A Modern Regressor

A young man, around fifteen years old, was walking slowly under the late afternoon sun, the last rays of the day casting long shadows on the ground. It was one of those days where time seems to stretch, where everything around him felt calm and peaceful. The air was fresh, but there was still the warmth of the afternoon, as if the sun hesitated to set. He walked slowly, almost as if savoring every step, soaking in the tranquility of the moment. The world around him was still, except for the rustling of the leaves in the trees and the occasional chirping of a bird settling for the night.

His mind, however, was far from still. He was a quiet boy, often lost in his thoughts, and today was no exception. The world around him seemed distant, almost as if it belonged to someone else. He had a way of looking at life from the outside, detached, observing the world as though he didn't truly belong to it. His brown eyes scanned the ground as he walked, a nervous habit, always avoiding eye contact with strangers. He was shy, awkward, and always seemed a little apart from others. Even though he was just a high school student like everyone else, he often felt like an outsider, as if there was something different about him, something he couldn't express in words.

It was just another day like any other. The usual routine of going to school, sitting in class, and pretending to care about the lessons was exhausting. He wasn't particularly good at making friends, nor did he feel the need to. He preferred to be alone, sitting by himself during lunch, reading a book, or staring out the window. He wasn't lonely—not in the way most people understood it—but he felt a silent emptiness within him. A longing for something he couldn't define. Something that wasn't just about the people around him but about himself. He had always been a little… fearful.

Afraid, yes. He didn't like to admit it, but he was. His stomach was often in knots, a low hum of anxiety following him everywhere. It wasn't that he was terrified of everything, but there were moments—brief moments—that could send him spiraling into unease. The sound of footsteps behind him in the street, the feeling of being watched from a distance, the sudden shift in the weather that made the air feel too heavy to breathe—these things could sometimes be hard to handle. And yet, he had learned to push through, to smile, nod, and pretend to be like everyone else. It was his way of coping. The world could be a scary place when you felt so small in it, and he often wondered how others didn't seem to notice the weight it placed on him.

Today, however, something had changed. It wasn't easy to explain—just a feeling that something was wrong, that something was about to happen. It wasn't the usual apprehension he felt before walking into a crowded room or the tightness in his chest when seeing people laughing and chatting with their friends. No, it was something else. It was as if the air itself had changed, as if the world around him had subtly shifted. He couldn't shake the feeling that the world was about to tilt, and he would be swept up in the consequences.

But he couldn't quite place it. So, as always, he decided to keep walking. He told himself to relax, to breathe, and not to worry about things that hadn't happened yet. His steps moved steadily down the street, past the row of houses and the small corner shop that had been there since his childhood. It was a street he knew well, a street that felt familiar and safe. The sun was beginning to set, casting a soft golden glow over everything, and the first few stars were appearing in the sky. It was a beautiful evening, and for a moment, he forgot about his fears and allowed himself to simply enjoy the calm.

As he approached the entrance to his alley, the one that led to the narrow path that would take him to his apartment, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu. He had walked this path countless times before, but tonight, it felt different. There was an eerie silence in the air, as if the world had stopped moving. Even the wind had calmed, leaving only the sound of his footsteps echoing in the stillness.

He reached the entrance to the alley and slowed down, his feet dragging slightly. He had always been hesitant to go home. It wasn't that he didn't like where he lived; it was just that his apartment, with its bare walls and empty rooms, felt like a reflection of him. It was quiet—too quiet. His parents were never there, always caught up in their own lives. He had grown used to the solitude, but that didn't mean he liked it. Sometimes, he wished someone would be there, to fill the silence, even if just for a little while. But of course, that wasn't the way things were. He had learned to live with it.

Just as he entered the alley, a sharp, loud, and sudden noise cut through the air. It was a car, speeding toward him, too fast to be a normal vehicle. The headlights flashed, blinding him for a moment, and then, before he could think, it was on top of him. His heart raced in his chest, panic rising in his throat. He didn't have time to move, to step aside, or even to think. The car swerved, its tires screeching against the pavement, and in an instant, it hit him.

The world spun wildly as his body was thrown into the air. The sharp pain that shot through his chest was unlike anything he had ever felt, a searing agony that seemed to freeze time for a moment. He felt himself plummeting, helpless, weightless, as if the universe itself had let go of him. In those final moments, there was no room for fear, no room for regret. His mind, for the briefest of seconds, was completely empty.

And then, everything went dark.

His body crashed to the ground, limp and broken. The world around him had stopped, and in that silence, only his last breath remained—a soft, ragged exhale that seemed to drift into the air and disappear, leaving nothing behind but emptiness.

***

This is a new story. Feel free to give me any advice on it, no matter what—it would help me a lot!

Thank you for reading this chapter!