MidReal Story
Echoes of Destiny
Scenario: a man discovers that the life of the physical body works like a book. when the body dies, the soul is brought back to the previous point in the story that caused its death and has the opportunity to make a different choice.
Create my version of this story
Dust particles floated in the sunlight that streamed through the attic window, creating a hazy atmosphere.
The air was heavy with memories and unfulfilled dreams as I stared at the chest before me.
It was a reminder of a time long gone, when people lived in this house and memories were created in each room.
This was my first time in this attic.
The house used to belong to my grandfather, who passed away a few years ago, and my dad didn’t want to sell it.
He told me that he wanted to keep the house so that one day he could come back and see all the places where he’d spent his childhood.
This was his first time coming back, and since I had nothing better to do, I tagged along.
I walked closer to the chest, feeling the dust on my skin as I wiped my hand on my jeans.
It had been years since someone last cleaned this place.
I opened the chest and looked inside.
There were a few old photographs scattered on top of some old letters.
I moved them aside and saw a book at the bottom of the chest.
The chest had a few small compartments on the side where people could store their possessions.
It wasn’t rare to find some old stuff in them, but it wasn’t common either.
I looked at the book and carefully pulled it out from the chest.
It was sealed in a plastic bag, probably so that it wouldn’t get dirty.
I took it out of the bag and examined it closely.
It was an old photo album, with a leather cover and a string tied around it.
The cover was black and didn’t seem as old as the other items in the chest.
It was still old though, with some cracks on the surface.
There were some engravings on the cover, but they were very faded.
The string tied around the album was also black, but it looked new.
It seemed to be made of silk, and there were some patterns carved on it as well.
I carefully untied the string and opened the album.
There were some photos inside, but they were all stuck together because of age and humidity.
Some were even torn apart at the edges.
I flipped through the pages and saw a few letters at the back.
Most of them were written in a language that I couldn’t read, but I managed to find one that was written in English.
I carefully took it out of the album and unfolded it.
It was written by someone named “Lyla” and it was sent to someone named “Max”.
I wondered who they were.
Maybe some distant relatives of my family?
I shook my head and put down the letter.
I took another look at the chest, and after making sure that there was nothing else inside, I closed it.
I picked up the book and looked at it, then turned around and walked downstairs.
I sat on a sofa in the living room and opened the book once more.
I touched its cover gently and felt a chill running down my spine.
I couldn’t help but shiver, and a bad feeling washed over me.
I quickly shook my head and opened it.
As soon as I did, I was taken aback by what I saw.
A strange sensation washed over me as I stared at the book for a few seconds, like an otherworldly presence emanating from within its pages.
I hesitated for a moment before flipping through the pages once more, trying to identify what was giving me this strange feeling.
But I couldn’t see anything special about it, except for some words engraved on the first page: “Life”.
Nothing too weird, right?
As my heart raced, I finally gathered up my courage and opened the first page.
As soon as I did, something strange happened: there was nothing inside, just pure darkness.
My eyes widened in shock and I quickly flipped through the pages, but they all looked like this: infinite darkness.
A cold shiver ran down my spine and I felt an inexplicable fear grow inside me.
What kind of book is this?
Is there some sort of ancient evil sealed inside?
I thought about throwing it away, but then I felt an urge coming from inside me, like something was calling me.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, then I flipped through the pages one more time.
When I opened my eyes again, I saw that they weren’t made of paper at all, but something else: they looked like water!
No, not water … They looked like images of water!
I was so shocked that I almost dropped it.
I touched it carefully with my finger, but it didn’t feel wet at all.
It was just a book, but it looked so strange.
My heart raced as I stared at it for a few seconds, then I flipped through the pages.
Some of them were filled with images of water, just like before, but some were different: they showed mountains, rivers, forests …
Different scenes.
I thought about putting it down, but something was holding me back.
I took a deep breath and turned around, then opened it from the beginning and started reading it.
My eyes widened in shock after reading a few lines.
There were words written on it!
They were written in English, but they were so hard to read that it took a while for me to understand them.
I read a few more sentences, then closed the book and took a deep breath before opening it again.
This time, I started reading from the beginning, with more determination.
And what I read was even more shocking than before.
“Life is a book.
You are a story.
Every choice you make is like a word that is written into your book.
Every consequence is like a sentence that is formed by those words.
And every day is like a page that is filled with those sentences.
A day will come when you will reach the end of your book.
But that doesn’t mean that your story is over.
It only means that your book is over.
But life can be rewritten.
Just like you can take your book again and write it differently.
And you can rewrite your life.”
I stopped for a moment, feeling an inexplicable emotion welling up inside me.
It was hard for me to believe that something like this could exist.
