Walking for hours in the wilderness from a place he was not sure of and how long he had been there. Isolated, his only recognition, the tattoo on his arm, it said, “Question Reality” under a huge open eye.

“Why am I here?” Walking and stumbling he saw a town. The noises from there filled his concentration as he picked up speed to get there.

Running on the road his fixation on getting to the town almost caused him to be run over by an SUV, it swerved and then stopped. “Why are you running in the middle of the road, you’ll get killed.” The driver yelled.  He couldn’t speak his attention had been totally taken by two kids sitting in the back scribbling on sheets of paper.

The mother noticed his attention on the kids and became nervous. The little girl threw a drawing out the window as her mother sped off.  He picked it up. It was red, horizontal vertical lines haphazard and concentrated in the centre then spread vertical and horizontal again.

He folded the drawing and headed to the source of the noise, children were running everywhere. It was a preschool, he was ignored as he walked up the path to the outside of the building, there to his amazement were at least fifty drawings, like his, stuck to the windows.

What is this? These drawings are all the same? What strange power is driving all these kids to draw the same haphazard lines crossing left and right horizontal vertical. He looked at his tattoo “Question Reality.” His mind went into a frenzy of commotion, all these kids are being manipulated, I have to save them he thought.

There in front of him he could see kids engrossed in their task of drawing these frenzied lines. His memory started to flicker back like a broken film, there in the wilderness under a bright menacing light! He remembered a voice in his head, be calm.

He couldn’t be calm now, while all the children were under some disastrous form of mind control! He saw parents clutching their kids and their bizarre drawings as if they were trophies. I have to save them he though. He ran back to the class with all the drawings on the windows. Memories flooded back, he was laying in a foggy field as the light  floated heavenward. The scribbles of the light that filtered through the pines filled him with fear.

The window shattered as the first rock  removed the glass and the drawings attached to it. “I’ll save you,” he yelled as he smashed another window. Children were screaming in fear as the third window shattered. “I must save them, this scribble is a warning!”

“Halt Police!” He turned put his hand in his pocket to pull the saved drawing to show the cop. Bang! He was shot. Falling to the ground the last thing he saw was a crumpled blood splattered kids scribble and his tattoo, “Question Reality.”