• I could see the soft, white snowflakes as they hit the car window. They drifted down slowly, like a soldier in a parachute. My Ma and I came from McDonalds and I was finishing my fries. I thought we were on our way home, but Ma pulled into a Comerica Bank parking lot.
    “I just need to get some money, hun. I pent all of it on your Kids Meal,” replied Ma.
    “Can I come with you?” I wanted to learn how to use an ATM. I always try to act more mature.
    “Sorry, but ten year olds are too young to use an ATM,” explained Ma. I hated being told I was too young.
    As I watched Ma rush to the machine, I saw a man starting a line behind her. This man wore a hooded sweatshirt with the hood protecting his head from the ice, cold, falling snow. He was bald; I could just barely see the top of his head from the car. A tattoo of a skull was placed on his right cheek, which made him even more eerie. As he walked to form a line behind Ma, I saw a gleam of light in his eye. His eyes were dark brown, almost black.
    Ma typed in her pin number and typed in some more numbers. Then money came out, I thought it was the best.
    A shine of light caught my eye. The man was concealing a knife in his hand behind his back. Light from the sun reflected off the shiny, metal blade. Ma dropped a bill and bent down to pick it up. The Man bent down as well. Their eyes met for a moment and The Man picked up the bill and gave it to Ma.
    “Here you go Ma’am,” said The Man in a tough, biker voice.
    Ma flashed him a smile and took the fifty from his blood-stained hand. Ma had a look of puzzlement on her face as she slowly observed The Man; slowly scanning his figure Ma raised her head up to his face to get a good look of this mysterious man.
    Then, The Man swiftly revealed the knife from behind his back. Cornering Ma into a wall, he thrusted his knife downward into Ma’s chest. I sobbed quiet in the car for what seemed like eternity. I didn’t want to watch, I almost vomited as I cried tears of sorrow and sadness. The Murderer took all of Ma’s money and her ATM card. When he was done confiscating her belongings, he dropped her like a doll…like she wasn’t even human. She fell into the thick, six-inch layer of snow like a barbell.
    I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. I retrieved our digital camera from the glove compartment and looked through the windshield. I pulled myself together and managed to take a snapshot of The Murderer pulling the weapon out of Ma’s chest-a picture no one should have to take. The blood dripped off the end of the blade, he pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped it clean. The blood dripped onto her icy, cold, face. Those pale, rosy, red cheeks were so young…yet gone so soon. As the blood ran down my mother’s cheek, I knew he would pay sooner or later for his sinful act of dread.
    I waited for The Murderer to leave the crime scene. When he did, I cried myself to sleep that night. My heart filled with pain, self-pity, and frustration. That night I dreamed of a man running down a dark, candlelit hallway. His speed kept getting faster and faster until he was stopped by a wall, dead-end. He turned around and I saw his scruffy beard, his dark charcoal hair, his figure. He looked up and put a pale finger to his lips as his eyes widened and turned blood shot. The candles on the wall went out after a gust of wind to devour the man in darkness.
    My eyes shot open in shock. Was this a sign of something will happen? I rushed out of the car and jogged a couple blocks to the police station downtown. My cheeks were smothered in tears of never ending sadness.
    I entered the station out of breath and drowned in emotions: sadness, anger, hatred. The station was almost empty except for three people. One officer was behind a desk putting important looking papers in a filing cabinet. His back was towards me so I just started talking and hoped he would take a break from his work to listen.
    “I just witnessed a murder down a couple blocks and I took a picture as proof,” I said in a rush.
    He froze, stopped doing his work, and slowly turned his head to look at me. My mouth gaped open as I saw the skull tattoo. One thing I really hated about New York was bad cops. They kept criminals out of jail. They sold/bought drugs and murder people for their money.
    I slipped the camera back into my jean pocket and darted out of the station. I kept running and I could see him chasing me out of the corner of my eye. I had no where to run, my hose was too far. As sweat ran own my forehead, I turned down an ally way…a dead end. Behind me was a door which I turned the door knob back and forth furiously-but no luck, it was locked. The Impostor was at the other end of the ally way, blocking my escape. Fear and panic surged through my body, making me just stand there thanks to adrenaline.
    I didn’t want to die, no one does. There were still so many things I wanted to do: get married, learn to drive, climb a mountain, and visit unique countries. Making this mental list motivated me to take action. I curled my hands into fists and pounded on the door as hard as I could. The Impostor was coming closer with a slight grin on his face. He seemed to be taking his time-sadistic, torture, helplessness. No words can describe my situation.
