《Nostalgia Trip》


 Chapter One: Jeremy

    Hey all! I hope you guys are having a good day so far. You don''t know me, and that''s okay. My name''s Jeremy, and I''ve decided to start a blog of sorts. What better place to upload my chronicles of life than here, right? Well, I hope I''ve made the right decision. I suppose I should get introductions out of the way then? I''m your typical college student hoping to get a degree in a field I''ll likely never approach in my career. You know, the usual. I figured I''d save a bit of cash and register for courses at my local community college, and that seems to have been the right move. Now I''m riding my way through school on grant money and loads of coffee. Sounds fun, right?


    I used to romanticize college life back in the day. I''d picture myself as a kid living on campus, attending parties, and finding the love of my life. Fueled by ramen and espresso, I would stay up late at night studying, followed by a session of gaming with my pals. Needless to say, this idealized version of higher education is far removed from my current reality. Shit, I hardly even know what my campus looks like. I take all of my classes virtually, which entails that I sit behind a computer screen for hours, listening to the droning voice of my instructors as they give their lectures. If you ask me, it''s a total drag. I knew I should have taken a gap year.


    I find it ironic how as children, we can''t wait to grow up. When we look up at adults, we see these big, strong people who can do as they please. They can eat what they want, sleep when they want, and seem to have many privileges in comparison to their adolescent counterparts. This naivety dissipates, however, as the burden of responsibility sets upon us all with the passage of time. I''ve come to miss the freedom I once had as a kid. Luckily, I''ve kept a few of my treasured items from the past. Earlier today, I looked through my attic until I found them. Tucked in the corner of the room sat a few cardboard boxes. I took them downstairs and traced my hand along the dusty surface before opening the flaps and peeking inside.


    I sifted through a pile of clothes I used to wear. Pressing an old shirt against my chest, I chuckled at how small I used to be. Tossing it aside, I continued rummaging through the various items in the box. Near the bottom sat a black digital camera. Lifting it up, I inspected its surface. It, just like everything else in the box, hadn''t been touched in years. My curiosity had been sparked, and I looked through the images it held.


    A photograph is like putting time inside of a bottle. We capture a moment and store it, and can view that moment years down the road. As humans, our memory can fail us, but a photograph will always present things as they were. Isn''t it such a cool concept? I grinned ear to ear as I saw the small child I used to be.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    There must have been dozens of photos of me in that little device. A flood of memories came back whilst I viewed the images. One photo depicted me swimming in a lake located just a few miles away from my childhood home. Another showed me grinning with glee as I swung on a tire bound to a tree by a rope. Right, that tire swing was on the playground at my former elementary school. I must have spent quite some time reminiscing until I stumbled upon an odd photo. There I was, standing there. I looked as disinterested as could be. Rather than carrying my typical smile, I held a frown on my face.


    I wouldn''t have thought much of it, had the next few photos not been equally as strange. Between them all, the expression on my face remained consistent. Finally, as I neared the end of the camera roll, I stumbled upon a photo of another child. Although I couldn''t recognize him, a sense of familiarity washed over me when I viewed the image. I knew I''d seen his face somewhere before. His bright blond hair and pearly white smile stood in stark contrast with my brooding appearance just a few photos back. There weren''t many notable photos following that one, so I put the camera away and continued my nostalgia trip.


    I remember my heart skipping a beat as I found the white pouch slouched against the edge of the box. I hastily picked it up and unzipped it. Slipping my hand inside, I pulled out the blue Nintendo DS (a DSI in particular), and stared at it in awe. Grabbing the power chord and plugging it into the wall, I connected it to my DS and pressed the power button. My eyes sparkled with glee as the screen lit up and displayed the signature Nintendo DS logo, before promptly taking me to the home screen. If you''re a 2000''s kid, you know how fun these things were. Hell, I bet we all share memories of staying up late, watching the faint glow of the screen as we played our favorite games.


    I fiddled around with the keypad a bit, scrolling through the page and observing the applications. Noticing there were no games displayed on the home screen, I turned the device around and glanced at the back. There was no game cartridge plugged in. Frustrated, I sighed and set the DS down, ready to explore through the box further. That is until I got the idea to look deeper into the white bag. Upon further inspection, I realized it held a single game within it. The chip lacked any art or title, so I couldn''t tell what exactly the game was. Shrugging, I pushed it into the cartridge holder of the DS until I heard a click.


    Finally, I was presented with the game on the home screen. The title read "Township: Village!".


    Holy. Shit.

 Chapter Two: Mister. O

    My jaw dropped as soon as I read the title. It had been YEARS since I even thought about that game, let alone played it. I clicked on the application instantly, waiting as the game loaded. Finally, I was presented with the title screen, as well as the old save files contained within the game. For those who don''t know, this game closely resembles the Animal Crossing franchise. You get to build and maintain towns in a fantasy world. Once the game loaded, I was spawned inside of a house. A header at the top of the screen swung down, the words "DarkMagicXX\_X''s House" inscribed into it. I hung my head down, cringing. The glory of a child''s imagination, am I right?


