For the A to Z Challenge I generated a list of random words, and I will be writing a short story incorporating those words. Each day a little more of the story will be unveiled. You can read the full story, to date, here. Here we go:
A week passed.

Mark went about his life, attending classes, hanging with Pete, playing video games; but when Pete suggested they head to Golden Dragon for a bite, Mark turned him down. The restaurant had taken on a vaguely uncomfortable association for him. As the days went on, he began to doubt the visit from his older self. First, he wondered if it had been an elaborate joke, which had been his first inclination, but then he began to wonder if perhaps the visit from Old Mark had been a dream, or worse yet, a hallucination.

Could he have made up the whole thing? Thinking back on it, the entire scene had taken less than an hour, and with the hindsight that a few days brings, he saw how utterly ridiculous the premise was. A Time traveler – not just any time traveler, but himself – told him to say hello to a strange man. What was the point of that? And more importantly, how did he get into time travel? What Mark knew about time travel could fit into a thimble, and consisted of ideas gleaned from movies.

And as for Ashton Miller, Mark didn’t see him again. If he was a student at the U, he ran in completely different circles than Mark. 

So, it couldn’t have been real. That’s what Mark began to tell himself. It was a dream, he’d even go with hallucination, if it meant not thinking about what it all really meant.

He was heading towards his dorm on evening, as the sun set sending the long cool shadows of the buildings to blanket the world, thinking of nothing more than the coming summer break and whether he could swing living off campus for his final year, when out of the shadows a  wild-haired wraith appeared. Mark jumped back and stifled an unmanly squeal before realizing who it was.

“What did you do?!” Old Mark cried. In the fading light it was difficult to discern what he was wearing, but Mark had the idea that he was dressed in loose pajamas.

“Oh my God,” Mark groaned as he bent over and clutched his chest. He was sure he was having a heart attack at that moment.

“Jesus Christ, Mark,” Old Mark cried. He grabbed Mark by the shoulders and forced him to stand up straight. “What did you do?”

“What? Nothing! I don’t even know what you’re talking about?”

“Ashton Miller. He’s dead!”


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