Category: Third Triad

Word Count: 6,381

From the first moment I took my first steps, my parents had to start installing deadbolts and other locking mechanisms on all of the doors and windows throughout the house. The first scare occurred when I was still at the very young age of three. My parents awoke one night to find my bed empty. In a panic, they searched the house for me, but found no sign of me. After calling the police to the scene, my terrified father left my mother to wait for the authorities as he searched the nearby streets for me. 

My father discovered me safe and sound sitting on someone’s front doorsteps four blocks away. Apparently, I took the newspaper I found in their lawn and had its pages spread upon the porch. My father observed me scanning over the unfolded pages and thought he actually saw me reading them, but I was not even a in preschool yet. 

With each nightly episode of my sleepwalking, I was always found acting out of character for someone my age. Many times, my parents simply caught me quietly watching television. My mother found me one night as I was fervently flipping through the pages of the phone book. She never spoke directly to me about this, but I overheard enough conversations to put two-and-two together. 

One summer evening Mother came to check on me and found me encircled with books. I was rapidly scanning over the pages turning them one right after another. Mother swears I was speed reading through the dictionary. Spread around me I had several encyclopedias, a dictionary and multiple magazines. Most of them were damaged, the pages torn as if I could not flip through them fast enough. 

When she took me by my little wrists and attempted to take me back to bed, I fought back vehemently. Screaming unintelligibly, I kicked and clawed my way out of her grip. After that violent incident the doctor’s visits began. Several times a week my parents brought me to a special “talking doctor” to try to get to the root of my nocturnal sojourns. 

Bolts on the doors no longer kept me captive in the relative safety of my home. In my sleep I managed to come up with some very creative ways of circumventing the locking mechanisms. How I got out frightened my parents as much as what they would find me doing. 

One time they found me in a bookstore with the alarm ringing loud in the night. The owner of the store said he must have forgotten to lock the door one night, but he was wrong. I managed to enter a locked business and was found in the non-fiction section. I was surrounded by books of weaponry and war. It was at this point my parents decided dead bolts were not enough. Never once did I remember even a minute fraction of what occurred, which scared me even more so than it did my parents. 

In my bedroom door my father installed a key operated dead-bolt lock which only unlocked from the hallway side of the heavy-oaken portal. Outside a heavy steel grating was placed over my window and fastened down tight. The glass in my window was replaced by the shatter resistant glass containing chicken wire. The first morning after being so heavily secured in my bedroom, my parents woke to find me sleeping in my bed. Their hopes falsely rose when I went more than a week without incident. Their despair deepened when they opened my door on the ninth morning. 

Father unlocked the door and I was sound asleep in the corner. Using my crayons, I wrote on every inch of the wall I could reach. I don’t recall seeing the writings myself, but I know Mother took some Polaroid pictures of the strange characters. Even to this day I never ever peeked at those photographs. 

The walls of my room were painted over with several coats of paint that day. Fans were necessary in order to provide safe ventilation because my bedroom window no longer opened. I was kept in my parent’s room over the course of the next several nights to allow the fumes to dissipate. They never told me so, but I knew they began taking turns staying awake with me because of how they seemed so exhausted the next day. 

When I finally returned to my room, I was about a month away from my seventh birthday. Nothing was put in my room with the exception of my dresser, bed and a heavy table on which I liked to color and play. When it was time for me to go to bed, my parents removed the crayons and any other writing utensils. My clothes were in the dresser, but there was nothing I could use to write on the walls while I slept this time. 

Several months passed without another incident, until one night I somehow pushed the table to the wall and stacked the dresser on top of it. Using a spring removed from my bed, I carved new characters on the wall, all the way up to the ceiling in most places. I moved the furniture around the walls of my room to reach the ceiling. As with any other night of my sleepwalking, I remembered nothing. I awoke to my mother’s startled scream. Father picked me up and rushed me out of the room, and mother slammed the door behind us. 

I spent the first day of my eighth year answering questions and taking tests. Instead of a party, I was admitted to a mental health care facility. For the next two years, I called a hospital home. The doctors proceeded under the assumption my sleepwalking stemmed from a deeper psychological abnormality. 

Sleep studies provided very interesting results. They discovered my brain became fully active during my dream cycles. Although I was unconscious, the tests indicated to the doctors I was in fact awake. Attempts were made during one of my mobile dream-states to communicate with me. My gurgling, hissing speech was unintelligible. To the untrained ear I spoke nothing but gibberish. 