    I looked around the room I was in. I seriously lacked any sense of home d¨¦cor as a child. Paintings were framed all across the walls of the room, giving it the appearance of a cluttered mess. I made my way over to the dresser near my bed. I clicked on it, causing the drawer to open, revealing a stash of items inside. An apple, a magnet, 50 gold, and a journal all lied within the drawer. I selected them all and put them in the character''s pouch. Opening my inventory, I scrolled down and selected the journal.


    Right! So, one of the primary mechanics of the game is the ability to jot down notes in in-game journals. I''d totally forgotten about that. I was giddy to read through the ramblings of a kid without a care in the world.


    "i played with mister O today. i showed him my drawings from school and he really liked them. he said i did a good job and even gave me a cookie. he told me he would love to see my drawings i do next."


    Mr. O? Maybe he was an old teacher of mine? I couldn''t remember, so I shrugged and exited the journal. Leaving my room and making my way downstairs, I traversed the rest of the house, inspecting each room I came across. Eventually, I found the second bedroom of the house. As I entered, another header dropped down from the top of the screen, displaying the words "Mr. O''s room." I paused. Inside of the room stood another character. He towered over me, and he turned to face me as I entered the room. His head lacked hair, and he was dressed in a plain white tee and blue jeans. Resuming, I approached him. A large grin adorned his unmoving face. Deciding to chat with him, I clicked on his character, but he said nothing.


    The rest of his area was barren, save for a single door at the opposite end of the room. I entered it, revealing a bathroom. A silhouette stood in the tub, behind the shower curtain. Approaching it, I pulled back the curtain to reveal a second Mr. O. He simply stood there, sporting his same smile. Once more, I clicked on his character to open his dialogue. He merely said "Don''t forget to scrub your back," and nothing more. His eyes watched me closely, seemingly following me no matter where I was. I opted to close the shower curtain and exit the room. I admit, it was weird as shit for him to be in there. Then again, it wouldn''t be implausible for me to have placed him there as some kind of gag as a kid. You know how stupid and random a child''s humor can be. Still, I couldn''t remember for the life of me who he was.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    It took me a bit more searching to figure out why that character was in my house. An in-game computer sat at the dining room table and inspecting it revealed a character creation option. I was able to create and insert characters into my world as I pleased. Selecting the character creation option revealed that I had only created Mister. O. It was just him and I in this world, alone. Exiting the computer and turning around, I was shocked to see Mr. O standing behind me, mere pixels away from my character. As I backed away, his body stayed perfectly still, only moving his head to keep his watchful gaze fixated upon me.


    I stepped out of my house and roamed around the town. Not a single soul was in sight. I followed the dirt trail through the town until I reached a house on the edge of the woods. Every house up to that point had been empty, but I figured it wouldn''t be too much trouble to search through one more. As I entered, I was surprised to discover that it was filled with furniture and appliances. Even more shocking, however, was that I found the home to be fully occupied. A familiar man stood in every corner of the house, watching me.


    What the fuck? Who was this guy? I couldn''t remember for the life of me. I made my way around the house anyway, exploring the various drawers and cupboards sitting around. In one such cupboard sat a journal. I placed it in my inventory once more and opened it.


    "Remember Jeremy, it''s just you and me here.


    Love,


    -Mister. O"


    That didn''t seem consistent with my writing style as a child... I''m still not sure what to make of that. I set my DS aside and got up, a sense of confusion washing over me. I''d expected to find the incoherent ramblings of a kid in those journals. Instead, I was greeted with rather ominous notes left about in a desolate world. Well, an almost desolate world.


    I decided to simply shove my confusion to the back of my mind and continue going through the box. I was ecstatic to find a bunch of my old drawings. My artistic ability hadn''t developed past making stick figures, but hey, I was just a kid. Every crude drawing I found elicited a smirk from me, though I did find one in particular that stood out from the rest. I had drawn myself holding hands with a man. He was tall, and I had scribbled a pair of blue jeans and a white tee over his figure. A large smile had been plastered across his face. It was him alright.


    Maybe Mr. O was an imaginary friend of mine? I really don''t have another explanation for it. Though it is strange I can''t seem to recall him, nor can I remember writing those notes down in my game. I''ll have to ask my mother about him when she gets home from work this evening. Maybe she''ll know what this is all about. Oh right... and that kid in the photograph. I''ll have to ask her about him too. I''ll be sure to write to you all again after I chat with her about it. Until then, you guys take care.

 Chapter Three: The School

    Hey guys, thanks for checking back in with the blog. I''m glad to have received a few upvotes here and there. It''s nice having my humble little corner on the internet. As I promised in my last post, I was able to ask my mom a few questions regarding the photographs. For starters, she was able to identify the blond kid I couldn''t recognize. His name was Sam, and I used to be friends with him in elementary school. Unfortunately, this information didn''t clarify much for me. I can''t recall having been friends with a kid named Sam in school. I chalked it up to my memory failing me.


