The Loop Begins

Cael rubbed his eyes, his mind racing. This couldn't be right. He didn't remember writing those words, yet there they were in his handwriting. The very same message he had written-or thought he had written just last night. But how? His thoughts were interrupted by the faint smell of breakfast wafting through the door.

Shaking off the feeling, he got dressed and went downstairs. The day unfolded with a strange familiarity. His mom's smile, the way the sunlight hit the table, even the offhanded comment his sister made about being late for school—it all felt like an odd replay.

"Deja vu," he murmured to himself, trying to laugh it off. But as the day wore on, that eerie sensation only intensified. He sat through his classes, spoke with his friends, ate lunch-every moment felt like it had happened before, down to the tiniest of details. By the time evening came, Cael was on edge.

As night fell, unease slowly draped over him. He couldn't explain it, but the night just felt. heavy. Knawing in his stomach as he lay in bed, his gaze once again fell upon the diary that sat on his nightstand.

"Tomorrow will be better," he told himself, shutting his eyes.

In the middle of the night, he suddenly woke up with a racing heart and a sharp pain that felt like fire burning in his chest. It was just like last time—the cold chill, the burning pain in his chest. He vaguely heard a man's voice calling his name, but everything before his eyes became blurred again.

The darkness swallowed him again.

Cael jolted awake. Sun was streaming through his window. His head spun as he sat up, drenched in sweat. This had happened before. He knew it had. Frantically he scanned the room, his eyes locking onto the diary.

It sat on the desk, still wrapped in silver paper.

"No," he whispered, his heart pounding. He tore into the package. The diary was cold in his hands as he opened it. The words from yesterday—"Make the right choices. Don't lose this diary."—were there, written in his hand.

His hands were shaking. "What's going on with me?

He had spent the day in a haze of near-ignore, attempting to shake the unsettling feeling something was terribly off. Conversations, events-everything happened in the same manner it did the day before. By the middle of the night, he felt like Cael was being suffocated-the world closing in around him. He couldn't sleep, knowing that the pain and cold would return.

But no matter how hard he fought to stay awake, it happened again-the pain, the dark, the abrupt end.

Cael woke up once more. Sunlight greeted him, much like it had every day previous. The diary was on his desk, still wrapped in silver.

This time, however, something inside of him snapped. He retrieved the diary, opened it, and hoped somehow that this time, something would have changed-some clue, some answer. Instead, beneath his message, there was new writing.

"You've done this before."

Cael's blood turned cold. The handwriting was his own.

His breathing went shallow as he peered into the words. The entry hadn't been there before-or had it? He couldn't recall. How many times had he lived through this day? His mind screamed for answers.

Gripping the pen, he scrawled, "What's happening to me?

He waited in silence for something, for anything, to happen. Several seconds later, words began to appear under his question, in a fashion as if written by an invisible hand:

"You've died. Many times. But you don't remember."

Cael dropped the diary, stumbling back from the desk. This couldn't be real. His heart was pounding, the words seared into his mind. He didn't fathom-what was this? Some kind of sick joke?

He ran toward the door, desperate to be away, but his feet buckled. A wave of nausea washed over him, and the sharp stabbing in his chest returned. His vision blurring, he fell, and the darkness swallowed him again.

Morning light. Cael sat up in bed, dripping with sweat. He didn't remember what had just occurred-only that it had been horrible. The diary still lay upon his desk, wrapped in silver.

He tremblingly unwrapped it, opened the cover, and there, in his handwriting, were the words as before: "Make the right choices. Don't forget your dreams."

And beneath that, in the same handwriting: "You've done this before."

Cael stared at the page. His heart pounded. He had to find a way out of this loop. But how?