If the doctors provided me with writing utensils, my dream-self tried communicating by writing. The problem was I did not write in sloppy grade-school English. Instead, I randomly covered the paper with cryptic hieroglyph-like characters and grew frustrated when no one understood. Records were kept of each night’s session, the writings taken away from me, and audio recordings made. Throughout this time, I continued to remember absolutely nothing. 

One time the doctors thought it would help me confront my problem, and made me watch my nocturnal ego. It terrified me beyond imagination. It felt like watching a horror movie in which I was the object of terror. I saw myself moving about, speaking a strange guttural language and writing in an unknown script. I cried. I begged them to stop and eventually I refused to open my eyes and would not allow them to show me anymore. I could not watch as my body moved around like a puppet on strings under a guided consciousness that was not my own. 

Specialists used many forms of medication to try to control my extreme sleep disorder. Only the most potent anti-psychotics had any effect on me, but they made me very slow and distant during the daytime. I would rather be a victim to my night-self than spend my whole life in a daze. I cycled through dozens of drugs before the doctors found a combination that finally appeared to suppress my night-self. 

The hospital released me three months after I turned ten, and I was soon allowed to go back to school. The few friends I did have prior to my hospitalization no longer wanted anything to do with me. Other children who did not like me before called me a freak, monster and many other extremely hurtful things. They made me the object of “creep” jokes. Kids can be cruel, but they can be downright evil when afraid of something. I’m sure the jokes and speculation really circulated during my second absence. 

When the kids returned to school after the weekend, they were met with different messages. I got into the school over the weekend somehow, and covered every chalk board and dry erase board in the strange glyphs. Like always the characters did not follow a linear pattern. The characters were always placed in what seemed a random order, like the beginning and end of the message meant nothing. If it was indeed a language, the beginning, middle and end did not seem to matter so long as the necessary characters were present. 

Although I never heard it, the demeaning jokes about my sanity stopped to be replaced by frightened rumors. The people of the community whispered their theories as to the nature of my condition. Because of my secured bedroom, some rumors spread saying I was a serial killer. Others said I was being abducted by aliens, and others said I was possessed by something dark and sinister. Everyone seemed to have their own theory. My parents could no longer deal with the hidden stares and whispered gossip from the adults in town. Father put in for a transfer, and in only a few months we moved out to a two-story home in the middle of nowhere. 

Dad had a high up position in administration at the brewery in town, so he had the company move us out where some of the grains for the beer were grown. He had to take a pay cut, but that didn’t hurt us so much. Rent was cheaper in the country, the water came from a well, and we got most of our electricity from windmills. 

Here they hoped my excursions would end. Every time my parents discovered me sleepwalking, I was found either reading or watching television. With no bookstores, libraries or even neighbors’ houses, my parents thought I might remain inside. The TVs in the house were placed like traps for a mouse. Despite all other media, they hoped I would stop and remain in front of a television. 

I had my episodes for the first month of living in the country, and strangely they abruptly ceased. Six months later I was placed back in school, and my parents hoped with this fresh start I had the chance to make some friends. The school was nearly twenty miles from our house, so there was not the chance I would break into this one to cover the boards in those cryptic letters again. The expectation was I could now live like a normal teenager. 

I made these next four rides around the sun without any more episodes. Immediately following my sixteenth birthday, I wanted to get a car and my driver’s license. All the kids my age were beginning to drive, and I did not want to be left out of the experience. My parents were very apprehensive, and I understood why. I could not go anywhere in my dream-state because the next house was ten miles away. They worried, if I learned how to drive, I would then have access to more. I could take the car somewhere to satiate my dream-self’s need to digest information. In the end, it was decided it was best I not yet learn to drive. 

The final consensus between my father, my mother and I was it was not yet time for me to become quite so mobile. After our discussion, I went up to my room and went to bed. The force inside me driving my uncanny behavior apparently grew frustrated. When I awoke the next morning, every notebook I could find was filled with the inhuman hieroglyphs. It seemed like it should take several days to fill that much blank paper, but it obviously happened over a few short hours’ time. 

Every night I recorded these strange writings. I used the same set of glyphs every time, but they were never in the same order and never seemed to show any discernable patterns. Many of the characters were repeated, but with no seemingly logical organization. 

