LOGINShare
Chapter 1: Where Is My Body?
Last Updated:
2021-08-15 19:41:06I wake up in a body that is not my own. As I open my eyes and I look around the room, frantically shifting eyes back and forth that do not belong to me. I am frozen. Harper thinks to herself: “Where am I? “Whose body is this? Shit! Am I dreaming? If so, this is a freaking nightmare. I think I must be paralyzed and stuck in this dream, this nightmare, this paranormal realm?! I move hands and feet that I know do not belong to me. It is as though I am stuck inside a body that does not belong to me. It is like, I was forced into skin that does not fit right, and it is now that I realize I need to worry. That this is not a dream. Dreams are not this real, and I want to lay here until I wake up. I’ll wake up; I know I will. People always wake up from their nightmares. Just like the monsters, they never grab your feet when they hang out from the blankets. Demons are not real. But as soon as I tell myself to just lay here in this stranger's bed and wait for the suffering to cease, some strange force literally rips me out of bed, forcing this body to get the hell up. It is like my mind, and my body are not one.
I slowly slouch out of this strange bed in this strange room in an unknown location in god knows where. I am trying to remember how to walk again. This body is so frail; it feels malnourished and weak as hell. I make my way to the bathroom to ensure I avoid the mirror next to the bed. The bathroom is more like a bathroom area. It is a toilet and a sink connected to the wall. I don’t think I am ready for the part of looking in the mirror just yet. I am ninety percent sure this is reality and the universe royally fucked up because the aliens did not wipe my brain when they transferred my subconscious, or maybe it was a secret government project gone wrong. I inhale deeply and exhale, and I gather the courage to move around on these stilt of legs and tell myself, “okay, nut up or shut up, Harper!”
As I move towards the bathroom, I note the color of the carpet and stare down at my bare feet. It is a gross military carpet. It is flat, like tile. How do I even know what military carpet looks like? Am I in the military? Is this an army room or facility? This girl is too young to be in the military. She looks like she can barely lift a ten-pound dumbbell, let alone do a military push-up. So why is she here in this room? Why am I here? Why can I not remember anything aside from my name? Everything is fuzzy. Something’s are there, but it is hazy. Overcast, like driving through heavy rain on a highway. You’re trying to focus on the road, but you are having a difficult time seeing the road, so you try to focus on the car ahead of you or the lines on the street, but it’s hard. The rain makes it hard to concentrate, hard to see correctly. There is so much rain in my head. The cars on the road are my memories. They are there in my head; I know they are there, but I can’t see them. The licenses plates are the most critical information, and I have to squint to see them. Where is all this rain coming from?
I stand at the entrance to the bathroom. It is as if my brain is fighting with my body. Or vice versa. Maybe both? I want to move forward, but at the same time, I don’t. So when I try to take a step forward, I end up falling forward. Then when I try to throw my hands out to catch myself. I don’t and end up face to floor instead. This will leave a mark for sure, I think to myself. As I push this small body up with all the strength there is left, heaving all the breath I have inside out, I grasp for the counter, and I get a good grip. I pull myself up, and as I do, I finally get a glimpse of my face, and when I do, I gasp. I can’t breathe. My heart has stopped. I don’t think it will start again. I look like a fifteen-year-old. So this is a kid's room, this is a child’s reflection, and I am hosted inside this child’s body. The reflection is so opposite of the real me. Wait? Do I still exist? Where is my body? Does it host this child? Or no one? Is it lying inside some government morgue? So many questions are racing through my head; it is pounding; I am so confused, and maybe I am the one confusing myself. Can you have a headache, a migraine, and a hangover without having had a single drop of alcohol? I feel like shit, but I don’t feel like I drank alcohol or did drugs. I try so hard to focus on what I can remember. The last twenty-four hours? The previous year, my life at all. It is all blank. The only thing I have in my head is an image of a beach, a light-skinned freckled woman, and a feeling that I am not where I am supposed to be.
"Shit, Shit, Shit," I say around to this empty room as I move hand down my face. I am alone in a bathroom talking to myself. The reflection is of a dark-haired pasty young girl. Pasty like she has never seen the sun's rays. Her hair is dark, sort of like Scarlett Johansson, Black Widow. Her nails are also painted black. So maybe she is into grunge? She didn’t keep up with the pin polished. It is chipped like crazy, and my OCD is running wild. Hmm, I have OCD. That’s curious. Also, is her hair naturally this color, or is it dyed? Her eyes are a sort of green color, so I think it could be dyed. She is so skinny. By choice or genetics? I dissect this body with eyes that are not mine, and all I can think is why am I here and my next move.
