Crystal Ball

George walked up the steps of his

house, keys in hand and a dark look on

his face.

The neighborhood had been quiet

except for the occasional passing car,

which did not help his ongoing battle

with isolation and loneliness. The

quieter it was, the louder his thoughts

were, and so as he entered his empty

home which housed a quiet so large a

drop of a pin would be highly audible,

his head filled with a mnass of concepts.

He trudged his way up to his room,

carrying his jacket in his hand as

he threw his keys onto the desk and

collapsed on his bed. He waited a

while, his mind the only thing keeping

him company, and it wasn't good

company. All he had were regrets and

scenarios of brighter futures had he

made better decisions in the past. It's

been lonely since he moved away from

his family in england. He moved into a

small house in the old part of his town. He lived alone and didn't bother to get to know anyone.

He ran to the phone and answered,

"Hello?"

"Hey Sap, can you believe Governor

Schlatt had a heart attack and died

today? That's insane." A man on the

other end of the phone mumbled into

the phone.

"Im sorry, but you must have the

wrong nm- Today?" George asked,

confused.

"Oh well sorry then, but yeah today.

It's all over the papers." The voice

answered, not bothering to end the call

even though it was the wrong number.

George raised his brow, "Are we talking

about Governor Schlatt of Florida?

"Yeah, who else." The man answered,

his shrug visible in his tone.

"Schlatt died over fifty years

ago, though. Is this like a joke or

something?" George was convinced

he was talking to either someone very

uneducated or downright insane.

The man laughed loudly, "I don't know

about you, but I don't remember

Schlatt dying in 1920."

Now George knew the man couldn't do

math. Fifty years ago was not 1920.

"Everyone knows it happened in 1970.

Then hs right hand man Tubbo was

almost assassinated the next day."

George told the man.

He did not know why he was so

hellbent on correcting a stranger, but

he did so nonetheless.

"Tubbo? Everybody loves Tubbo. He's

fine and giving a speech right now,

listen." The phone sounded like it was

moving, and suddenly put up to a

radio.

The radio was barely audible, but

George could make out words like "This

is a tragic loss." and such. It definitely

sounded like Tubbo. George figured he

was talking to a crazy person and hng

up. He walked over to his bed, thought

about the phone call for no more than

3 minutes before falling asleep.

It was the next day. George brought up

a bowl of cereal to his room to eat.

He seemed to stare at his cellphone,

waiting for calls and texts of "how are

you?" from people that never seem to

Come.

He booted up his computer to watch

videos, when suddenly the old

telephone started ringing again. George

hesitated for a bit. Did he really want

to talk to a crazy person again? Then

again it wasn't like there was anyone

else that would talk to him.

He sighed then picked up the phone.

"Hel-" "How did you know." The same

man said into the phone.

"What?" "About Tubbo. How

someone was going to attempt to kill

him today." He asked seriously.

George rolled his eyes, "I told you.

Everyone in the state knows, we

learned about it in school and

everything. Didn't you? Also why do

you keep saying 'today?"

"What's the date for you?" The man

asked George.

"Uh..." George tapped his phone to

check the date, "July 28, 2020." No

response. Just heavy breathing that

sounded like hyperventilating.

After a while the man spoke again

softly, "It's July 28, 1970 here."

Now this was confirmation that

whoever George was talking to was

crazy.

"Look if this is some kind of prank I'm

just going to hang up. This isn't my

phone and I'm not 'Sap' or whoever

that is."

"WAIT." The man yelled, "Do you live

on 821 Manburg street?"

George started freaking out. The man

knew his address. He was going to end

the call and contact police or- or-

"Don't freak out!" The man read his

mind,

"That's my old house. Well it's my 'old

house' for you but I live there right

now. Does the upstairs bedroom still

have the hideous flower wallpaper?"

"Yes." George answered hesitantly.

"That means they haven't changed it

since I lived there! Give me a sec."

The man was silent for a while until

George heard a clicking sound. It was

pen uncapping.

"What are you doing?" George asked.

"Look in the corner of the wal, near

the window." The man told him.

"Why-" "Just do it." George heard what

sounded like scribbling on the other

side of the phone. George hesitated, but

walked anyway to the corner of the

room,

"What am I supposed to be looking

at-" Suddenly, old worn out pen marks

started appearing on the wall slowly,

like burning wood. "Hi" it said.

"Do you see that?" The man on the

other side of the phone asked, before

audibly capping his pen again.

"Y-yes." George was hyperventilating

and clutching his chest. This surely was

not possible.

"Who are you?" "Who are you?" They

both asked at the same time, but the

man answered first, "My name's CI-

Dream." "Dream?" George raiseda

brow. "It's a nickname. I don't want

to give you my real name yet since

you could be some government spy or

something." George chuckled, "Well I'm

George."

"So tell me George, who wins the world

series next year? Asking for a friend."

Dream asked, half jokingly.

"Im afraid I can't tell you that." George

responded, "Well technically I can, but

morally it's pretty wrong."

"Darn, thought that was going to work."

Dream asked, "So tell me about the

future. Wait does that sound nerdy?

Hm, tell me about 2020."

"Well..."

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