Korin's Chronicles

Korin bites the tip of one skinny slice, the bursts of flavor packing his taste buds. Korin finishes the slice and packs his food away, deciding he can eat slightly rotten apples over the next few days while the cans and his monetary savings can last him about two months with his frugal choices. He is ready to live and die.

Korin moves away from the house and walks to a park at the edge of the street where he rests on a bench. Darkness. He recalls how his sister had begged him to walk back to back with her, their arms interlaced, whenever she entered their parents' dark room in their previous home. Once she turned on the lights, she would tell him to leave. She would close the bathroom door before he could return to the bright hallway. He slowly became accustomed to the dark, shut out from light, but now he is outdoors, unable to return to a warm, lit hallway.

He looks up at the starless skies as he lies down on the stone bench. He stares at his childhood jungle gym with fondness. He had climbed it the few times he visited, reaching the top and seeing the world below. Conversely, life had grown bigger in difficulty, and the jungle gym now seemed small. "I can think about tomorrow later and sleep today. Today's worries are enough for their day."

These words are ripples distorting the body of calm water in time. They thin out over time until forgotten by the mortal mind, but Korin is a mortal Observer who remembers. This Observer senses the dying ripples before the pure reflection of the water, of time, is restored to the way it was before the interruption, though with some new effects from the ripples. The Observer, having felt the interruption, further appreciates the calm waters. The interruption. A ripple—an age—of five days in one night.

Korin is sinking in darkness. He feels calm as a cold, transparent substance shrouds him, blanketing him in a curious sense of warmth and remembrance within his mind. He is breathing somehow in the liquid-like substance. Korin looks up at a sliver of light and senses he is not alone. He looks below at fishes and creatures swimming in separate communities, oblivious of life elsewhere. Korin notices that he can see better, looks up, and barely sees two sources of light arriving together before he raises his hand to cover his eyes. He turns around towards the creatures that seem to continue with their existences, but Korin realizes that they are still.

“Excuse me.”

Korin slowly opens his eyes and flinches when he sees a moving figure, whose face is shadowed beneath a street light, which he assumes had turned on during his sleep. He sits up, head aching as he blinks rapidly away from the light before observing the details of the stranger’s countenance. His heart leaps several beats; shivers rain down his back as he gazes aghast. A young woman curiously watches him with kind, brown eyes. He knows her name. “Hello,” she elegantly says without effort but with concern, “are you all right?”

Korin reaches for his bags, while his eyes trace her presence in case she disappears, but he feels cold wood instead. He continues to lie back down to avoid appearing lost for reaching towards nothing, though he sees in her kind eyes how silly his fear is. Korin feels his cheek touch the bench, which fully awakens him to notice it is not the same stone bench he slept on. He realizes his gaping mouth is awestruck and consciously forces it shut.

“Fine, yes. Fine I am. I-I am fine.”

“May I know why you are here so late in the evening?”

“Late,” he mutters. “Well...walking, and then sat...my legs...I slept.”

“Would you like me to call a taxi for you?” she asks politely.

“That’s quite all right,” Korin says. “My…walking. Feet.” Korin stares down, moving his legs to prove his ability to walk, but his vision blurs even with his spectacles, and he loses consciousness from a headache. The woman reaches out with her right hand, stopping Korin’s head from falling. He quickly regains focus from the smoothness of her warm hand on his cheek. He sits back up in nervous delight and shakes his head awake. He looks at her eyes, which gaze at him in astonishment.

“If you give me a moment, I can look for someone to take you home.”

“No, please. I truly am fine.” Korin says urgently. He pauses, recollecting his calm manner as he slowly asks, “May I know why you are here so late in the evening?”

“I was enjoying a walk through the garden. It’s rather pleasant to visit nature in its purity yet still be near a comfortable home. Do you think that makes sense?”

“Absolutely, but this isn’t a garden. It’s my childhood park. Do you always help people sleeping on benches?”

She laughs and replies, “No, you’re an exception. I don’t recall seeing a young man sleeping this late at night on a bench, but I suppose one can marvel at a place like this and peacefully fall asleep amidst such wonders.”

Korin smiles at her and realizes there is something peculiar about the lamp, which was off when he fell asleep. He does not recall how the lamp looked, but he is almost certain that it did not have a case around it. He sees more trees than usual, and there is no playground where he had occasionally played during his childhood. The street where his old home was is gone. His eyes wander as his interlocutress steps forward.

“Are you sure you are all right?”

“Not quite anymore. Where am I?”

“Why, you’re in Rome!”