    The Impostor stalking towards me now had his knife in his hand. I continued to yell and pound on the locked door until The Impostor was no farther than a foot in front of me. I panicked and I just wanted to go home. Until I realized I couldn’t anymore.
    This fact struck me like getting punched in the face by someone twice as strong as you-hard and painful. I pounded and yelled some more as The Imposter began to raise the knife in the air. I shut my eyes, knowing this would be the end…of me. I heard a door open, I felt a hand grab my arm and pull me, I saw nothing. I opened my eyes to find my self in a small, abandoned room. It had eight computers spread out from each other and a tall structure with a bed sheet concealing its identity. This room had power tools all over the floor and old issues of National Geographic on a coffee table. The floor looked like a grave yard for candy bar wrappers and had the stench of someone who hasn’t bated in a while.
    I saw a man-the man in my dream. He was tall, had a beard that made him look like Santa Clause, and he was bald. Wow, I was saved by a hobo-I thought to myself.
    “Thank you,” I said in a complete loss of words.
    “What’s your name?” I asked
    “What is a name but a title we are given to represent us? We are the same in many ways and different in many ways. I don’t need a name to tell me that,” was his reply in a low voice.
    I usually hate people who speak in riddles, but this guy was an exception-he did save my life after-all. He paced for a while, I didn’t know if he was bored or just thinking.
    Then he turned to me and said “Have you seen the movie ‘Donnie Darko’?”
    “No”
    “Have you seen the movie ‘The time Machine’?”
    “No”
    “Have you seen the movie ‘Back to the Future?!”
    “Yep,” I replied, not knowing where he was getting at.
    “Don’t you ever wish you could just redo and change one moment of your life?”
    I thought about the recent events fate has given me. I nodded my head yes. I didn’t know what to call this man. I named him M&M because it was an acronym for mystery man and I love the candy.
    M&M smiled and stared at me, which creaped me out a bit. He bent down to my height and whispered “let me show you something”. He went to the structure at the end of the room and threw of the sheet like a magician throws off a table cloth without moving its contents. Underneath the sheet was a…phone booth. I looked at it more closely and at different angles to ensure myself I wasn’t seeing things. I opened my mouth to ask one question after another but he already began to explain: “I work as an inventor in this ‘secret lab’. I just added the finishing touches on what I hope is a time machine. I said ‘hope’ because I don’t know if it works. I need someone to test it for me. I don’t want to do it myself because if I explode or something, then there will be one less inventor in the world. That is not a good thing because the future is coming! Would you like to test it?”
    I cracked up. I laughed so hard my eyes were watering.
    “You really expect me to believe this can take me anywhere I want? I laughed
    “Not where, but when,” M&M corrected.
    “If I do test your ‘time machine’ what would be my reward for being your guinea pig,” I asked. Well, if it works, you’ll have the privilege to relive a moment in history. I it fails, you can say you told an inventor ‘I told you so” and was right”, M&M explained.
    So, I opened the glass door of the phone booth and stepped in. There was a pay-phone and not much else out of the ordinary.
    “How does this work?” I asked M&M through the glass door.
    “Just type in the date and time with the number-pad and push the little blue button”, explained M&M.
    I don’t know how I could have missed it. The button was dark blue and as small as my pinky. I slowly dialed 12-4-2002-7-10. I waited for at least two minutes…nothing.
    “I told you so,” I laughed.
    But right then, everything was spinning. I was starting to feel noucous. My world was spinning and it was making me dizzy. I could see M&M waving to me, him spinning as if I was on a carousel. As everything spun faster and faster I knelt down to hurl. My mouth tasted dry and I was getting tired. My world was a blur now. Was this all a dream? Will I open my eyes and wake up n my bed, greeted by Ma? I shut my eyes tight and opened them…nothing. Was I hallucinating? I was starting to panic…then, darkness. Every thing was pitch black. Then my environment reappeared with Ma and me in the bank parking lot. I couldn’t believe any of this. I was in as much shock as a kid realizing he’s adopted.
    Ma waved her hand in front of my face.
    “You were zoning out, hun,” she said.
    “Yeah, I guess I was,” I said dumbstruck.
    “I just need to get some money, hun. I spent it all on you kids meal,” she explained, seeming oddly familiar.
    “Can you leave the car on? I want to listen to the radio” I asked as Ma began to leave the car.
    “Um, sure,” she replied and turned the car on again.
