Welcome to the mind of a young man named Joel Triston. His world looks different from the average human's. His "killer imagination" takes him to unbelievable places, terrifying encounters, and insane events. He has no control over his imagination, and he imagines the worst. There's hardly a line between reality and the images created in his mind, and until he lands back in real life, he's not sure what's the truth.
"Joel, it's time for dinner!" I heard her call from downstairs.
"Just a minute!" I finished the last round of my video game, Team Fortress 2, shooting down a Spy from the other team. This was my escape. When I was entranced by these games, my mind wouldn't drift elsewhere. And I hated the places it drifted to.
I shut down the game and hurried downstairs to join my mom and younger sister.
"Where's dad?" I asked. I immidiately wished I hadn't.
"I'm not sure. I haven't heard from him, I tried calling him at work but he didn't answer so I'm assuming he's on his way home," mom said, quite cheerfully. I didn't see anything cheerful about it...where could he be?
It was a warm summer evening. The window was open and I could hear a bit of commotion coming from outside. I put my head out the window and looked down the street. There was a bit of traffic, and I squinted my eyes to try to see the cause. That's when I saw my dad's car.
It was flipped over. The entire front was smashed in, glass spread all over the ground. A few people ran around frantically, some dialing in to their cellphones, some shouting. None of them was my father. A small fire had started on the car, and was gradually growing. "Get away! Get away from there, it's going to blow!" A man shouted, getting out of his truck, and moving toward the people near the car so he could be heard over all the noise. "But we haven't gotten him out yet! We can't get to him!" "Get out of their or you're all going to get killed!" the man shouted, pulling one of the people watching away, who seemed to be in some sort of shock. "There's no way he's alive in there! Look at the car! And we haven't heard a sound from inside!" another man said, as he began backing away with a few others. But the one man was determined to get to the body. "He could just be knocked out and you want to just leave him there!?" "There's no way! Get away from there before the gas tank blows!" People kept yelling at him, trying to get him away, but none of them got any closer to pull him back...the fire was growing to large. "Doesn't anyone have a fire extiungusher??? Where's the police? Has anyone called 911??" People were panicking now, and worried about the man near the car. "I called 911 but couldn't get through!" a woman said frantically. "Me too!" someone agreed. "I called and got through!" someone else said. "Get away from there, help's coming soon and they can take care of getting him out!" someone shouted at the man. But he wouldn't listen. An ambulence came blaring down the street, the man by the car looked up as he heard it coming, and began to stand to move away from the car. But it was too late, the flames had reached the main source of gasoline and there was an explosion, throwing even more bits of the car all over the place...Parts of the car and glass flew out and sliced in to the man as he was thrown back from the impact of the explosion. He flopped on to the asphault, motionless. The people watching screamed, and the paramedics sprinted from the ambulence, toward the scene.
I felt sick.
"What is it??"
I looked at my mom but didn't say anything.
"I was asking you if you wanted any of this salad? But there you go, zoning out again."
I looked back out the window. There was nothing there. No cars. No explosion. Nothing. Just an elderly couple on a walk with their pet dog.
"I'm not hungry."