The Dreamer

  The window creaks open, artificial sunlight peeking through and waking me up from my slumber. I groan, still remembering the stab wound from my last time loop. “Back to it again,” I sigh, flicking the bedsheets off with my wings. Humanity is a plague, as much as they pretend to say otherwise. I feel through my wings, the glossy feathers feeling soft in my hands, no longer stained with the blood of the human who severed them off. He claimed that he was an ally, only to attack my people once I asked for simple amenities like more food and water. How greed warps the hearts of the ‘virtuous.’ If he was the angel, then that just made me the devil who staked his heart.

  I get up, only to get tugged back down onto the bed. I turn, seeing my braided tail stuck in the bedposts. Of course it happened again. I sigh, untangling the thing to let all of its hair go loose. With that, I take the left horn from my head and snap it off cleanly, stabbing it through the center of the tail. My hands shift from large frog tips to smaller and more delicate claws, able to weave my tail back into its regular shape. With that, I take the horn out and return it to its resting spot, reattaching itself with a squelch. I add the finishing touches to my look, cleaning the large gills at my head’s side and polishing the twisted horns adorning my head.

  “Which outfit to wear,” I bemuse, opening my closet, various clothes of colorful fabrics, from a rich crimson to a sea-colored blue. “I think it will be you,” grabbing the ‘Oracle robes.’ I don my green dress, draped in various wrapped cloths, leaves, and sashes, the colors ranging from chartreuse to juniper, lime to seaweed, and seafoam to pine: A beautiful mess of green designed to complement the blue of my skin and scales. The shine of my wristbands catches my eye -- “And I can’t forget these,” I monologue, putting the dark green shells along my wrists.

  And with that, I open the castle’s door, grabbing the knob, and... scratching it...

  Right, my hands are still claws.

  I shapeshift them back into frog hands, then easily twist the knob. It’s fun having suction grip whenever you want.

  “You’re finally up,” Princess Ryebose complains, standing outside the door. Her mandibles click together, her red bug-like eyes dim with tiredness. “I was just about to drag you in for the conference. The council wants to hear from you again, about the possible future.”

  “I’ll tell them when it gets better,” I retort, then sighing. I understand why they’re monitoring me closely -- as far as we know, I’m the only person to be able to rewind time to a certain point. Not even the human world knows this fact, considering all the possible realities I’ve been in where I’ve at least managed to visit it. “Sorry, it’s just...”

  She puts her hand on her hip, the bat wings on her exposed arm scratching against her metal apron. “Bad reality?”

  “Got stabbed through the heart,” I answer. “Took out the Fallen in my dying breath.”

  “Well, it’s gotta get better sometime!” She puts her hand around my neck, pulling me close in a short hug. “We’ll have a good guy soon!”

  Remembering the 100s of doomed realities, I give a fake smile. “Yeah, we’ll have one soon.” I push her arm off, then remember what I should do first -- “I’ll need to check the ball again. May as well see who the Fallen will be this time.”

  “Right, you do that. I’ll inform them you’ll be a bit late.” She walks off, leaving me to my own devices. I take a walk down the hallways, seeing their pristine quartz and more of the artificial light shining through the various windows within our kingdom. With how often I’ve seen the sun, this light seems better -- at the very least, it’s honest that it’s fake. I take a moment to look out the window, our little kingdom all the way down there. Our kingdom of a million monsters exists, all of whom are down there living their lives.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I grip my hand, remembering how often my people get enslaved, genocided, or forgotten by the so called ‘benevolent’ race. Maybe I’d be more lenient if whoever decided the Fallen stopped sending the worst ones of them all. I’d punch this window if I didn’t remember the pain of glass stabbing into my hand the several times I did that in a past loop... and paying the cost to repair the window.

  But there’s no point mourning what could have been -- what exists is the now. I move on from the vision, walking down the corridor to my own personal study, tucked away on the side of the palace. Its metal hinges creak as I push open the heavy iron door -- helps to fend off a rabid human from time to time.