Related chapters
Harper's Vector Chapter 2: The Light Above The Door
Harper I don’t know what time it is, what day it is, let alone what year it is. How am I even able to comprehend time when I am at a loss on who I am. I feel crazy! I am in a body I know with every particle of my being just is not mine, but how do I explain that to someone? How do I even know how such a thing is possible? I am back on the bed that also, is not mine. I know what my next move should be. It should be to start looking around. Gain more information about my surroundings. My head is a cloud. A cloud so high in the sky it is practically cloud nine. It feels like mush. Like this body, small and weak. My brain is not processing like I need it too and for some reason it this all seems purposeful, and it is starting to piss me off. Every time I try to remember, it’s like a wave of pain rushes over my entire body. It is as though my brain is asking me not to remember. I start small. I look at what I am
Last Updated : 2021-08-15Harper's Vector Chapter 3: Heavy
Harper I feel heavy. Like I have been hit by a bus. It has to be close to what it feels like being hit by a bus going thirty in a fifteen zone. My bones ache—my fingers and toes tingle. My eyeballs are sore. I haven’t even opened my eyes yet, and I already do not want to start the day or the evening. I have no clue of the time. I must have partied too hard last night and was slipped something in my drink. I don’t remember anything. A.N.Y.T.H.I.NG, except how to spell adequately, and that’s something. What is that horrendous smell? Is it me? Harper breathes in the air. Taking it in the room and the strongest aroma is her. The smell is mostly urine. This girl has peed her herself. The second strongest smell is bodily odor. When did I last shower? Nails are chipped black, and they are dirty. I can tell they are not working hands. They are too soft. Fingers are slender. Does her family miss her? Whoever is keeping her, I mean me, is disgusting. Lo
Last Updated : 2021-08-18Harper's Vector Chapter 4: Missing Harper
Rowan I lay on an empty mattress in an abandoned house on an open freeway bypass in the middle of North Carolina. The face I wear now doesn't matter. It is not my own; none of them are. Not really. Only she knows my most authentic look, and she is there in the darkroom. I am cold. Not just because there are no windows in this home, but because I have lost my soulmate. We have been side by side for centuries, wearing many faces together, and now she is lost to me. How they found me, I'll never figure it out. Why she gave herself up for me, I'll never forgive myself for her sacrifice. But I know I will fight to get her out, to get her back, to get back at them. I will die without her, and we still have so much work to do. So many others to meet and so many others to awaken. Life is pointless without love, without meaning. I wandered like so many do for 30 years until she found me. I was so lost. I only cared about partying and having fun. I wa
Last Updated : 2021-08-18Harper's Vector Chapter 5: Déjà vu
Harper My head is pounding. I feel like my eyes are going to explode from the massive migraine pulsating inside my temples. I feel like I can’t move. I try wiggling. They slowly move. Next, I move my fingertips. Check, they also move—all good signs. I am staring at the ceiling and notice a small vent. I catch a glimpse of a small blinking light inside of the duct. My head is pounding so hard. It’s hard to focus on anything. Where am I? “hello,” I call out in a low, raspy voice that sort of cackles. I slowly hoist myself up into a seated position on the bed. The sheets are black. I have welted blisters on my arms. I push the sheets down, and sure enough, I have them on my legs. I lift my shirt halfway up, and I have three on my stomach. This is looking bleak. Every inch of my body hurts. Where am I? What’s my name? Focus! I grab my head, shake it in protest to remember something, anything. I see a face. It is beautiful; she is gorgeous. What is her n
Last Updated : 2021-08-18Harper's Vector Chapter 6: 2541
Rick It’s only my first week on the job, and they put me on security detail on one of their most prized pieces. I don’t know what it is yet. But I hear it’s a big fish. We are low on staff. Two guys retired, and one got hurt on the job, so they pulled me over. I am top of my class and graduated with honors. Even still, they never move newbies over to the black building. Too top secret. But I know not to ask questions. do…as…you’re …told… I am given my badge number, 2541. That’s now my name here. 2541. We do not use words in the black building. We can’t have any criminals knowing who we are. I do not have much of a back story. I am, in essence, no one. Like many, I feel like I have no real purpose. So I’ve made my job my purpose in life, and I guess I am alright with that. I don’t have much choice. I'm not good at much else. Some people are unique, and I’m not one of them. On my first day on the job, I am to change the be
Last Updated : 2021-08-18Harper's Vector Chapter 7: The Safe House
Rowan Watching the skyline as the sun rises. It's a beautiful color of oranges, reds, and a few purples. Looking up at such a beautiful thing makes everything in life seem so simple, so worth living. Like the bad things are just that, a bad thing one that can be overcome. Harper and I can overcome this, and when we do, we will be stronger in the end. They won't kill her. They need her. She is the eldest. I do not know when she was born precisely; she hates to talk about her past. She says it doesn't matter, and I never forced it. Because she is correct, the past doesn't matter. The only thing that truly matters is the present because the future doesn't exist either. I won't fail her. I can't forget her. I am scared, but I won't let that fear stop me. When I was younger, I always go by the saying that F.E.A.R. had two meanings: F.ace E.verything A.nd R.un Or F.ace E.verything A.nd R.ise
