People spend their whole lives in pursuit of the extraordinary.
From kids who wish to be superheroes all the way to the elderly who wish to regress and undo all their regrets. Everyone has that one desire for something completely impossible, and it gnaws at them for their whole life.
I was no different.
I had an obsession with stories. They were like portals to whole other worlds with laws and logic that make our own world seem so incredibly boring. Stories were full of larger-than-life characters who would accomplish the impossible over and over again, characters who shouted their dreams at the world and made it listen.
I wanted to be such a character. I wanted to move hearts, to be the perfect hero who only ever shows kindness. I wanted to be anything but myself.
Perhaps that's why I always loved stories, they were an escape. While reading, I was no longer Jin, the abandoned child at the orphanage, I became the main character. Their accomplishments were my own as I went on grand adventures with my friends and saved lives while doing so. I was a hero. I mattered.
No one would forget the hero.
Stories were indeed just my escape from reality. When I watched a show or read a book, I could forget about everything. There was no more pain, no loneliness, no regret, just a feeling of weight being lifted off my shoulders, however temporary it was.
The illusion would never last long, though. The story would end, the credits would roll, and I'd be left staring at my reflection in the black screen. Just Jin again.
Reality always had a way of creeping up on me, dragging me back into my cold room at the orphanage. The world outside my window was gray, dull, and endlessly repetitive. I'd wake up, go to school, come home, eat, sleep, repeat. Day after day, the cycle continued, and I could do nothing but endlessly float through it.
Maybe it was childish, but a part of me always held out hope for something extraordinary to happen to me one day, as if the universe owed me for the shitty hand I was dealt at birth. A mysterious stranger, a magical artifact, or even a strange letter, anything that would whisk me away from my monotonous and repetitive life, something to prove I was alive for more than just survival.
Of course, I wasn't a complete idiot. At the age of 17, I knew better than to believe in such things. No one was going to suddenly swoop in and change my life. There's no such thing as magic. And what letter could possibly be sent to an orphan with no friends and hardly anyone who even knows his name?
I told myself miracles were bullshit, but when the nights got too quiet, I couldn't help but hope.
That night was no different. Rain tapped softly against the window of my bedroom, it was a nice background noise for my reading. I sat hunched over my old wooden desk, reading the final page of a book I borrowed from the orphanage's library earlier in the day. Another story had ended. Another hero had fulfilled his grand destiny, while I sat in silence, staring at the final page with a blank look, pretending like I didn't envy him.
I couldn't pretend for long, though.
"Lucky bastard," I muttered, finally closing the book.
It was time to call it for the night. I'd spent way too long finishing that book. It was now 2am, and I had to leave for school by 7. Forcing myself to get up from my comfortable chair, I slowly made my way to the bed. However, a strange chill in the air caused me to shiver.
Thud.
After taking my first step towards the bed, it felt like the temperature had dropped significantly in my room. I could also feel a light breeze blowing against my skin, which shouldn't have been possible, the door was closed and my window was shut.
Thud.
I took another step towards my bed. My foot felt much heavier than normal and created a strong shockwave as it landed on the ground. The sound felt muffled, and my ear proceeded to start ringing. Dust particles seemed to rise from the ground and float around me in the air. I couldn't help but panic. What the hell is going on?!
THUD!
My next step was even heavier than the last. The sound of my foot slamming against the ground still never reached my ears past the ringing, however, I still felt the shaking of my room from the impact. I turned to see the book fall from the edge of my desk, but instead of landing on the ground, it just stayed there, floating above the floor.
Soon enough, more items joined it, the impact of my foot slamming on the ground caused many things to fall from their places and start floating. The entire room was filled with floating objects.
"What the f—"
Before I could finish my completely wholesome sentence, a bright blue light appeared at the top of my vision. I looked up and fell over from sheer shock.
A portal.
I wasn't able to see through to the other side, it just appeared to be a blue circle with a pitch-black centre littered with white dots, almost like a starry night sky.
The gentle breeze turned into a powerful, cold wind. My hair stood on end, and my breathing quickened. It felt like my heart was about to beat out of my chest with how fast and strong each beat was. I was utterly terrified and just stared at the portal in shock.
An infinite number of questions raced through my mind, but I wasn't able to slow down and try to answer any of them. Fear clouded my judgment. I wanted nothing more than for this to be one big nightmare, however, there was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind.
A sense of excitement had stuck its roots in my brain.
This was the first time in a long time that I truly felt alive. All my senses were heightened, my heart was pounding, and my breathing was erratic. I was afraid, but I was also alive. At that moment, I wasn't just living for the sake of it, my life didn't seem so monotonous, and I wasn't just floating through the same repetitive days.
Was this finally it? Did the universe decide to pay its debt? Did I finally have a chance at something extraordinary?
Without thinking, almost by pure instinct... my hand reached out towards the unknown.