  I’m hit by the scent of parsley as I enter, remembering that I still hadn’t cleaned up my herbal mixtures from my last experiment over the past few realities. I still don’t understand why Ryebose hated my parsley and rosemary combination -- it was a bit strong, but it smelled really good! I rub some parsley powder on my hands, the smell overtaking my body and relaxing my nerves. I hum again, a little lullaby as I clean up the mess in my small kitchen again. I asked for it in the event I needed to make some mixture, but truth be told, it was an excuse to cook meals and snacks whenever I wanted. Besides, we’ve had more frivolous expenses, like the silver buttons Ryebose wanted for her room. She ended up throwing them out a week later, though I suspect she used them to create a new weapon. Always an inventor, that one.

  Nonetheless, the mess is easily cleaned up -- even past me hated to make a mess. Good for him. With that, I re-clean the bookcase in my study, removing the dust from the book covers. Some are normal -- ‘A History of Economics’ and ‘The Three Branch System’, concerning the inner workings of economics, governments, and the recording of history. Others are work-related such as ‘How to Draw Your Own Fortune’ and ‘The Trauma of Repeating Life.’ That second one somehow always managed to say the worst things. Then there are the weird ones, like ‘My Wife Left Me, Here’s How You Prevent That!’ It started to be funny, until it started feeling like a man had too much to drink at night. I wish this was made by humans, but one of our own kind made this. I keep it as a reminder that sometimes we all deserve to burn.

  Then of course, there’s the book hung on the side -- ‘The Theory of The Free Market.’ Don’t get me wrong -- I absolutely hate that book. If I could find the author, I’d burn them at the stake. Yet it’s my favorite book because of the little footnotes, clearly made by a student who had a lot of fun. I open it to page 104, reading the author’s thoughts on how ‘the concept of supply and demand led to the result of the invisible hand, ensuring that only the products that the public desired would thrive.’ On the margins was a little note -- “Yeah, sure sucks when only one version of a product exists, doesn’t it!” I giggle at the little thing, feeling the rage of a student frustrated with how the world works. I’m so happy we don’t share the same concept of money down here -- it would be an absolute pain having to work just to survive. I wish I could meet whoever this person was, someday. For a human, they don’t seem so bad.

  Nonetheless, I came here for a purpose. I sigh, closing the book. I’ll read you again, I promise. The book is returned to its natural spot, its pages still yellow from the ages it spent decaying in the old library left behind by the rest of civilization. I admire my handiwork, my room is as clean as ever. It helps to pass the time before everyone’s life devolves into another hell.

  Now, my purpose -- the crystal ball in the center of the room, contained within a small table and half-filled with water. I place my palms against the surface, barely able to cover the full orb about as long as I am tall. I begin my demands -- “Demonstrate who comes next.” With a wave, the waters stir, reflecting an image of...

  UGH. A hero with a longsword, armed with a bow on his back and barely an adult, with white skin to boot. I roll my eyes -- how often have I seen this type of person, one who claims to be a paragon but will kill an entire species for the sake of ‘the greater good’? With my luck, he’ll attempt to cut my arm off the second we meet: at least that would be a quick introduction to the next timeline.

  A trembling then rumbles through the walls, causing me to trip and fall onto the ground. I look on, seeing the orb rattle with the water more stormy than before, the previous image of the hero fading away.

  “What is-”

  It’s then that the water glows a bright red, as I remember what it means -- I instinctively turn away, only for the glass to shatter, shards flying through the room and the furniture, many luckily stabbing themselves into the wall. One manages to graze my shell, bouncing harmlessly off and straight into a hole in the floorboards. I gasp, still trying to process what this means --

  This hasn’t happened before.

  I mean, my orb has broken, but not like this. There had to be some external trauma, but this wasn’t caused by nothing. Did the future change?

  ...

  There’s no point pondering this now. All I can do is wait for the Fallen.

  Just what will you be like?