But at the same time, it didn’t sound so absurd.
After all, if we think about it this way, aren’t we living in books?
And when we die, isn’t our book over?
So could it be possible for us to come back again?
But how could we rewrite our lives if they have already ended?
How could we change our destiny?
But as I read the next sentences, I understood.
“When you die, you don’t lose your story.
You don’t lose your words, your sentences, or your pages.
When you die, it is like reaching the end of your story.
But it doesn’t mean that you can’t go back to the beginning of your story and start reading it again.
When you die, your soul goes back to a specific point of your life.
To the last day of the last page you have read.
Then, it is like turning the page to the page that caused your death.
And it is like reading the sentence that caused the page to be written like that.
When that sentence is read, it is like getting a chance to write a new sentence.
And if you write a new sentence, it is like reading a new page.
So by writing new sentences, you are actually reading new pages.
And by reading new pages, you are actually writing new words.
And by writing new words, you are actually creating a new story.”
At first, I was shocked when I read these words.
But then, I was relieved.
I understood that when we die, our lives don’t end forever.
I also understood that our lives weren’t some kind of straight line where we couldn’t go back and change our decisions.
On the contrary, they were like cycles where we could go back to the beginning at any time and start anew.
So we could learn from our mistakes and grow accordingly.
We could live more happily, do better things, be better people…
I felt grateful to have learned this truth, this amazing secret about life.
But then I remembered something else: I was dead!
I took a deep breath and continued reading without thinking about this subject anymore.
“Sometimes when a soul has lived enough lives, or when a soul’s story is close to completion, or when a soul has made a very important choice, or when a soul has made a very important decision or performed an important task, or when a soul has grown enough or reached a certain level …
Sometimes that soul might be allowed to peek at other souls’ stories while waiting for its own story to be completed …
And sometimes that soul might be given the power to make choices for those other souls before their stories are finished …
But this power is very dangerous and very rare …
This power must be used with very great caution …
This power can be used only by those who have enough control over themselves …
This power can be used only by those who have been given permission …
This power can be used only by those who have enough wisdom …
This power can be used only by those who are ready …
Because otherwise …
It can ruin everything.”
I read these words, then closed the book and sat down on the ground.
Could it be possible?
Was it really?
I felt a strange excitement welling up inside me.
What was I going to do?
Was I going to try?
Was I going to take that risk?
Was I going to try to read other stories?
Was I going to try to change others’ destinies?
Or was I going to just read my own story like a normal person?
I took a deep breath.
What was I going to do?
There were so many questions in my mind, but I knew that I had to answer them one by one.
I opened the book again and continued reading.
“When a soul is given this power, it can see other souls’ stories like it sees its own story.
It can see other souls’ words like it sees its own words.
It can see other souls’ sentences like it sees its own sentences.
It can see other souls’ pages like it sees its own pages.
It can see other souls’ stories like it sees books on a shelf.
It can choose which story to read first.
It can change sentences in other souls’ stories as long as they don’t affect that soul’s story.
It can add sentences to other souls’ stories as long as they don’t affect that soul’s story.
It can delete sentences from other souls’ stories as long as they don’t affect that soul’s story.”
I sat there for a moment and thought about these words, trying to make sense of them.
I wasn’t sure if I understood them correctly, but I decided to continue reading anyway.
“When a soul is given this power, it is given great responsibility.
It must never interfere with another soul’s life without good reason.
It must never harm another soul’s life in any way.
It must never play with another soul’s life like it is just a toy.
It must never think of itself like a god or something greater than a soul.
It must never be arrogant or selfish with this power.”
I felt like the book was trying to warn me about something, but I wasn’t sure what it was exactly.
I felt like there was something important that I had missed, but I didn’t know what it was exactly either.
I decided to continue reading to see if I could find out what it was.
“When a soul changes another soul’s sentences, it is like changing the course of a river by throwing a stone into it.
The river follows a different path, but it still flows toward the same ocean.”
I thought about these words for a while, then realized what they meant.
How could changing just one sentence in a whole story cause it to be written completely differently?
I couldn’t believe my eyes, but when I thought about it, it made sense.
Every sentence could change the course of a story in some way, no matter how small it was.
I realized that even the smallest decisions could cause our lives to be written completely differently, just like the ripples on the surface of the river could be caused by something as simple as a stone being thrown into it…
“Even the smallest decisions can completely change the course of your life …
Even the smallest sentences can completely change your story …”
When I read these words, I felt like my entire life had been turned upside down in an instant.
I realized that everything I had ever done might have been different if I had made one different decision at some point in my life…
I realized that every choice I had ever made could have caused my life to be written completely differently…
I realized that everything I had ever done might have been different if I had made every decision differently…
