Father's crystal.

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


A young teenager, Flynn, is faced with an attacker, hunting down his father's mysterious crystal enabling time fields, and potentially Flynn himself.

Submitted: October 04, 2017

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Submitted: October 04, 2017

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It seemed like such a simple task to Flynn Hillyer, the young 18 year old staring at his desk. His eyes moved from a large, clunky, yet somewhat elegant device, to his laptop screen. Lines of broken and fragmented code stood mockingly before him. Flynn would have to ask his friend Rob to patch the code when he arrived in the morning. Rob was good with this stuff, and it was the last step.

 

Flynn stared yet again at the device, a mechanized generator with a singular yellow crystal powering it from the top. Flynn gazed at the crystal, which was emitting a small glow.

 

He remembered his father passing it down to him as a gift when Flynn was 7, before hurriedly rushing out of the door with his luggage. No one had given Flynn a clear answer on why his father had ran, but recent experiments with the crystal may have shed some light. The crystal was able to emit small fields to manipulate space and time.

 

After nearly two years, Flynn had completed the bulky machine on the desk, and was attempting to program it for his first “10 second” test. However, Flynn was horrific when it came to computers. The experiment would have to wait until the morning.

Flynn felt his eyelids get heavy as he opened a new tab, hoping to briefly visit facebook before turning in for the night...well, morning.

 

Flynn locked eyes on the first name on his feed, Cecily Davis. Flynn had been in love with her after they had a series of conversations freshman year. However, Flynn was quick to succumb to nerves, and never even attempted to make anything resembling a move. To Flynn she was far too stunning, and he felt he didn’t have much to offer in return. Obviously she wouldn’t go for him, right? “Either way,” thought Flynn, “All of this will be…” Flynn felt himself nodding off strongly this time.

“....changed…”

Flynn rested his head on the desk, and almost instantly fell asleep.

 

He awoke an hour later to a nearly black room. Hadn’t he left the light on? Either way, Flynn stumbled over to his bed, unconcerned with the thought. All he wanted to do was get back to sleep. Flynn plopped down on his bed and began pulling the covers over his face. Before the blanket could reach his eyes, Flynn saw a glint of light in the hallway.

Okay, now Flynn was paying attention. He hadn’t left his door open.

The beam of a flashlight swept down the hallway again, and stabilized near Flynn’s open bedroom door.

Flynn quickly wrapped the covers over his head and turned away from the door, hyperventilating under the covers. He bit down to muffle the sound.

 

Someone was coming into his his room. His aunt who watched over him, and the house, was out on a trip. There’s no way it was her. The door began creaking slowly, and Flynn heard a faint “click” behind him as the door closed. It was clear the invader did not want to be heard by anyone, even Flynn. Flynn could barely hear the footsteps approaching, but could feel the man moving towards his bed. He could tell he was coming.

 

Flynn shut his eyes, holding back tears as he felt the blanket being pulled off of him.

“Please.” Flynn sobbed lightly as he looked at the attacker. He was wearing a black zip-up hoodie, covering the majority of his face in the shape of the hood, as his gloved hands grasped Flynn’s neck. Flynn began weeping as he struggled for air. As Flynn could see the black void of unconsciousness, followed by death filling his vision. He noticed a familiarity in the shape of his soon to be killer. Flynn gazed in a blend of revelation and curiosity as his mind fell into blackness.

 

A minute later, the figure rose from the body of young Flynn Hillyer, and walked over to Flynn’s desk. As he looked at Flynn’s device, he unraveled a trashbag from his back pocket. The man grabbed the crystal from the top of the generator, pocketed it, and went back toward Flynn’s body.

 

The man’s eyes briefly caught the dim power light from Flynn’s laptop, blinking to indicate it was in “sleep mode.”

 

The man stepped over to the laptop, and struck a key.

 

The glow of the laptop screen shone on the face of a 22 year old Flynn Hillyer, who closed the laptop screen in a state of agony as he read the name “Cecily Davis.”

 


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