A Short Story Collection

Dragnet

Nicodemus sat at a bench. In front of him was a squat door that would transport them to a new planet. Behind it was a jungle of wires. Years of work were spent to build it. He watched the others laugh and celebrate. Then the door shuddered and the others began counting down. Snow seeped through the bottom. The door opened and they walked in. Nicodemus ran in with them; holding a backpack. He caught up with them and entered the door. They were outside of a massive snowy mountain. The stony peak glittered with the lushes of snowfall.



His backpack dragged as he caught up with them. There was a large hoverbike underneath the grappling trees. He struggled to get on it. The slippery seats slicked his grip. His hands struggled the grab the vehicle. Then the motor whirred and the hoverbike flew away.



But his body tumbled off the seat and his head hit the ground. The snow exploded as he keeled. He looked at the fading hoverbike and shook the snow out off his coat. They had gone off without him. Nicodemus shivered and turned to walk toward the door. But when he looked behind him... It was gone. There was no door, only a patch of yellow grass.



The door was gone. His stomach dropped. Nicodemus sat there and quivered. How was he going to go back now? He shivered again and looked around with hope. His eyes guided him toward the forest. He squinted. In the trees was a stone road. He ran toward the dark path. He jumped off the ledge and onto the road. It was a crossroad with two paths. There were no signs, yet the paths seemed to provide their own way. On one side the stones were worn and chipped. The other side looked more alive and promising. He chose the second and walked in. The tree's blocked the sky and darkened the path. But there was enough light for him to see a town. The path split and stopped at the village. The town looked old, and all the buildings were chalked with moss.


It looked primitive. He continued trudging. The snow was gone, and it was warmer than before. His stomach growled and he looked up. A small store with a hanging sign stood there. He went inside and a small bell chimed. A clerk with his back turned was stacking some metal tins of beans. He tapped the clerk on the back.


"Is it alright if I-"


The clerk turned around and Nicodemus stumbled back. The clerk's face seemed so similar, but...

The clerk looked quizzically at him. Nicodemus squinted and scanned the face. He thought about it and had a realization. That was his face. It had every detail and each wrinkle of time.


"Who are you?"


This is what I would've been like if I'd hadn't gone off to the city, Nicodemus thought.


"Where am I?", he wondered aloud.


"Northpond, now...how-"


Shocked, Nicodemus tripped backward and backed out of the store.


"I'm sorry, but I have to go", His head turned. Nicodemus sprinted past the store. After half an hour of running, he stopped. He sat on the street to rest. His mind was shaken. That clerk had looked like him in every feature and every detail...

Northpond was the town he'd been born in. That clerk was him, but if he'd decided to stay in the country. It was an odder way of living. Yet, the man lived a simpler life. It was the life he had craved. It was strange that he looked similar, he reasoned, but this knowledge wasn't going to kill him. Maybe, he could stay. The town was nice and there was nothing bad here. Besides, he was hungry. He contemplated his decision. After a few minutes, he stood up and walked toward the store.

Two years passed.


Nicodemus had lived a quiet life in the village for a long time. He'd subsisted near a pond, where he fished every day and sold food at the market. He'd experienced a peaceful life for some time. Now, he was walking through the streets to watch the stars. The sun was dipping into the glimmering lake and diving below the dark sky. He headed toward the woods and into a path that would lead to a hill. The cicadas thrummed in the thrush and through the forest.


He whistled a tune and stopped. It was quiet, and the crickets had stopped chirping. He glanced ahead and saw three paths and a long bridge. A crossroad. The bridge looked out of place out of the multiple paths. It was bright and polished. The bridge guaranteed new things.

He spotted a hoverbike near it as walked toward the bridge. walked along the bridge. The air seemed fresher on the sturdy platform. Nicodemus blinked and paused.

A dark shadow blocked the bridge. Something small and shriveled. Nicodemus halted the bike and went over to investigate. The thing was groaning. He could hear as it tried to scrabble its way across the bridge. The thing turned around and Nicodemus grimaced. There was no mistaking the face but it resembled something scarred and tired. The figure was old and wrinkled with age. They reached the end of the bridge and into another crossroad. There were two paths. One painted with snow and the other filled with bricks of gold. His eyes were filled with the golden light and his feet dragged him toward the promise.

Nicodemus heard a thud and shook his head from the state. The figure was on the ground. One hand was reaching forward. What had he been trying to do? The ragged clothes on the thing floated and waved with the wind. Nicodemus looked up and saw the crossroads. One of the paths shone like the sun and another bristled with a poking murkiness.

He stared ahead, unsure of what to do.