THE MOVE
This is my firsthand account of moving into a closed neighborhood, the strangest place I've ever lived. To this day, how my mom found it remains a mystery. We used to live in a comfortable place. The house was nice, the environment was clean, and the neighborhood was safe.
I was sitting in the living room when my mom called me. She said she had to go check out a new place where we'd live. I don't know why, but I never asked her why. We already had a place where we lived, and there was no issue that warranted us to leave. It did feel like our lives were being controlled. We had to do what we were doing, and even though it felt odd, I never questioned it. *Maybe it was because I couldn't, or maybe it was because I never remembered to.*
A few days later, or what seemed like just a few days, we had already moved into our new home. I couldn't even remember packing or moving... everything felt like a blur, like it happened in another lifetime. I don't remember how we got there from where we used to live. I don't remember the way back to our previous house. I asked my mom how we got to the new place, and she responded, "Don't you recall, silly? A moving truck moved our belongings a few days ago, and your dad drove us here this morning."
My senses became alert, and I looked at her to see if she meant that as a joke, but she was serious. My dad drove us here? As far as I remember, my dad and mom split up when I was eight. He took my twin sister and moved, while my mom took me. A few months after, he moved to another country. I never heard from him anymore, nor from my sister. And now, he drove us here? Things were becoming more insane. I felt like I was losing my mind. My mom saw my confused look and asked if I was okay. I quickly responded that I was just having a headache. Something's not right here, and I intend to find out what's going on without alerting anyone.
She came over to where I sat and placed a hand on my forehead. *"You must still be feeling the impact of that fall you had when we were moving, while assisting in loading the truck. "When she mentioned the fall, my mind went blank. Had I really helped with the move?
Was this some new reality I was stepping into?
"What fall?" I asked her, totally confused. She explained that she had told me not to bother, as the moving truck workers would help load all the luggage on the truck, but I had insisted on helping. A box full of Dad's tools fell on me when I tried to lift it. I was unconscious for over two hours. I stared in awe as I listened to her account. *I was moving boxes? It fell on me? I fainted? What the hell is going on? Why don't I remember any of these? Is this really happening because I hit my head? Something inside me was trying to convince me that that was the truth, but every fiber in me said otherwise. I decided to go with my senses and look further into what's happening.
I went into my room, and it was a replica of my old room. The only difference was that it was bigger. There were two beds in the room... It felt like I was living in someone else's dream, like I was the substitute in a life that wasn't mine. Everything in it was in twos. I thought that must be for my supposed sister. Everything felt like a trick to me. What exactly is happening? Am I going crazy, or is this real?
Mom called me to come downstairs and have dinner, and I went down to the dining room, only to see a man and a girl my age seated at the table along with my mom. They all smiled at me, and I just stared at them in confusion. Mom started dishing out the food, and I stopped her to remind her that we haven't said grace. They all looked at me strangely, and my mom asked, "When did you become the praying type?" I questioned what she meant by that, and she responded that she had never seen me pray before, not to talk of saying grace at dinner.
Now, this right here just added to the list of odd things happening around me. As far as I can still remember, I pray every day, and I have never missed a Sunday service. But now, I have never even prayed before?
What exactly is happening?!