“Why is it so bright in here?,” she thought. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the intensity of the sun’s rays on her face. Of course, in that moment, she had no idea that the light in question was emanating from the sun… after all, she was in her bed. As she slowly turned and reached over to switch off the overhead light, her body went tumbling off of the side and landed with a somewhat loud and painful thud. “What the hell?!” She grimaced and yelped as her body was shocked into a state of full consciousness, and when the neurons in her brain finally connected, she opened her eyes. Slowly, at first, but then she noticed something quite odd; something which sent a jolt of adrenaline throughout her entire body, and her first thought was, “Wait – am I dreaming?”

But she wasn’t dreaming. And as she scanned her eyes around the park, and back up at the bench from which she had just fallen, she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. “How did I get here?!,” she thought to herself. “Where am I? And why am I wearing an old, tattered raincoat?” She was relieved to find that underneath the coat, she was still wearing her nightgown, but once the reality of her predicament set in, so did the fear. She surmised by the heat of the sun that it had to be sometime in the mid-morning, and yet the park was empty. Completely empty. There was not a soul in sight. And then, as all of her senses were heightened, she realized that, not only was the park empty – it was also silent. Eerily silent. No chirping of birds; no rustling of the leaves on the trees. Not even the whisper of the fluttering wings on a butterfly. It was as if her surroundings had been abandoned by all living forms of matter. And yet, there she was, sitting on the ground, trying to wrap her mind around what was transpiring. She had no idea where she was, how she had gotten there, or why, and as she slowly stood up to gather her thoughts, she heard something – felt something. A tiny whisper of wind coming from above her head. And as she looked up, she noticed something small sailing towards her. She couldn’t tell what it was until it landed squarely in the palm of her hand. She stared at the handwritten note. It contained four words – “Check the left pocket.” That is all. No signature, no date, and the handwriting was simple and clean. She wasn’t sure what to do.

She was still not fully convinced that what was happening was real, and assumed that at any moment, she would wake up, safe and sound in her loft, with her body pillow still snug between her arms and legs, so she waited. She closed her eyes and yelled, “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” The sound of her voice was deafening next to the silence of her surroundings, and as she opened her eyes once more, she knew that something strange and remarkable was happening, but she had no idea why, and no idea why she was chosen to be a part of it. She looked down at the note again, and slowly began to lower her left hand into the pocket of the tattered raincoat. She felt around the deep pocket until her hands stumbled upon what felt like another piece of paper. But when she pulled the paper out of the pocket and held it in her hand, she saw that it was, in fact, a photograph. But not just any photograph – it was a photograph of her. In the photograph, she was smiling at the camera and looked happy and content, and yet she had no recollection of ever posing for such a picture. She was confused and scared, and it was because of this that she failed to notice the date on the newspaper laying on the bench upon which she was sitting in the picture. But when she finally did, her eyes widened and the fear inside her exploded. The paper was dated three years into the future. Three years to the day that she had gone to bed, assuming she would awaken like all the days prior. And as she stared at the date, racking her brain for some form of rationalization, she heard someone call out her name. “Piper.” It was an unfamiliar voice, a whisper, yet not a threatening one, and she eagerly scanned her eyes around the park, searching for the source. “Piper.” There it was again! Who was calling her name, and from where? “Piper…”. The voice was louder now, and contained a sense of urgency that told her that responding to the voice, in question, would unravel a chain of events that would change everything. It would change her. It would change the world.