Myself (a work of fiction) (part I)

It happened in the wee early hours of the morning that I was abducted… by myself. I must confess some surprise when I was jolted awake by the site of myself entering my bedroom. He said to me—no—I said to me (I fear this may become quite confusing), “Get up, you’re coming with me,” which was strange; I’d never referred to myself in the second person before. I seemed to be concealing some sort of weapon, so I did not object. This had potential to be the strangest case of suicide ever.

It was early, so I was tired, and wasn’t moving incredibly quickly. As I disembarked from my bed, I looked out of the window. The sun had just come up. The light shone horizontally through the window, casting a bright light on the wall opposite the window.

I then remembered that I had left my baseball bat and glove at the base off my bed the night before. It would not be difficult for me to reach down, grab the bat, and attack my abductor. But no, I’d never do anything to hurt myself.

I must confess a great amount of confusion at this time. I was entirely unsure of how I could possibly be in two places at once. Additionally, I had no idea what I was thinking. As I already wrote, I would never do anything to hurt myself. So what could I possibly be doing then? The whole situation was very confusing to me.

I also found it confusing that I was talking to myself. A sane person until now, this was not something I was known to do. I considered asking me some questions, but it seemed to me a very strange thing to do, to ask a question to myself.

Vocal communication was remarkably unnecessary from that point forward. I knew that I’d allow myself to get dressed, and I did so accordingly, and as expected, I had no objections. I followed myself down the stairs and out the door. I knew where I was going to take me.

(More tomorrow...)