Deja Vu

They say that a man's childhood determines, to a large extent, how his life will be. That those tender years mold the kid into a shape that is immutable until death. But is man so weak that he can truly become a captive of his past? Would he use all the strength vested in him to empower that weakness?

"Deja Vu". Those were his last words. His eyes staring into empty space and his limp body lying in a pool of his own blood. But even the bullet wound in his chest had not prevented him from donning that wry smile. An odd smile, considering the events that had occurred. And from a corner of the room, the boy had watched the whole drama unveil right in front of his eyes.

It had all started with the loud thumping on the door. The boy, instinctively, had scurried to a corner where he thought he could avoid confronting the impending danger. His fear casting a shadow over him. His mind restlessly thinking about how lonely he really was. But then, the most bizarre of circumstances had occured. So bizarre, that it would scar him for life. Make him turn towards depression, hate and anger as refuge.

A man had appeared, from thin air, in that room. A weary man, as if with a purpose, yet seemingly lost. He had stood in front of the door, and looked at the boy huddled in the corner. His eyes vaguely reassuring the boy, giving a false sense of comfort. The next moment, the door had cracked open. The boy could not see the stranger at the door, but the man could. And from the look on the man's face, he knew that it had represented his worst fears. The stranger at the door had pulled the last shot from his shotgun, aiming at the man's heart. And then he had walked away, carrying no regret. The man had fallen to the floor, the fatal wound giving him his last few breaths to utter the words "Deja Vu"...

Actions do have consequences. But what if the consequence itself determined the course of the very action that caused it? What if life were a mobius strip, giving man the opportunity to 'fix' his past? Would it make any difference?

Thirty years later, the boy, now a man, stared at the mirror on the otherwise empty wall. He looked weary, his eyes had long lost the innocence he once had as a child. The innocence that had abandoned him for living so dreadful a life. He recounted, in his mind, the day that he could never forget, the brutality of the events that had occurred. But that didn't bother him so much anymore. No, it was the face that he now saw in the mirror that perturbed him. The face that made him want to turn away in disgust, but a face that also spoke the inevitable truth.

It was the same face that he had seen, as a kid, on the man who had mysteriously appeared in his room. He was the one who had given the false reassurance to the boy. He was the one had been shot in the chest. He was the one, now, who had to go back and 'fix' the very day that had ruined his own life.

He stared at the contraption in the center of the room. Once he stepped in, there would be no turning back. The device would give him the one chance at redemption. He nervously held the gun concealed in his pocket. That gun would give him the power to kill the stranger that had knocked on his door. He would destroy the one who had destroyed him. He would give the boy, a new hope, a new life.

He stepped into the machine and closed his eyes as he was taken back through the ages to that fateful day. The world fell into a deafening silence. Until he heard the loud thumping. He opened his eyes again to find himself in that room, with the boy huddled in the corner. He felt lost, looking at the situation he was now in. His heart now almost unsure if he had made the right choice. He gave a false reassuring smile to the boy. And then waited, as the door cracked open...

Perhaps, the only way to cherish a happy past, is to strive towards a happy future. Perhaps there is a reason we don't get to undo things that are already done. After all, life is nothing but a series of tests. Whether we pass or fail is not so much a physical reality as it is a state of mind.

The man could now see the stranger, the shot gun pointed right at his heart. But the feeling of impending death is not what disconcerted him. It was the face on the stranger. It was the same face he had seen in the mirror. It was his own face. And yet, it was a calm face. A face that was much stronger, wiser, and brighter.

The man now looked in horror as realization struck him. He had never had a chance at redemption. The stranger was there just to establish that. He had had the opportunity to change his life, but he had chosen the path to self destruction. It was he, who was responsible for everything that had happened to him. It was he, who had to be destroyed.

The stranger pulled the trigger on the shotgun aimed right at the man's chest. And then walked away. With no regret. The man collapsed on the floor. His entire life fleeting before his eyes. A wry smile crossed his face. He looked at the boy and said his last words...

"Deja Vu"