Possibilities (Choices Pt. 3)

Author's Note: Hey y'all! Now, I know I haven't posted here in a VERY looooooooong time, and I was actually considering deleting my account until I checked my email and it said I had a comment. I got over here and it was Ugochi N. telling me that it's been a while. I'm writing this more or less just because she wanted me to. So, shout out to Ugochi R, you're the best! Her stories are amazing, you've got to check her out! https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/111723/

Thank you all for everything, and for 350+ followers. It means a lot! :)

The Google Form is now updated with the new parts of the story, so go check that out! Here is the link: https://forms.gle/52M2TLLAG1BsFFq17

Here are the paths from Part 2:

K. ----------------- If you grab the knife and continue in your venture to stab him, go to paragraph Q.

If you wait and ask him some questions, go to paragraph R.

L. ----------------- If you let go of the nail, go to paragraph S.

If you reach forward and take your neighbor's hand, go to paragraph T.

M. ---------------- Go to paragraph U.

N. ---------------- Go to paragraph 1F.

O. ---------------- If you follow him, go to paragraph W.

If you stop and ask some questions, go to paragraph R.

P. ----------------- Go to paragraph V.

Q. Will it matter what he means if you're chopped into pieces? You grab a knife and plunge it into his abdomen, blood soaking his shirt. 

He simply looks at it, then at you. “You-your father wanted-” blood flies from his mouth as he talks. 

"My dad? " you say, pulling yourself onto your knees to meet with his eyes. "What about him?"

Your father was a pilot and flew for American Airlines before he died. 

It was a bird strike, they had told you when you arrived at the hospital. It's when birds fly- you had cut the lady off, told her you knew what a bird strike was. Well, they lost both engines and we're too far to try and go back. 

The plane and its passengers hadn't concerned you then. It didn't occur to you that they were people too. They had families that were hearing news just like that at that moment. All you wanted to know was how your dad was doing. 

The lady looked around and asked where the rest of the family was. Your mother had died from breast cancer when you were three, you replied. Your father never remarried. 

She sighed and told you that the burns were too excessive, that he had lost too much blood, that they didn't have the capacity to treat any more people, so he was kept waiting. 

You listened as she explained why you would never see the light in your father's bright blue eyes. Why the two of you would never eat vanilla ice cream with orange sprinkles in the bed of his truck. Why the only person who ever invested time into your life would never pull you close or talk to you in. 

Breathing shakily, you took a deep breath and asked to see the body. It's not a memory you enjoy reminiscing over, but it finds its way into your dreams every night. 

"What do you know about my dad? "you ask more forcefully, your voice breaking slightly.

"He's- "blood pours out of his mouth and you quickly lay him on his back and pull out the knife, pressing on the wound. He grunts and nudges your hands away, putting his own in their places. “I'll be fine.”

Still, you rush to your bathroom and bring out a fresh towel to wrap around him. 

"Your father." his voice is raspy and quiet, but the blood has stopped flowing from the wound.

”Your father is still alive." 

To be continued...

R. "What do you mean?" 

He raises his eyebrows and chuckles. "Let's start from the beginning. My name is Jack." 

"Okay," you reply, crossing your arms. "What else? What do you want from me?" 

"Your father." 

Your eyes still light up whenever you hear someone talk about your dad, even though he died years ago. "Yes?" 

"He wanted me to find you and give you some things. An early inheritance, say." 

You smile sadly and wipe at a silent tear. "You mean late." 

Jack furrows his brow and shakes his head. "No, I mean what I said. Early." 

It's your turn to furrow your eyebrows. "My father is–" 

"You don't know the first thing–" 

"I don't even know you, who are you to tell me –”

"You're not listening to – "

"I saw his body and –"

"Your father is not dead."

He finally finishes the sentence and your mouth hangs open in shock.

"What?" you lose the words to speak. "But I – I saw his body. I touched his body." 

Jack presses lips together as if debating whether or not to explain. 

"Tell me everything,” you say quietly, not able to wrap your head around the concept of your father still being alive.

Jack only smiles at you. He seems to be looking past you, not at you, and you're about to ask what he's looking at before someone speaks behind you. 

"I will. Everything." 

Spinning around, you strain your eyes to see and your jaw drops. “Dad? " he laughs in that way that warms your heart, and you melt. But while nothing can replace him or this moment, a part of you reserves the right to be angry. He left you empty and hurting when you needed him most, when he was all you had. It truly is a bittersweet moment, and you don't know how to approach him.

To be continued...

S. If you take his hand, you don't know what will happen to you. Of course, you don't know exactly what will happen if you let go, but you're willing to take that chance. Closing your eyes, you unwrap your fingers from the nail and let yourself fall. The wind blows your hair up into your eyes, and in your struggle to clear your sight you forget that in order to land correctly from a free-fall, you need to pay attention. 

