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Bonnie

Ireland

Sixteen, Irish, I love writing fiction and adventure stories. I'm very passionate about my writing, I want it as a career and it means a whole lot to me.

Message to Readers

Short intro to a longer story I thought up a while ago, doesn;t make a lot of sense but is a sort of origin story I guess cx

The Game Jumpers

May 8, 2016

FREE WRITING

1

I bet you've never heard of me.
I bet you've never heard of Anthony Evans. Not a whisper, not a murmur, not a wisp of wind about his wherabouts. His family. His achievements...
That's because he doesn't exist.
I don't exist.
Not anymore.
Another thing I bet you've never heard of: The Game Jumpers. That's a whole fiasco nobody should have to know about. But we're here. We exist. You should know. Somebody should know...
No, a Game Jumper isn;t a cutesy sweater with a stupid 8-bit logo on it. Game Jumpers have nothing to do with video games. But, at the same time, they have everything to do with them. A lot of game programmers were Jumpers, or knew a Jumper, at one point. Maybe they were an Escort. But it stands true, a lot of them were. Retired, full of nightmares, they needed somewhere to take it all out..
It started when I was fourteen. Chubby. Nerdy. Good-ish grades, enough to keep me going, and a fascination with all things digital. Now, I wasn't all that big on Xboxes, Wii's, all the consoles...Computers were my business. I was a part-time hacker, thought I knew everything. I was internet-famous for my dry, witty humour and semi-handsome tweenage face. Girls loved the hipster glasses back then.
Things escalated, to say the least. At first I though they were cyber bullies. They were, in a sense. To this day, I haven't been told what they are. All I know is I was surfing online. Minecraft open in another tab, lukewarm fizzy drink propped between my legs in my beanbag, empty bowl of popcorn calling for me to make some more. And a chat popped up in a small window. I got this all the time- Girls asking to talk to me, guys asking about my hacking skills, the occasional 'hater'. I had a look. The message was one word.
'DIE'
...Needless to say, I was a little queasy. I exed the tab, an continued my gaming, not allowing it to bother me. Trolls never got to me. I heard the small pop a second time, and growled a little. If this dude was going to keep messaging me, I was just going to block him. I returned to the chat tab.
'DIE'
I rolled my eyes, and confirmed the block, closing the chat tab. That was enough of that for today. I resumed my game, when another noise caught my attention. A different chat box had popped up, on another website. Did...Did this website even HAVE chat? I shrugged, and checked it out.
'DIE'
'DIE'
'DIE'
'DIE'
It kept going like that. Every twenty seconds...Then every ten seconds...Then every five. I closed all of my live chat tabs, a growing feeling of unease in my chest, when I felt my phone go off in my pocket. Hand shaking, I took it out. A message. From a friend. A real life friend, not an internet friend. The same three letters. Die...
I opened my mouth, ready to scream, ready to call out for help. But then it all stopped. I frowned at my phone screen. It had frozen, the screen decorated with those three letters...Then it went black. My computer shut off. I reached over, and touched the power button, my hand shaking, to turn it back on.

Next thing I knew....I was here. Headquarters.

They didn't tell me much. Fourteen-Year-Old me had apparently been in a coma for about two weeks before he woke up. Something attacked me, they said. Something inhuman. Something not of this world. They told me they could throw me back, but...There was little to go back to. My parents had been killed by it. What 'it' was, they deemed classified. My parents were killed, that's all I needed to know. I could go back, if I wanted.
Or I could stay.
I didn't mourn for long. My mother was a crack head, and my dad wasn't much better. They gave me money for computer games, and pretty much left me alone. I did the same to them. I practically lived in the basement, and at the local library anyway, so I didn't have to deal with all of their steamy sex moans.

You're probably confused. What happened? I stayed. Went through training. Became a Game Jumper. What's a Game Jumper? Want me to put it simply? I save your life. Daily.
 

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