Pilot

Blood. Pain. Fear. Death. I woke up about 7am the following day with no idea what I had just experienced, but I know exactly what the cause is.

Aliens.

About 11pm past night, an alien had climbed through my kitchen window, walked up the stairs and stood at my doorway for about twenty minutes before taking the shape of a man and running full force at me, stabbing me in the chest. I look down at my bedsheets - there's no blood. I hear my mum call me from downstairs. The window was smashed from the outside, but upon current investigation - and by investigation, I mean looking clearly at it - I could see that the window was no longer smashed. Everything was as it was. Not how it was last night, but how it was this morning. Yesterday morning. The morning before that. It was this point onwards that I had stopped going to school in order to pursue aliens that were trying to kill me, and succeeding every night.

It was on June 7th, Year 2000, I had awoken from what I had assumed to be a nightmare. Every night for the past five-hundred-and-sixty-six days, I have been living the same day over and over again, with absolutely no difference in events. If I cross a day off my calendar, I wake up the following day with that day uncrossed. In about fifteen minutes, my mum will call me from downstairs to say that breakfast is ready. The time is 7:05am and I wake up with the same stabbing pain my chest every morning.

The only problem I had faced when chasing a foe of this magnitude is that I am unsure how to escalate this with any potential allies. How do I go about recruiting for my cause when I am fully aware that I will look insane the whole time? Did that sound cool? Are you reading this right now? I've tried to speak to someone about this, but I call this route the dark timeline. Explaining my situation to anyone with power had gotten me a first-class ticket to a laboratory where - you guessed it - I had been experimented on to uncover the source of this curse. This was difficult for myself to explain, but so easy for these people to misunderstand. I had died on that operating table, not by the doctors. It was an alien, standing at the doorway for about twenty minutes. Its presence has become less of a mystery and more of an ominous gloom that I can sense when the time comes. I had woken up at 7:05 the following day in my own bed, with my mum calling me from downstairs.

I thank my mother for breakfast, put my shoes on, say goodbye, I leave the house, all in less than two pages.

A woman approaches me in the street and tries to hand me a leaflet and I immediately test my sanity. I cleared my throat and asked her how she feels about aliens. She pushed the leaflet at me and promptly continued walking. Of course. What did I truly expect? I'm talking about aliens. I'm certain that won't be a popular topic for the next few timelines. The sun should at least be doing something to me. What if I'm a vampire that needs to be eradicated, but my existence is so necessary, that the God's of time won't allow it? Basking in the sunlight, I take a deep breath.

Not a vampire.

What the hell is it then?

I guess I'll never know.

I took a seat at a nearby park, full of sweet oxygen. The same oxygen I've been breathing for the past five-hundred-and-sixty-nine days. Or was it seventy? It wasn't until about an hour of drawing blanks in my mind that a girl with an ice cream sat directly next to me and said the most peculiar thing.

"How would you react if I told you I am God?"

I flinched. How does anyone respond to something like this? How would you react if I told you I'm being murdered by aliens nightly?

"I heard that."

Fear. A shiver unlike any other comes across your body, hearing the very words echo throughout your mind. Maybe I've been asleep for too long, or I've been awake too long. I've died so many times and heard so many voices, am I recollecting random voices from random timelines? Have I seen this girl before? It's so hard to remember. All five-hundred-and-forty-seven times, I don't know if I've ever seen this girl before. I turn to this 10-year old girl who is literally just licking this bizarrely bland-looking ice cream.

"I can't help myself. Do you know about the aliens?"

She stopped licking the ice cream and looked directly into my eyes. "More than you do."

"What do you know about aliens?" I'm basically talking to a child. What am I going to expect? What am I supposed to expect?

"What do you know about True Night?" She spoke as if I was the child. With a very distinct sarcasm in her voice that implied I know nothing. Obviously I've heard nothing. In all the times I've lived, I've never heard that term. It sounds like a - "childish fantasy term for something darker than nighttime? Is that what you were going to say? Listen, I'm going to cut the crap and tell you right now that I don't buy your victim shtick. Now suck it up and answer my question."

I am out of my area of expertise here. "Which question? The first? Or the second?" If it's the first, I've been ignoring that one, because I don't now how I'd react. I suppose my lack of a major reaction was the answer, up until my hallucinations started.

"That should go without saying. Or should I say thinking? Because you're not hallucinating, and your reaction wasn't a good enough answer for me. The second question has already been answered, in that you know nothing. I, on the other hand, know everything, and so I will let you in on the secret that is True Night, all in less than two pages." She spoke with such a confidence that I honestly forgot how old this child looks. She looks me dead in the eyes when she speaks, as if she's speaking "directly into your soul. And you would be correct in thinking so. The only reason I can finish your internal monologue, is not because we're secretly soul mates, but is because I am God, herself. In all her glory. So don't get confused. Now, if you're finished monologuing, I'd like to inform you of your mission in this world, by telling you a story. I am speaking directly into your soul right now. To you, and your ancestors. I am the voice of reason, the voice of understanding, the voice of wisdom."