    I asked her about Mr. O, and upon doing so I could have sworn I saw her smile fade a bit. She relaxed back into her seat and looked up towards the ceiling, pondering for a while. Before I could ask her what she was thinking, she abruptly looked me eye to eye and told me he was an imaginary friend of mine, confirming my suspicions. She offered me a grin and explained how she would often catch me in my room, murmuring to myself about the numerous adventures Mr. O and I had gone on. Curious, I asked her whether she could recall what adventures, in particular, I claimed to go on with Mr. O, but all she could offer me was a shrug.


    I nudged her a bit as to why I appeared unhappy in the last couple of photos. She told me that sometimes as a child, there were days where I didn''t seem to have my "spark," as she put it. It was never of much concern to her; Kids can be quite moody. Once more, this left me slightly confused, because, for the most part, I recall having been a pretty happy kid. Still, it isn''t abnormal for us to forget certain things, especially when they happened years ago.


    At that point, she yawned and headed to bed. She''s got quite a busy work week, so I didn''t prod any further. I can''t imagine the stress she must endure as a single mother. Following in her footsteps, I made my way to my bedroom and laid down on the bed. Extending my hand out to the right, I snatched up the DS sitting on my nightstand. After a long day of work and school, I figured I would treat myself to some more nostalgia.


    In truth, I wanted to explore my world in "Township: Village!" a bit more. So, as I witnessed the faint glow of the DS screen, I spam clicked my way through the main menu and hastily opened the application. The typical intro played, and I selected my last save file, where I resumed my journey. Traveling down the dirt road to the edge of town, I decided to exit the area and explore the rest of the world. My character made his way past the perimeter of the town, following the path which continuously stretched across the screen.


    Deciding to turn the volume up a bit, I took in the various sounds in the game. The birds chirped softly in the background, and the wind blew quietly throughout the area. I nodded my head to the tune of a gentle melody provided by the game''s soundtrack. That''s when I noticed it. Not only could I hear my footsteps, but footsteps that marched in a pattern that was incongruent with my own. I stopped walking, and the second pair of footsteps ceased shortly after. Turning around and approaching the origin of the strange noise, I was met with the image of Mr. O, standing perfectly still. He didn''t speak a word to me. He simply gazed upon my character, never blinking, not once glancing away.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Mr. O would continue following me down the trail. Upon reaching a clearing, I noticed a tree standing in the distance, a tire bound to one of its branches with a rope. Beyond that was the school I remembered attending. The yard and blacktop in front of it were empty. I discovered that the same could be said of the corridors as I entered the school, wandering through its hallways. Most of the classrooms were non-descript. A few that I entered had been titled with the names of teachers I remember having. "Ms. Martin''s Room" contained a row of seats in front of a big whiteboard. "Mr. Adam''s Room" had a large, multi-colored rug in the center, where backpacks and notebooks were lazily strewn about.


    I really did spend an inordinate amount of time on this game. Not only had I built a town with several houses, but a replica of my school too. Well, as close to a replica as my young mind could create. I was no architect, so the school was depicted inaccurately. As I left the classroom, I heard the second pair of footsteps trailing me once more. I suppose this Mr. O model was a companion character of sorts? I''ll have to find a way to make him stop following me, it''s beginning to become bothersome.


    I explored the gymnasium, where two basketball hoops stood opposite each other. Memories of me dashing around on the court, trying to score against my classmates came flooding back. Then, I explored the cafeteria, where not-so-grand memories of my tray being filled with slop put a damper on my mood. Towards the end of the hall stood an unmarked classroom. Entering it, I found that it contained a single desk in the middle of the room. There was a piece of paper sitting on the desk, serving as a name tag.


    "Jeremy L."


    Why exactly was my desk here? There was nothing else in the room, and the room itself wasn''t named after a former teacher of mine. I walked back to the door, ready to leave. Only, I couldn''t. The door was locked from the outside. I tried opening it multiple times but to no avail. The only other exit appeared to be another door on the opposite end of where I stood.


    When I walked through it, I found myself standing in one of those in-classroom restrooms. I wasn''t alone. He stood there, towering over my character as always. That same grin was still plastered on his face, and his eyes never stopped tracking my movements. I wasn''t sure how I was going to leave the classroom. When I tried exiting the bathroom, I found that the door wouldn''t budge. It had been locked shut from the outside as well. I turned, facing the tall man standing before me. Approaching him, I clicked on his character, causing the screen to fade to black.


    When the screen regained its color and I was re-introduced to my surroundings, Mr. O was gone and the bathroom door was left wide open. All that remained was a bag sitting on the bathroom sink. Opening it, I found a note inside, accompanied by a cookie.


    "Thank you, Jeremy. Remember, Mister. O loves you."