Last Updated : 2021-08-20Harper's Vector Chapter 8: Private Television
Harper In shock at the mass growing in front of her, It is beginning to grow bigger. Her name must be Amelia Harper Edison, and that is comforting to know. Seeing this coagulated mass formation grow from a small one centimeter to one inch to one foot in seconds, the more she focuses on it is fantastic and the little worry some at the same time. But she has no fear. It is as if she is familiar with the mass. As if she has seen it before but does not remember... she reaches her hand out and places on arm into it, and it goes inside. But not out the other end. She removes her arm. It is still just an average arm. She then decides to make the mass bigger and grabs it at its' side,s and focuses, and begins to stretch it, imagining it as being putty-like. Now the group is about five feet wide and four feet tall. She stares through it. Staring through it, images start to surface. Are they memories playing on a private television reel just for me? I see myself with
Last Updated : 2021-08-21Harper's Vector Chapter 9: The Big Catch
Agent Coulter I've read 2541 portfolios backward and forwards. I know every detail about her and have been tracking her for over forty years, and now I have her. I have her right here in one of my black rooms. So far, everything is going well; she is taking to the treatments to plan, and amnesia is taking over faster than I expected, which is even better. I need her to forget it all. Forget me, forget that red-headed devil, forget her group of jumpers, forget who she is, and especially what she can do at full potential. I need her to trust me. Need her to be on our side. Think of the possibilities if we had her as a weapon. She could jump over into people and gain top-secret information. Play the part for a time, even make deals on our behalf. The possibilities are endless. The red-head was too weak. I am sure Harper knew she wouldn't have lasted long here. But my Amelia, you are the one. The big catch, and you're all mine. I wonder if you'll
Last Updated : 2021-08-25
Latest chapter
Harper's Vector Chapter 18: Vibrations
Harper If I can't figure out how to use this "thing" inside of me, and figure it out quickly. I will be stuck here forever. I know I don't have long. That much is a sure thing. That creepy man who calls himself Mr. Coulter, actually Nicolas, is just a tall, slender creep. I'm not too fond of the way he looks at me. He has the look of a desperate man, and that makes me think he is growing impatient. He wants something from me, and I can't provide it. Because I honestly cannot, but even if I could, I am sure I wouldn't give him a god damn thing. So what now? Even if I try and practice, if I try to meditate, to focus my mind, they will just stop me. I have this fear of closing my eyes of trying to focus. It is instinct now, muscle memory. My body is restraining itself from concentrating, so I know they have been stopping me. I just don't know-how. There is nothing in this room to help me. Although I feel hopeful to remember more, that hope is quickly falling away as I sea
Harper's Vector Chapter 17: Two Sides Collide
Rick I met someone. It is still early, but she is beautiful, and her name is Leah. I met her at a grocery store, and we met talking about meat of all things. Funny how the world delivers precisely what you need at the moment you most need it. I've only known Leah two days, but in those couple of days, I feel like she has come to know me better than anyone else, even my family. I feel connected to her like I can tell her anything. She doesn't make me feel any pressure, just comfort. I have never been the kind of man to open up to people, but with her, it is as if the words fall off my tongue. I could tell her anything. So far, we have held hands and a few kisses here and there, but I am a patient man, and this is all enough for now. She says she likes to take things slow. She doesn't want to talk about her past, says it is too hard to talk about and that someday when she is ready, she will reach that point. Last night we went out for dinner; I took her to a roma
Harper's Vector Chapter 16: Flashbacks
Harper I am doing much better now. I think I am starting to remember more, to retain more. I am having flashbacks as I sit here on the edge of this bed. My situation no longer feels somber, bleak. There is hope in knowing I at least know who I am. I play with my hair and twist it in circles around my fingers. I've got to look busy for the big screen. I know they are watching. The problem: I have no idea how to control this "thing" inside me—this feeling of force. Something is there, something deep down, a muscle that has been used so many times that yearns to be used again. Yet, I do not remember how. I keep having these flashes where my head rings. I close my eyes for a moment, and I have to put my hands to my head, and I yell out in pain for a moment, and I see all-white for a few moments, but in those minutes, a memory will come through. I've learned a lot already, but none are a completed trail—just bread crumbs. If I can get out of here, I can use those crumbs to find t
Harper's Vector Chapter 15: A Dead Man Named Nicolas Sarkozy