Once again, my parents pulled me from school. They did not know what to do and were desperately at their wits end. I even overheard them entertaining the notion of bringing an exorcist to the house. Neither of my parents were ever the religious sort, but at this point they were willing to try anything. Psychiatric care did not help, anti-psychotic drugs failed to produce positive results, and even moving me out to the middle of nowhere did not stop my sleep-walking episodes. 

Some of the symbols I recorded bore a striking resemblance to crop circles. Others were hieroglyphic in design. My nocturnal writings had a vaguely Asian design as well as Scandinavian and Arabic. I was absolutely convinced I was writing in some form of obscure or unknown language. There had to be someone somewhere who could interpret this for me. 

My parents were now keeping an incredibly close eye on me, ensuring I did not leave home at any time after sunset. They hid every scrap of paper, every pencil, and every pen in the house. They tried to remove anything with which I could write or record these symbols. 

My closest friend, my only friend really, came out to the house to check on me occasionally. He felt bad for me living my life in virtual solitude. It was nice to have a good friend like Neil. I told him about my sleep-walking problem, but I did not lead on as to how severe it truly was. He was very understanding when I told him the sleeping disorder again grew worse. It came and went with an increasingly predictable frequency. When Neil asked if I needed anything, I think he was only being polite. I don’t think he expected my response. 

I gave him thirty dollars I had hidden away, and asked him to buy me some pens and paper. I wanted him to buy as much paper as that afforded. The next request really stunned my friend. I asked Neil to deliver it to me at the road which ended at the back of my family’s property. He almost acted reluctantly as if I were trying to get him to go along with a major drug deal. 

Now, I wanted a way to continue my dreaming journal, and this was the only way to procure the supplies necessary. I knew Neil was intelligent enough to discern something was amiss, but he agreed to do this for me anyway. I loved to write, and to my friend it was a feasible excuse because he knew I loved to write. Neil was quite aware of this because we shared several classes together before I was removed from school. 

I never remembered meeting Neil to get my supplies, but when I woke the next day, I found them sitting on my dresser. The last thing I remembered was telling my parents I was going for a walk in the early evening. While I sat against a tree as I waited on Neil, I must have dozed off and my dream-self took over. 

I do not know what happened during my encounter with Neil, but I never saw him again. I felt like I was going to lose control and succumb fully to this force driving me during my dreams. I feared I would lose myself forever. 

I began meditating during the day. When I cleared my mind of my daily worries, I slowly but progressively felt my will grow in strength. I did not have any more episodes over the next few weeks as I continued my meditation sessions. The more time I spent in meditation, the stronger and more in control of myself I felt. 

During those weeks, I slept soundly through the night. When I woke up each morning, there was nothing written in my notebooks or anywhere else. I thought perhaps my dream-self was now under my control. In the middle of the fourth week, I awoke to find the strange glyphs recorded on one of my notepads. The meditation worked, but now to a smaller and smaller extent. 

I began a regular routine of going out for a one-hour brisk mid-morning walk. I returned home and ate a small lunch, and after a soothing shower, I went to my room to meditate. As the weeks passed, I found deeper meditation was much easier and my episodes again seemed to lessen. I still found writing in my notebooks, but the frequency of these episodes continued to grow less and less often. 

In the fifth week something happened that never happened before. I was meditating later in the evening and I felt another conscious invading its way into my mind trying to take me over. I struggled against this presence that I now understood took over my body during the night. A swirling vortex of colors and shapes filled my mind as I heard voices in my head, voices speaking in a language alien to me. I fought vigilantly against this consciousness trying to claim my body for its own use, but alas I succumbed to the superior force. 

My meditation sessions grew more intense as I increased them in length and frequency. I knew now something else, something alien took control of my body as I slept. Now that I had more of an idea of what I was dealing with, I had to discover some means of combatting it. I managed to shield my mind from it for months, but I was unable to fortify my psyche enough to prevent it from once again possessing my body. 

This time the invader did not try to take me over while I was asleep; it took me over when I was during one of my meditation sessions. I fought it off for fifteen minutes or so before I finally succumbed to its superior mental strength. I felt the alien force reaching deep inside of me. The idea of something else taking control of my body absolutely mortified me. 

What was it? Where did it come from? Why did it take over my body? What did it want from me? 

I woke to find more of my notebooks filled with the strange writing. This time I remembered having very vivid dreams. I could not remember what they were about, but I do know I woke up with a feeling of extreme claustrophobia. 