-

"It was five-hundred years ago, that the great hero who shared your name, had gone out to sea to do battle with vampires. Upon reaching the vampire lair, he had slaughtered countless of their men, women and children, in blind rage of the destruction and bloodshed that created and fed the vampiric race, he left not a single of their kind in his wake. With a weapon that would historically be known as the Sunrise Blade, he took their lives and their numbers down bit by bit. As he reached the altar that held the Head the vampires, he was taunted by the very being themselves. As he raced forward, he fell into a trap drawn out by the very wizards of the vampire race, cursing him for all of eternity. However, what the vampires ceased to realise was that this hero had been blessed by a deity similar to myself, with the power to live forever. The only drawback to this blessing was that the hero must accomplish a tremendous accomplishment of dramatically life-changing achievement, or something like that. You have to kill something of great importance, or you must change the lives of many. Surprisingly enough, this worked in the heroes favour, and he killed the vampire lord with little to no effort whatsoever, alongside the vampire wizards and more-or-less the entire lair was eradicated by the hero.

After the events of the Sunrise Blade, the hero came back to his family, and spent the rest of that day in complete bliss and sanctity, knowing that they were safe from the vampiric menace.

Until he had gone to bed that night.

That night, at precisely 11, he was greeted by a mysterious being at the door, with tendrils as black as the night, stabbing him, mutilating him in every shape of the word. As he lay lifeless, his loving wife had not only been completely unaffected, but had been watching the entire time, with large eyes as black as the night, and a smile that stretched from the farthest pinnacles of her cheeks. That night, he thought only one thing:

"Why?"

The following morning, he woke up at precisely 7:02 in the same bed, trying to pretend like it never happened. This happened over, and over, and over, and over again. I'd like to add more overs, but I'd like to cut this as short as possible. The truth about his condition was that he spent his whole life pretending to be something he wasn't. You see, he never fought vampires in the first place. There was no vampires, there was no legendary Sunrise Blade, he made that all up to waste time. Made up the entire story to cover up an affair with another woman. Multiple women, and his wife had found out, very close to the start of the affair. Every affair. What a clumsy, buffoon of a man. His wife, unbeknownst to her husband, was a witch, and cursed him with a spell that would count the hundredth time he committed an atrocity on her, he would spend the rest of his days in misery and distrust, and you'll never guessed what happened.

Upon the hundredth time he returned from his mistresses house, he greeted his daughter with a kiss, and his wife had gone straight to bed with her head down. That night, in her eyes, as he lay his head on his pillow, he simply woke up the next morning a completely different person. He was loyal, honest, kindhearted, to them. However, to him, it was an endless nightmare that went on for all eternity. They call this curse, Shonoyoru, or True Night."

-

So is this entire nightmare a test? A godly test? Or a curse?

"You would be wise to know that it is the latter. A curse is what it is, it's what I've been saying this entire time." Her voice was so monotone, I forgot it was there, but it spoke directly "into my soul? Yes, I told you that, also. And you would be correct in thinking it's a Godly test, but it is not I who is giving the test. Much rather, a sister of mine has bestowed upon you, five-hundred years later, to accomplish a personally incredible feat. To see if you are worthy of accepting the world as it is."

But you can't just say that. On June 7th, year 2000, that night, however many nights ago that it began, an alien crept through my house and killed me. It's a different way every night, but every morning after the murder, I wake up the same day with every memory of the previous days. Has it been ten? No. Twenty times? I've lost count the amount of blood I see and it still doesn't feel less painful. However, going to bed with the knowledge that I'll still wake up, that's taken away the fear of being killed. Sometimes I go to sleep before the murder, and I wake up without even knowing it. My family don't know, I don't have any friends to share the thought with, but you. How the hell is this correlating to a Godly test? You're listening, right?

"That's right." This is completely insane. I don't even know why I'm thinking anymore, I've already reached the pinnacle of insanity. Alright, when this is done, I'm going home and I'm thanking my mum. I don't care how mad she thinks I am, It's the first thing I have to do. I'm going crazy. You think I'm crazy "right? That's debatable, but yes, as far as you know, that is correct. I do think you are crazy."

"But I'm being tested? What for? Is there some amazing destiny that I'm unaware of? Some mysteriously undecipherable tablet that only I can read? What can I accomplish in thirteen hours? Am I allowed to know?"

She pondered for what honestly seemed to be an eternity, but only lasted seconds before she outwardly said "No." Which stung, but in all fairness, if I were to "find out, it would take away the meaning of testing you. We must test you subconsciously to find out the true nature of your mind."

This has to be some kind of joke.

"I don't see anyone laughing." I don't think I've even seen you smile since I've been talking to you. Granted, it's not been the friendliest or bubbliest conversation, but regardless, you'd think a 10-year old girl would slip-up once in a while. "Anyway, this has been an enjoyable conversation, for one of us."

Which one of us was it enjoyable for?!

"I assume you got some insightful information from myself today. I will be in contact. And don't worry about tomorrow. I will be in contact."

"You know I will die tonight?"

"I know."

With that, she left. Leaving not a single drop of ice cream on the bench. Not implying that she licked it off, or anything of the sort. In fact, what I really couldn't stop noticing was how little the ice cream melted. In additional fact, the ice cream didn't melt at all?! Maybe I am hallucinating. In all my five-hundred-and-twenty-four times, I've never met this girl once. Slapping my face with both hands, slapping my cheeks in my grasp, I remind myself of my consciousness. Making my way home, I'm greeted by the setting sun, and rows upon rows of houses all turning their lights on and closing their curtains one-by-one until I finally reach that place I call home.

That night, I greet the night like an old friend. I am cautious, as I know I cannot trust it. However, I invite it in, regardless of my knowledge in how dangerous that is.

7:02am, June 7th, 2000: I wake up.