined when caught in the sunlight. I took it inside and hid it in my bedside drawer.
After dinner, I tried to open the box. I tried almost everything. A hammer, a crowbar. Nothing would make the box even scratch. I gave up around 9:00 and went to sleep. When morning came, it was greeted with my disgusted scoffs reminding myself that it was only Wednesday. I opened the drawer to retrieve clothes, when the box caught my sight. It had opened! The top had slid to the side, revealing an indent the size of an index card, but smaller. Inside, there was a small book, more of a booklet, actually. It was a pale blue, and the paper was waxy. On the font, in messy ink were the words The Prophet Library and a small triple infinity symbol. By triple, I mean that there were three loops.
I turned to the front page. The paper was practically translucent. I looked through the paper at the tree outside. It was only a little bit blurry. I turned to the next page to find no writing at all. The entire book was empty. I flipped through to the end. Nothing. Annoyed, I tossed aside the booklet and it fell to the floor in an elegant, fluttery dance. I got dressed, pulling on a shirt and changing my pants. As I pulled the waistband up, I stole a glance back at the booklet. Words were slowly appearing, more neat then the front page. I picked it up. I read the open page.

"It all started one day after I got home from school. The grass was wet from the afternoon rain, and caused that unbearable squeaking noise when I walked on it. It had been a long day. I paid absolutely no attention to the classes and lunch was awful. I think I had a test too, but in my state of mind, which I called “the numb zone” I really didn’t care. I turned the corner onto my little block, with all those little houses and little sidewalks, when a car rushed by causing a sewage-water tsunami over the curb. I was soaked in the brown sludge that also covered the majority of the sidewalk."


This all seemed too familiar.



Day after day, the book filled with more and more stories of what I was doing. This happened two or three minutes after I did them, but each day the time it took for the book to catch up decreased. One Thursday, while I was doing homework, I looked over at the booklet.

"I put my pencil to the paper and before starting the problem checked the book. I forgot the problem I was working on and searched the book of answers. I dove ahead and checked for tomorrow's class. {C^2+3}=? I searched the answer key, which had bled out onto page 84. After copying down the homework, I put the Prophet book away."

Something is wrong. I just did all those things. Only a few minutes ago! it. This was getting out of hand. I hid the book and did not look at it for several days.

I pulled out my drawer looking for a clean pair of underwear. I misjudged the force of my pull and the drawer came out with a loud crack. I yelled “S***!” as I tried to pick up all the scattered clothing. Under a pair of socks lay the Prophet book. It was open to page 333, where the words had finished filling in.

"Marcus grabbed my back and punched my face. I spun backwards an landed on the pavement, scraping my elbow and making a small trickle of blood drip out.
“Hit him!” yelled Jeremy from behind me. I pulled myself up and threw a punch towards him, but he darted to the side and my fist struck the tree behind him. He then delivered a punch to my chest, and I flew backwards onto the curb where I had gotten splashed by the car. I tried to lift myself up, but found no strength. Marcus walked over to me and kneeled over me and delivered a blow to my nose. I
felt hot liquid drip down my lip, then onto my shirt. Blood."

After reading this, I had no Idea what to do. When was this going to happen? What did I do to Marcus? I felt an overwhelming wave of panic, and I sat down on the bed. I didn’t go to school that day.
A month later, I had started bringing the book to school to make sure the fight was not that day. I was worried sick. I did actually get sick too. One day, Marcus asked if I was okay because I hadn’t been in school for three days. I said yes. We talked for a while before I finally said something.

“Marcus, did I ever do anything to make you hate me?” I asked.
“No,” He replied. “Why do you ask that?” he said.
“Well, you’re going to think I’m crazy.” I mumbled, staring down.
“Try me.” He said raising his left eyebrow.
“I found this book,” I put the book on the table. “It… tells me what I do before I do it. I don’t know if it’s a prank or-“
“Where did you get this?” he questioned, flipping through the pages.
“It was in my mailbox.” I said.
“Nice try,” He said tossing it back. “It’s blank.
“What?” I said. When I turned to the front page the words filled in fast.

I read him our entire conversation. His eyes widened.
“let’s go somewhere else.” He said, suspiciously eyeing the people around us.
He took me to the bathroom. Nobody was in there. It felt really awkward, and my temperature increased.
“I need that book.” He said to me.
“Why?’’ I asked back.
“It’s mine.” He said. “Give it to me.”
“No.” I said back.
“Now!” he commanded. I didn’t think. I just acted. I gave Marcus a direct punch to the stomach, then pulled his legs out from under him before running to the door. I yanked it backwards and sprinted into the hallway. Outside, it was raining.
“Jeremy!” I yelled to him. My best friend spun around and was just about to say hello when I was caught by Marcus.

Marcus grabbed my back and punched my face. I spun backwards an landed on the pavement, scraping my elbow and making a small trickle of blood drip out.
“Hit him!” yelled Jeremy from behind me. I pulled myself up and threw a punch towards him, but he darted to the side and my fist struck the tree behind him. He then delivered a punch to my chest, and I flew backwards onto the curb where I had gotten splashed by the car. I tried to lift myself up, but found no strength. Marcus walked over to me and kneeled over me and delivered a blow to my nose. I felt hot liquid drip down my lip, then onto my shirt. Blood.

I squirmed and tried to pull myself up, to no avail. Marcus then took the book from me. He smiled and opened his mouth to reveal serpent teeth. All the people around us back up and run away. I crawled backwards into the street before Marcus catches up to me. He kicks my side. I roll backwards into the street.

I must have blacked out. I can’t remember. I remember seeing Jeremy getting a baseball bat from his bag, and hitting “Marcus” in the head. I woke up, to see the thing that called it’s self a human being scamper off. The Prophecy book lay on the pavement open to the last page. Jeremy picked it up, inspecting it. He read the page and looked around. He looked at me and started to run towards me.
“ANDREW!” He yelled

And I never saw it coming.


"I turned my head to see a black car rush down the street. I opened my mouth to speak, but I had no such luck. The car, driven by Marcus, was now over my head and legs."
-The struggles of Marcus Waverland, Published 3098, Neo Newyork, North Canada.




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Christopher C. said...
today at 8:53 am:
I MEANT TO SAY ANDREW IN THE LAST LINES IM SORRY IGNORE THAT
 
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