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I have been in this city for over thirty-five years; I am tired and would like to stop, if I only knew how. I know he won't let me stop; he won't let me die and end this nonsense. I believe I was not meant to have my own kingdom, or become anyone's ruler.
Given the chance, I know I would have ruled with wisdom and honesty, like the king before me did. I miss my friends, I miss my family. I am tired of rolling through time like a lost stone. I know it's hard to believe but I am trapped in-yet another-time bubble now and I wish I could somehow burst it.
I learn new things every day, but I'm not as thrilled with modern progress as I was with the first years of my time-travel experience. In many ways, even the newest inventions are already old to me.
I have seen too many things; my soul is an ancient one.
More and more I want to go back to my own era, to my own kingdom to fulfill my destiny, but I know going back would bring death to many there. I know it might start a period of tyranny that could change history as you know it; that is why I have not even attempted to go back.
You see, I was not born alone.
I come from a far land, from a far place I don't even think exists anymore. I've tried to locate it in your current maps but it does not show anywhere; your history books don't mention it either. It is as if it never existed. I fear the worst happened to my people.
I am beginning to forget things I don't want to forget. I am the last of my kind. I now believe I must have been cursed, for I am destined to drift endlessly.
I force myself every day to remember where I come from. I still take pride in my lineage, as my blood comes from that of kings and queens who lived in wonderful kingdoms, centuries before I was born. I was promised a country and people to rule upon my birth. I was promised so many things.… However, I was never told any of this could happen.
No one warned us.
“Wow. This is great!” I heard myself saying.
I took the diary-like book and walked with it into the kitchen; I could barely take my eyes off it. The literary style and story were unlike anything I'd ever read before
I took some leftover pizza from the fridge and sat down at the dining table; I wanted to read more.
************
Gavin sighed and said, “The Medallion made us travel through time and space. We are still not very sure how to use it, but after staying in Argentina for six months we-”
“Argentina?” I asked, squinting at Gavin.
“Oh God!” Roland said standing up; he began to pace around the kitchen.
“Yes, we initially 'landed' in a small town about 150 miles from Buenos Aires, in 1943. Rough times to be there.… Anyway, it took us a while to figure out what had happened back in Borlock's lab….”
“What year were the two of you born in?” I asked, thinking Gavin was out of his mind and Roland didn't seem interested in his brother's mental health; all he wanted was to get his hands on the Medallion.
“Gavin, if we do it my way he'll return it. I swear!” Roland said, walking toward Gavin and leaning over the table; his face came only inches away from Gavin's.
“No, I don't want you to hurt him,” Gavin said, shaking his head.
“This is ridiculous!” Roland roared in Gavin's face.
Gavin didn't even blink. Roland started to pace again.
“Roland, I'm sure if we explain it to him, he'll return it,” Gavin said, standing up and walking toward his brother.
I took another sip of bourbon. Gavin had been right when he said Roland would never harm him; I did notice that for some strange reason Roland would not get physical with him. Maybe he loved his brother after all. Maybe there was another reason for not hurting his twin.
“No! There's no other way! There's no reasoning with these bloody mortals! He might not even have it. He might be lying to us, Gavin!” Roland yelled in Gavin's face again. He looked like a madman.
“Mortals?” I asked.
“The Medallion makes us immortal…,” Gavin turned to tell me.
“Quit giving him any more information about the blasted thing! Let's make him give it back!” Roland said to Gavin.
I watched both siblings arguing over what to do or not to do with me. It seemed to me that Roland had no problem playing along with Gavin's psychosis.
I yawned; it had been a very long day for me. I put the bourbon bottle on the table and stood up to go to bed; I didn't care if Roland drank from it anymore.
As I walked through our living room I noticed Gavin had done a good job cleaning up; he even saved a few ornaments and placed them back where they belonged.
“Where do you think you are going, you peasant? We haven't said you are free to go!” Roland yelled, somewhere behind me.
Under different circumstances, I would have laughed at Roland's words, but I was too tired to do any of that.
“Roland, no!” I heard Gavin yell.
A second later something hit me hard on the back of the head. I fell on the floor; the smell of bourbon was almost choking me. I lay on my side for a moment. I tried to move but someone kicked me in the stomach; all the air went out of my lungs as I landed flat on my back.
I opened the eyes and found Roland lifting me by the shirt.
“Where is it? Speak!” he yelled in my face.
Gavin rushed to my side; I felt I was going to black out. I closed my eyes. Roland let go of me and my head hit the floor. I still couldn't breathe. I tried to get my hand on my head but my body didn't respond; I was slowly losing consciousness.
“Killing him now is not the way!” Gavin yelled at his brother.
I felt Roland's hand on my chest. I heard him say, “It was here! I can feel it. Charles had it in this pocket for some time today.… Oh, blasted hell! He does have it!”
“There are other ways to get it back; now, help me take Charley to his bed. It's getting late,” Gavin said.
“Move over, I can do it alone,” Roland said in a very bad mood.
I tried hard not to pass out; I didn't want Roland's filthy hands on me.
I woke up in my bed. I began to move a little and felt a sharp pain in the back of my head; I tried to find out what it was. My hand touched a big bump at the base of my skull.
I slowly turned around; I had been sleeping face down. My abdominal muscles ached, too. Everything around me smelled like bourbon, for some reason.
God, that was a nasty dream. I probably drank too much last night….
I looked at the clock on my bedside table; it read 6:45. I closed my eyes and rubbed my face a little. I felt as if a truck had run me over.
“Are you awake?” I heard Gavin's voice coming from the door.
“Yeah, buddy. What's up?” I asked while yawning and stretching a little.
“Well, I was about to wake you up anyway…,” he said, walking in.
I looked up at him; I noticed I had slept with my clothes on. I even had my shoes on.
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