Your back hits the concrete below you hard and you hear a crack. Before you know it, you're lying in a pool of blood and your breathing is extremely shallow. Through your blurred vision, you can see your neighbor peering over the rim of the hole at you. It looks like he's almost about to climb over the edge and drop in to help you, but someone else in the pit walks over and scoops you up. 

"It's alright," he says, taking your left wrist in his hands. "Everything will be fine." 

From above, your neighbor watches, mortified. Bring his own risk to his lips, he speaks. "She's fallen into the wrong hands."

To be continued...

T. It's only a matter of minutes before the nail will free itself from the wood and you go falling to what may be imminent death. That's not really a chance you’re willing to take. Cautiously, you reach out and he takes your hand, adjusting his weight on the planks to hold both of you. You close your eyes and let go of the nail, feeling your body swing. Thankfully, he holds on to you, and little by little he pulls you out, dropping you next to him on the wood. "You – okay?" he asks, panting and out of breath. 

"Yes," you reply as you massage your throbbing hand. "Thank you." 

He nods slightly and stands, extending his hand to help you up. 

You stare at it for a few seconds and take it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. As you dust yourself off, he begins to speak. 

"I know you don't trust me–" 

"That's because I don't know you," you say, cutting him off. "And you were going to kill me.” 

He chuckles and shakes his head. "I never intended to kill you. Far from it. What I did intend to do–" he slips two fingers into the sleeve of his left arm and presses on his wrist, "– is introduce you to someone." 

From the stretch of hallway behind you steps a man whose face is all too familiar. 

"Dad?" 

To be continued...

U. "You’re – my uncle?" Draco nods and motions towards the table. "You should sit. We might be here a while." 

You walk around the table and take a seat next to John, looking up at Draco as he continues. “The Choosing is an event that takes place every 6 years, or when the current Chooser hands over to the next one. Whichever comes first. The honor has run in your lineage for generations, and 6 years ago your father took up the role. Just recently, he decided to hand over to you, and so we set out to find you. When John moved in next to you, it was the perfect opportunity." 

You frown. "My dad died years ago. Why are you only telling me about this now? " The pieces don't fit. What's really going on here? 

Draco looks at the ground and sighs. "You really don't know much, do you? " 

He bunches his lips to one side and folds his arms. "Your father is still alive. "

To be continued...

V. Your eyes flutter open and you find yourself in a small bed staring at a pale green wall with white polka dots. Quickly, you sit up and look around the room. You've never seen this place before, but something about the polka dots makes you feel like a kid again. 

A smile tugs at your lips, but a slight throb in the back of your head reminds you of what happened earlier in the morning, and you remember. Madeline. 

Throwing the covers off your legs, you jump out of the bed and rush to the door. You twist the doorknob forcefully, expecting it to be locked, but the door opens easily and you stumble forward. 

Eyebrows furrowed, you venture slowly out into the hallway in front of the door. All kinds of sounds come from both ends of the hall: to your left are the sounds of silverware clinking, and to your right are the sounds of a sparring match. You're about to start down one of the halls when you notice that behind you in the room, there's an open window. 

You're not sure where the window leads or how high up you are, but if you pick either side of the hallway you're bound to meet people, and you don't even know where you are yet, talk less of who's around. You might even see Madeline. Then again, if you pick one of the halls, you may find someone willing to help you.

To be continued...

1F. Your eyes flutter open and you find yourself in a small bed staring at a pale green wall with white polka dots. Quickly, you sit up and look around the room. You've never seen this place before, but something about the polka dots makes you feel like a kid again. 

A smile tugs at your lips, but a slight throb in your back reminds you of the fall that you took earlier. That man...

Throwing the covers off your legs, you jump out of the bed and stumble to the door. You twist the doorknob carefully, and the door opens easily, allowing you to step outside.

Eyebrows furrowed, you venture slowly out into the hallway in front of the door. 

All kinds of sounds come from both ends of the hall: to your left are the sounds of silverware clinking, and to your right are the sounds of a sparring match. Though you want to find the man that saved you, you have no idea where you are. Go down the wrong hallway or make a wrong turn and you could be very lost. Then again, you may find someone willing to help you out and show you around.

To be continued...

W. For some reason you can't explain, you trust him and shuffle along behind him. He leads you to his room, pushing the door open and holding it for you as you walk in.

"What did you want to show me?"

He pulls out his phone and taps a few things, and the lights in the room come on. "This."

Before you lie 2 doors, one a fiery bright orange and the other a dark bronze. "This is your choice."

Confused, you shake your head, "What's behind them?"

"Behind one is a piece of your past, and the other a piece of your future."

"What do you mean?" you ask.

He smiles sadly and stares at the ground. "I'm afraid I can't tell you."

You whimper quietly. "Which one is right?"

"That, my dear," he steps forward and opens both of them, a dull glow emitting from the cracks, "is a decision only you can make."

Taking a deep breath, you step forward.

To be continued...