Agent Coulter I am a simple man. I used to want nothing more to life than a wife, family, and a lovely cottage near a lake. But once you find out there is more to life than trivial things, it is hard to go back to wanting peasantry. In another life, my name was Nicolas Sarkozy, and I was born in the heart of New York City, but that is the past, and that man is long dead. She killed him long ago, Amelia Harper Edison. I will admit I loved her once when I was a young man filled with life, eagerness, hope, and more. But that man is dead; she made sure he would cease to exist that day she said "no" to him. When I think back on it all now, a much older and prayer man, a wiser man, I believe how cruel of a woman deep down she truly is to have given out the universe and then taken it away so quickly. When I met Amelia, who now calls herself Harper, she was elegant, beautiful, pristine, everything you imagine a woman should be, the pict
Harper's Vector Chapter 14: A Freckled Universe of You
Rowan As I lay in a cot in the safe house, all I can do is think of Harper. Headphones on my head, music playing on loud. I have a small journal in my backpack; I never go anywhere without it. It's none of Harper's journals. I re-read one of my favorite poems she wrote. It will always be my favorite one. It is titled: "A Freckled Universe of You": I use to feel purposeless without direction. I found myself days and days of just being in bed, not eating, not showering, just laying - just avoiding the world. I mean, what's the point of being in a world and living in it when the way others live it doesn't make sense to you. So you feel wrong, broken, and lost. What's the p
Harper's Vector Chapter 13: Recipe of Life
Cecilia Harper and I met when I was just twelve years old. I had lost my parents to the disease, and I had run away from an orphanage and lived on the streets. Not to drag out a sad story, but she became a mother to me, and later, as I grew older and wiser, I became a teacher to others, so I became her friend, her most trusted. She taught me many things in life, and one of the most important lessons she ever taught me was the "Recipe of Life," and it is this: - 1/2 cup of warmth and kind words - 1/2 cup of joy and good memories - 1 spoon of empathy - 1 pinch of humor Then you stir everything together softly, enjoy, and you'll feel how positive energies are renewed. There has always been something special about Harper that has brought us all together and kept us together as a family. With her gone, more fights have begun about the proper use of the Vortex and the ethics behind it.
Harper's Vector Chapter 12: Mr. Slender
Harper There is a knock at the door, and a slender man in a black suit enters. My body tenses, and I grip the sink hard rectangular top. Why does my body's memory do this? Do I know this man? I stare at him through the mirror. I do not turn around; I cannot. My grip is firm upon the sink. My eyes focus hard upon him, trying to figure out how I know him. Somewhere deep down, in the pits of my soul, I know him! My brain's electrical circuits are firing at rapid rates. He looks at something and then speaks, and I space out for what feels like hours. All of a sudden, the room goes black, and all I see around me is darkness. I try to focus on something, anything. But there is nothing. I know I am still in the black room because I feel my grip on the sink counter. Focus Harper, I tell myself. I internalize that I have my eyes closed, that there is no noise, that I am weightless, that I am for a moment, safe. Then I see it. Soft gray matter begins to materialize
Harper's Vector Chapter 11: A Bad Thing
Rick I did a bad thing. Breaking training is just not me. If you knew me and everything it has taken me to get to this point, you would know I do not break protocol. I was raised in a strict household—eldest of five brothers. Always the one in trouble. I always had the toughest of rules, and I grew used to it all, which was why military life and later the black build of the government field worked for me. Rules. Do as you're told. Hurry up, and then wait. Face forward and do not look around, up or down. Never ask questions. The senior leadership is always right. So why did I do this evil thing? Moreover, why did I continue?! I couldn't tell you. Intuition. Something beyond me guiding me to do so if you believe in that sort of crap. Inmate 2541, I just had to keep looking at her profile sheets for daily information. I don't even know how she looks, not that it matters; I mean, pictures are not provided in our schedule information sheets. My page is brief. It's a
Harper's Vector Chapter 10: 1890
Amelia Harper Edison - 1890, Playing piano in the home courtyard was my escape from the mundane, the tedious things required of a woman during this century. I've always had a yearning for something more, something beyond my physical senses; felt but not seen. At the age of just twenty, I was past marrying age, but no suitors ever to my likening, and I came from a wealthy enough family to reject offers. So I run my fingers through these keys and call out for something, someone to hear my desires and dreams. Rêverie by Claude Debussy is one of my favorites. I can be in any mood, and this song speaks to me. His music is dreamlike and makes me feel like I am back in my dreams when I play. From a young age, I have been told I am in my head so much that I will become trapped there. I always remember thinking, would that be such a bad thing? My dreams have, in a sense, become my reality. My most recent dream I flew. Can you imagine flying—what a wonder. In