I began to spend even more time meditating. I went from meditating an hour a day to meditating for nearly five hours at a time. In the morning, instead of taking my daily constitutional, I would sit in the forest to meditate. I practiced removing the sounds of the birds, insects and any other day-time animals from my thoughts. I practiced blocking them out along with the rest of my worries. It was not long before I was able to do so successfully. 

The invading psyche still took me sometimes while I slept. I learned long ago there was nothing I could do about that. My notebooks filled with the strange writing, which I now assumed must be the written language of my possessor. Once again it tried to take me during a meditation session. I fought for control of my own body for more than an hour. This time, when it won, I knew what it did with me while my physical body was under its possession. It sent me to its own body, which seemed to be in some sort of hibernation. 

I tried to move, but I had the muscle control of a newborn baby. I did manage to open my eyes. What I saw was like nothing I ever saw before. I was inside of some sort of structure. The architecture was totally alien. I tried to move my head to look around, but I was so new to this body, I did not know how. I studied the same small area in front of me until my tormentor returned me to my own physical form. 

I remembered everything when I awoke in the morning. I remembered seeing some of those strange symbols, those strange glyphs I recorded in my sleep. I still did not know what they meant, but I felt like I should. I looked at the drawings with a distant familiarity instead of the absolutely unknown as before. 

I finally learned what happened to me during the night ever since I was a small child. I never was sleepwalking. Something took control of me as I slept using my body like a puppet. During these invasions, this other being trapped me in its body. 

I realized, when I entered a deep meditation, this other creature thought I was sleeping. It always took me when I was asleep because that was the easiest time for it to do so. It did not have to wrestle with my own consciousness as I slumbered. That is why I never remembered it taking control of me. Every time I was thrust into its world, I was unconscious. When it took me during my meditation, it sent me into its body with me in a waking state. 

I felt a whole new sense of terror. It was scary enough when I thought I was sleep-walking. The idea of an alien creature taking my body to use as its own absolutely horrified me. There could not possibly be a more of a personal violation thin this. This thing controlled the fate of my body as I slept. 

I could not tell anyone. I could not ask for help. Who would believe me if I did? 

Anything I told anyone would only make me look like an absolute lunatic. I would be locked away for the rest of my life. I wondered if that might not be for the best. If I was locked away, if it had no use for my body, perhaps it would leave me alone. That would be no kind of life for me to live though. I think I would be better off dead. 

After this latest experience, I knew what happened to me as I slept. Perhaps now I could learn to use its form as it did with mine. Fear of the unknown passed over me in waves. I did not have a clue as to where my mind was sent as I slept. Wherever it was, I was sure it was no place like this world. 

I got very little exercise during the day because I spent much of my time outside meditating. I believed I discovered the way to salvation from my nighttime activities. Each time I fought against that other mind; I found it easier and easier to fend off. I still could not defeat it, but with continued practice perhaps I could. During the day I stayed master of my own body, but in my sleep it still belonged to the other. 

The next time it tried to take me during one of my meditations, I allowed it to do so. If I could learn more about it, I might just gain an advantage at fending it off. 

Trying to make any voluntary functions in the alien body was still very difficult. I was trying to use a form vastly different from my own. I realized the strangeness of the coloration inside of the structure was not an effect of any design or architecture. The color perception of this body was just as alien as the body. It had no sense of hearing that I could discern, but I could somehow feel the things around me. 

I lay there on my back, its back, and stared up at the ceiling. There was no way this room was tall enough for this body to stand. I figured it must be some sort of crawling creature. I tried to turn over, to get on my belly so that I could crawl, but I simply did not yet have the muscle control to do so. I squirmed around some, which was much more than I did the first time. 

Several months passed as I learned how to use my possessor’s body more and more. The reason I could not roll over in its belly was because it already was on its belly. I was right when I thought it was a crawling creature. The ceiling was only twice as tall as the body was high. With time, I learned how to move the alien body while it was mine. 

The being swapping minds with me was long and narrow. Three sets of limbs lined the slender form. The front and back sets of limbs acted as feet while the center set performed the function of arms. Learning how to manipulate all six limbs was by far the most difficult part of operating this form. Now I knew why it started taking me while I was so young. It had to learn to use my form as I did its vastly unfamiliar body. 

