• Tyler's Journal Entry #1
    March 8, 2010


    tab I’m tapping my pencil on the table right now, trying to think of the best intro to my very first journal entry. Even for a person like me, it’s difficult to think of something that will grab your attention. As the reader. As my audience.
    tab Maybe I should start explaining why I’m writing this journal. You see, I didn’t have an exactly…normal life, for lack of better words. If you had seen me, you’d know. I wasn’t like everyone else. How I dressed, how I talked, how I felt…The sore thumb of a pale, white hand.
    tab All this said, this journal wasn’t made on a sudden burst of inspiration. I’m writing this because it needs to be written, though if I told you the state that I’m in right now, well, let’s just say it wouldn’t make any sense. So let’s rewind, not just to the beginning of the story, but to the beginning of my life as far as I knew.

    tab It all started with a blink. Your first blink is always incredibly awkward. What are you supposed to feel? How are you supposed to react? Waking up in a foreign landscape...it's not something you just shrug off. Surprisingly, though, that's exactly what I did. I heaved myself up, and took a look around.
    tab A cozy environment, if not a little too out dated. A large room dotted with antique rocking chairs and leather sofas. A coffee table. The tick tock of a nearby grandfather clock. A door, framed with intricate patterns carved into old, white painted Maplewood.
    tab I deduced quickly that I was in a house, and by the looks of it, a rather old one. I decided to walk around a bit, not even questioning for a second why I was here. I found myself staring at an object on the coffee table. It was a magenta colored beanie, a black stripe slicing through the middle of it, and a large dot splotched at the side. I picked it up, examining it for a second, when quickly interrupted by a booming voice.
    tab "That hat pique any interest in you?" A gruff voice. Not very pleasent. Probably coming from something old.
    :tab;I turned around. Calm. Not the way it should've been. I focused my eyes, and saw a plump, half bald man stared at me. A cigarette was tucked into the corner of his mouth, puffs of smoke slowly rising as he continued to gnaw on it. He looked like he was around 50 years old, his long, dangling brunette hair hardly showing through the piles of gray hair building up.
    tab Yeah, I was right. Something old.
    tab "Yes," was my simple reply. I looked at it again. I really did remember the beanie from someplace...If I could pin point from when...
    tab "Found it a couple yards away from your body." Obviously, I was a bit confused, so I repeated, adding a question mark at the end,
    tab "My...body?"
    tab "Yeah. You were out cold for several hours. Welcome back." It was a lot to stuff in someone's mind in a couple of seconds, so my reply was, again, repeating with a question mark at the end,
    tab "Welcome back?" I paused, and then went on, "I don't remember much of anything. Nothing, actually."
    tab "Too bad," was his "sympathetic" answer. What was this guy's deal?
    tab "Yeah..." I looked inside the beanie. A tag, three letters printed on it.
    tab "R.I.P.? Isn't that for grave tombs?"
    tab "And apparently for beanies as well. But you tell me. I'm not a grouty teenager." So I was a teenager. At least, that was what was highly implied.
    tab "I don't know...I can't remember."
    tab "Let's start with the simple introduction, shall we?" the man went on quickly. "I'm Kevin Woods. Mr. Woods would do. You got one?"
    tab "I don't...I can't remember," I pretty much repeated.
    tab "Swell," Mr. Woods retorted sarcastically. "Got any bright ideas for a new one?" I thought for a second, seriously considering a name. About a million came to mind, so I said,
    tab "No.”
    tab "Thanks for giving it all that thought," he grunted, inching his way a bit closer to me. "Well, if you can’t think of anything…Guess I better work my magic." He paused for a second, stroking the short, half-inch chin hairs for a moment. With a sudden "eureka" moment, he wagged his fingers up in the air, and exclaimed,
    tab "Got it. Tyler Woods.” I couldn’t resist a small grin.
    tab "Tyler Woods, huh? Has a certain ring to it." His reply was nothing but a cocky nod, and walking off with a simple “get yourself situated” kind of talk.
    tab The day ended with me staring at the mirror. And, surprisingly, though I was out cold earlier, my blonde hair seemed to be combed neatly. Long strands of lush hair were suspended over my ears, and hair was neatly flattened against my neck. A smooth as marble, clean face; no pimples, no wrinkles, no cuts; and a nice, buttoned up shirt fully suited with a tie that matched the beanie made me wonder what kind of life I had earlier.

    tab And after a few days of floods of paperwork to prove my existence and getting situated with the old, laid back suburb of my new home, Jayfox, I found myself at the door of the first hour of tenth grade.
    tab Oh, I knew I was different. My beanie and buttoned up shirt was enough for that to be certain. But somebody told me just how different I really was…I might’ve just decided to go hide in a card board box that instant.