    Ma walked to the ATM and The Impostor came behind her. I knew exactly what I had to do. I unbuckled my seat belt and hopped into the driver seat. I buckled my seat belt, tightened it, and took a deep breath. The Impostor was picking up Ma’s money; I knew the time was right. As I saw him lash out the knife, I floored the gas pedal. The Grand AM went over the sidewalk and The Impostor side stepped against the wall.
    I turned the wheel about forty degrees and stepped on the gas. The car crushed him against the wall, right into his stomach. I escaped from the car to inspect my revenge. It was too gruesome. I put my hand over my mouth and gasped as I saw The Deceased’s body over the hood of the car. The wall and car was blood stained and looked like the after-math of a cop-gang shoot-out.
    That day I realized it takes a lot to kill another human being and let’s just say I had only a little. To actually end someone’s life and make their presence no more...is just soulless.
    Ma walked around the car to meet me. Before she even opened her mouth I showed her the picture of The Deceased pulling the knife out of her once dead body on my digital camera. Her eyes widened with shock and I filled her in on what happened.
    On my way past the bank, I kicked The Deceased’s hand, the palm turned over-which was holding the knife. I pocketed this knife, spat on his face, and swore at him. Ma and I then ran to the alley way with the door. Even from the outside it smelt bad. I knocked and M&M answered.
    He looked like he had just got out of bed. I guess hobos take late naps.
    “Did I wake you?” I asked.
    “Yes, you did. But it’s okay. I was going to wake up in was going to wake up in a couple minutes any way,” M&M said.
    An alarm clock rang and made me jump.
    “See?” He asked.
    “Who are you?” M&M asked me.
    “Can we come in?” I asked.
    He opened the door and gestured for us to enter. We did and I explained to him how we wee from the future and I used his machine to save Ma.
    “Hmm…I see,” he said as I saw him reach for something in his jean pocket.
    As he paced in a circle, I saw he was concealing a knife.
    “Err. What are you doing?” I asked, scared out of my mind.
    He went to the phone booth and threw off the sheet. He pointed to it and stared at it.
    “This! This can not be used by anyone. Don’t you see? If this gets into the wrong hands, history would be rewritten,” he explained.
    He was freaking me out. Veins were bulging from his neck; his eyes widened and were turning blood shot.
    “Then why did you make it and have me test it?” I asked.
    “Haven’t you ever done something-just once-just to see if it can be done? To prove it could be done. Even though its not the right thing to do, but to solve a mystery. To do something no one else has. For the glory!” he screamed at us.
    There was a long silent pause.
    “That is why I have to make sure you won’t tell anyone else about your little adventure!” he explained.
    M&M hen lunged towards me holding both a knife and determination. I dodged his knife and dove into the open door of the phone booth. I held the door shut with my back as he attempted to barge in. I quickly punched in the numbers 12-4-2002-8-00.
    My world was spinning and I felt that familiar dizzy sensation. M&M came in the booth and lunged at me a final time. Before the knife hit my chest, he vanished and my world turned black.
    Then it reappeared with me in the street, before I went to the police office. I ran to the ally way, picked up a stick from an above tree. The stick was about as tall as me. I knocked o M&M’s door, when he answered I barged through and went straight to the booth. I threw off the sheet and struck it several times.
    “What do you think your doing?” he asked, with fear in his voice.
    “I am destroying something that does nothing but destroy other peoples lives…and why does it matter, it’s only a phone booth,” I said smiling.
    I then realized the stick did no damage to this indestructible machine. I set the stick on the floor and picked up a book of matched from a near-by table. I lit several and threw them in. The booth was now a several foot tall bonfire. I waved bye, walked away to the street with a raging fire behind me, feeling like Steven Segal or some other action movie star. M&M sat on the floor-head in his hands and dumbstruck. Stop one out of two…check.
    I headed up the street to the police station and saw The Impostor doing a cross word puzzle at the front desk.
    “May I help you?” he asked.
    “Yes you can. You can go to Hell!” I shouted at him as I thrusted the knife I took from him into his heart. I stabbed at him repeatedly to make sure his heart didn’t beat again. I stabbed with the anger of a legless Ethiopian watching a donut roll down a hill. With a final thrust I set the knife on his desk, got out my digital camera, and went to the picture of ^he Impostor pulling the knife out of Ma. I selected the photo so it was on the display screen and set the camera next to the knife. I wiped my blood-stained hands on m jeans and pulled the hood on my jacket over my head as I stalked into the darkness of the night.