The neck was very stiff, and I found it impossible to look downward. It finally occurred to me that this thing had eyes in the top of its head causing it to constantly look up. This creature apparently relied mainly on its senses of smell and touch. I did not know how the body did it, but somehow, I could feel everything around me. Without physically touching anything, I could still feel the smallest detail. I could read the engravings on the ceiling even with my eyes closed. I thought perhaps it was some sort of sense that acted like radar. 

Eventually I learned to control the body enough to crawl around. The long arms protruding from the sides of the creature were attached to the back legs by fan-like membranes. The membranes looked a lot like they were once wings, but were no longer strong enough to get the body off the ground. 

The room in which I always found myself appeared to have what looked like a doorway at one end. The opening was as tall as the ceiling from the floor and twice as wide. I did not try to exit this one room. I did not want this being to realize I learned to use its body as my own. 

I allowed this to continue for nearly a year. The opening to this chamber opened into a vertical shaft. This was how I discovered this body possessed the ability to easily climb up walls. I could also crawl along the ceiling. The body did not have to turn; the limbs pivoted from front to back with natural ease. 

I must have had some minor access to the alien’s memory, because it did not take me long at all before many of the hieroglyphs made sense to me. I was able to determine most of the engravings on the ceiling mapped out this creature’s family tree. It listed the name for each birth. 

I waited a long time before I could bring myself to leave this room. I did not know how I was supposed to act in the case I encountered others. Once I did, I found a labyrinth of tunnels cut through the stone. Rooms did not have doors, so several times I almost entered the chambers of others. 

The first alien I encountered said something. It did not use sound. It did not even use this radar like sense of touch. The only way I could think of describing it would be to call it telepathy. I could not understand what it said, so I repeated what it said to me. Apparently, I succeeded because this being went on about its business. 

Somehow, I knew the tunnel led to a large chamber filled with more of the aliens. It was some sort of bazar or market. I avoided any such places until I developed a better understanding of their way of speaking and what their words meant. Just as with the written language, it did not take me very long to learn their means of communication. Their words made sense to me very quickly. 

I tried not to spend too much time away from my possessor’s chamber. I did not want it to know I was taking excursions in its world as it did in mine. If it knew I gained command of its body, the alien may end the swapping of our minds. I wanted to know as much about these creatures and their world as I could. I hoped to find something that would indicate where in the universe I actually was. 

I continued to avoid large, crowded areas such as the market. I learned these beings were very artistic. The tunnel system was carved with amazing images and art galleries were common. I did find the three-dimensional carvings to be very strange. I could feel their details as I moved, and some of them seemed to be somehow physically impossible. 

The walls of the tunnels also contained engravings detailing the destinations of each passageway. This made it very easy for me to explore without getting lost. It also helped me avoid any large, highly populated areas. One of my biggest concerns was I would run into another who was friends with the one’s whose body I used. 

Their social structure was as alien to me as their world. I eventually learned the concept of being friends, the way I understood the relationship, did not exist here. In fact, it appeared every individual lived alone. They only came together when it was time to conceive a child. 

The family structure of this society was very loose and disconnected. When a child was conceived and born, the parents returned to their respective chambers. Who cared for the body was determined by the sex of the child. The custodial parent was the one with the same gender as the child. I did think it very odd that the creatures reproduced much the same way as animals on Earth. The idea that they had only two genders, the same two genders as found in my world was incredible. 

I learned much about these creatures and their ways. I understood why the being in my body was going to my world. It wanted to study us. Our ways of life must be as alien to it as its world was to me. This invading mind apparently went unaware I controlled its body as it controlled mine. This creature wrongly thought I was asleep while I was in deep meditation, rather than sending my sleeping mind into its body, it was sending me in a conscious state. 

I discovered these creatures expected a great cataclysm to occur sometime in their near future. This idea struck fear into my very soul. I began worrying they planned to take the earth, steal our bodies, and leave us here to die. I grew strong over this time, but my possessor was stronger yet. I did not think I could stop it if it tried to take my body for good. 

These tunnel dwellers did not perceive time in the same way as humans, so I could not determine when the creatures expected the cataclysm to happen. If they tried to take host of human bodies in mass, they would doom all of those lives. They may even doom the entire human race. 

I wanted to warn everyone I knew. I wanted to help the human race defend itself from the likely invasion. I wanted to help the earth, but I knew everyone would think I snapped. 

Who would possibly believe such a strange tale as this? 

