The Masters Family

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. John hadn't been in the right headspace to find out. He was too focused on whether or not he'd be able to start his first mission with the Naworbian society. John had joined up with them about three weeks ago. Due to his ancestors having a direct lineage to one of the societies founding families, he skipped all the trials one would normally have to perform and just took a blood oath.

To John's disappointment life hadn't changed much like he thought it would in joining a secret society. Although he wasn't sure what to expect since his parents never told him anything, he thought it would be more exciting. So far, the most thrilling things have been receiving a golden membership certificate, a brown and blue ceremonial robe with the society' logo and his very own room inside a floating castle in space. For security reasons, John was not predisposed to its location. All he knew was that this fortress was called The Naweyven (Nah-way-vee-in). It was constructed to be a place of refuge for members of the Naworbian society during times of war. There are over a thousand rooms within its walls that can accompany up to six people per room. At present, the only other occupant is the guardian of the haven.

Sitting Indian-style on top of his white king-sized mattress John anxiously awaits for the clock to strike seven. That's when the guardian will come knocking on his door to provide him with the details for his first mission. Normally, John wouldn't be so apprehsnsive but he's afraid he may have been too hasty with his decision to join his fellow Naworbians.

His reservations come from an incident in which Tina, a girl he had fallen in love with, had been mortally wounded. The memory was still vivid. He and Tina were inside a clearing, surrounded by a few stable fires and roaring wildlife approaching from all sides.

In trying to get away from their attackers, Tina stumbled backward and hit her head against a rock. John knelt down and picked her up to assess the damage. In the process, he got lost in her pulchritude. Her mahogany skin was as smooth as melted butter and for an instant, John was certainly going to kiss her but then he felt something icky on the back of her scarlet hair-colored head.

It was blood.

What happened after that is a mystery to John. The only thing he could recall was the aftermath. Everything that lived in the immediate vicinity eroded thanks to John's ability to manipulate time.

At least Tina emerged from the situation unharmed. Somehow in his grief-stricken rage he had healed her. When she awoke, Tina also saw the devastation and had asked John a question he still carried in his heart. "What did you do?"

What did he do?

John could only assume that everything his power touched aged to the point of nonexistence.

Sweating profusely now, John knows that seven o' clock has arrived. He has a unique link to time that enables him to have the exact hour at his disposal. He was hoping he'd be able to accept his mission but the thought of losing control is still overwhelming. What if his power exploded again, affecting innocent lives in the process? John could barely live with what he'd already done. He must turn back the clock. In doing so he would have more time to build up the courage to face his fears.

Knock! Knock! Knock! The guardian of the haven had arrived, putting even more pressure on John.

John's anxiety was much worse than he'd thought. Though he didn't have another situation to compare to given that he was unconscious, John was certain that his power was on the precipice of exploding again. The room felt extremely heavy. It was as if gravity occupied the space past the point of maximum capacity.

John had never gone back in time on purpose. Yet somehow, he began acting on instinct. He focused on three points. The object or person he wanted to transport (in this case, himself), whether or not he wants to go forward or backward in time (back), and the time and place he wanted to wind up (24 hours ago in his bedroom).

Success.

Knowing that he's got another twenty four hours to get himself together, John relaxes his head on his pillow.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Like lava being forced out of a volcano, John's anxiety intensifies. He wonders how it could be possible? The guardian is knocking at the door?

Breathing hard and shaking, John attempts to turn back the clock again. He's unsuccessful this time because his condition is worsening.

John's room is practically barren in terms of his own possessions. There is a trunk nestled in the middle of the west wall, and on the east wall next to an open window is a frame surrounding a piece of parchment that has the words "The Digitial Immigrant" written in the center. John spots it out of the corner of his eye and is instantly reminded of a quote that the immigrant had recited to him. "Never forget to hold on to love. It has the power to conquer all fear."

The words come over John like a victorious symphony. He is finally able to calm down even though he is still breathing heavily. His white t-shirt, black cordoruy shorts, and the area of his bed surrounding his body are drenched in sweat.

"John?" Are you in there?" asks the guardian of the haven.

John gets out of bed and walks toward the door. Every step on the hard brick floor gets colder than the last against his bare feet. On the door are two rectangular buttons. The button on the left depicts a closed door and the other an open one. John pushes the button on the right, and the door swings wide, away from John.