I continued to study them as much as I could. There was a faint hope I could find something to help my people. My mind could not understand these beings’ odd sense of time. If I wanted to save my world, I needed to know how much longer I had. If there was enough time, perhaps I could at least save a handful of people. 

Their art also seemed to be a sort of recording of history. I therefore decided to spend time in their museums to try to gather information on their full history. The problem was, to get to one of these places; I would have to travel through the community’s market. There were thousands of others in the bazar at any given moment. I had a rudimentary command of their language, but not enough to engage in conversation. If any others engaged me, I might be found out. 

Eventually I decided I had no other choice. The ones I encountered up to now were not very communicative. A greeting was traditional, but I encountered no conversations thus far. I could only hope they were the same way when gathered in large numbers. 

Finally, while the other made use of my body, I worked up the nerve to pass through the market place so I could reach the museums of history. I passed many other tunnels on my way to the large chamber, passageways leading mainly to the dwelling rooms of the aliens. 

Those I passed on my way said nothing but the usual greeting. I felt rather good about my chances in the bazar. The massive chamber contained thousands of these beings. When they gathered together in crowds, the typical greeting was apparently not necessary. 

Vendors greeted me with offers to purchase their products. I politely told them no and went about my business. I was so glad these beings did not form personal relationships. If they had, one of them may have recognized me and initiate a conversation. As it was, I made it to the other side without ever having to say more than a few words. 

This was the first time I encountered any of their technology. The aliens used crystals of different sorts as what I could only describe as computers. All this time, I carried on this body a belt containing pouches full of crystals. I thought these were used as currency, but I actually carried with me some of their technology this whole time. I never took the time to discover their purpose. 

I made my way through the tunnels to a museum dedicated to relics recovered from ancient civilizations. I thought that might give me some insight into their perception of time. I hoped then I could figure out when they expected this massive cataclysmic event. 

So far it was impossible for me to determine what the event would be and when it was supposed to happen. I did not ask any of these beings any questions about the events. I only knew what I picked up here and there. 

I was excited about seeing their archeological finds, but I could not rush to get there. These creatures did not display stress or excitement. They always went about their business at a leisurely pace. If I tried running, or even rushing, I knew I would draw unwanted attention. 

Stifling my excitement, I entered the museum. The carven walls were high, the highest I encountered until now. Even the marketplace did not match these heights. It was shallower and more widespread. 

The high walls were decorated with massive engravings. The ceiling was so high in this museum because of some of the things it contained. It appeared, in this ancient civilization, the dominant species walked upright. Many of the artifacts stood as tall as this body was long. 

First, I encountered a display of fossilized animal remains. An engraved tablet described the animals as livestock. The body I inhabited ate only the fungi cultivated in this subterranean civilization. For some reason the thought of eating another animal made me feel sick and woozy. 

I continued on to the next display, which was labeled as tools of the ancient civilization. I saw several familiar items in the display. One of the tools looked like the head of a pick-axe. Another of the relics appeared to be the tines from a metal rake. A large number of knives lay sealed up in a transparent case. 

The next display caused me a great deal of anxiety. I could swear it was a car. There were many pieces missing, but what was there looked like an old sedan. It amazed me a civilization on another world could parallel humanity so well. 

I got my answer when I approached the next display. This one contained the fossilized remains of the species that once dominated their world. Displays of stone tablets engraved in the ancient language sat scattered about the display. The words on the tablets were written in English. The skeleton was that of a human. 

I did not get transported to another world when the invader and I traded bodies. I was still on Earth. I did not travel through space; my mind traveled through time. The cataclysm they anticipated was not about them; it was about humankind. They were waiting to witness the extinction of humanity. 

It was right at this point I felt the owner of this body trying to return. One of the crystals on a belt I was wearing produced a sort of vibration. That was it. It used this crystal to take my body while forcing me into its own. I snatched the stone from the belt and tossed it across the room. The tug trying to force me back into my own body ceased. 

Without the device, the being in my body could not return. I knew, whatever the extinction event was, it was going to happen soon. In the display along with the skeletal remains was a carving of what it once looked like. The granite statue was an almost perfect image of me. 

I stood there looking at the preserved remains of my own body. It was no coincidence my possessor chose me. It was looking into how the owner of those remains lived. 

I did not want to go back home. I would let that being who violated my body remain to face the extinction level event. I stayed in this underground network. In time I learned to act exactly like the others. 

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