I was simply sitting on my bed watching a stupid article about the president's new haircut. Please, don't ask me why... I just happened to click on it.

Okay. Truth is, there were way too many articles about how things are going so wrong in the world and it was the only one that did not have me to engage into thinking or triggered anxiety. Everybody said the world has gone crazy, but I always thought it has always been the case. Nowadays we do not sacrifice young virgins to vulcans for the sake of a nation's survival. At least not publicly. And seriously, carestees and epidemics are commons events in human history. It's just human beings who forget too easily. If the world can go crazy, then it went crazy from the beginning.

Whatever... So, I was doing that thing and something happened and now I'm here. I was always told I never pay enough attention to what happens around me, but this time it wouldn't have changed anything to what happened. That's because I'm now in a real crazy world with a self-proclaimed time-traveler running away from a bunch of blood-thirsty savages in the middle of a storm.

But let's get back to the beginning... Global warming - or how the smartest creature ever created by the Creator thought ahead of itself but ended up paying the consequences - is driving the weather nuts. And while we didn't have a proper winter this year, spring decided to bring the big show. That's why, instead of simple rainclouds passing-by to shower us with nanoparticles we'd been spraying in the air, we had a good cold hail with lots of thunder and what comes with it.

I was in the middle of Mr. President's cupcake haircut analysis when electricity went out and hail started hitting the windows glasses a bit violently. As if it wasn't enough, my smarthone battery died, so I simply put my smartphone in my pocket and ran to close the windows around the house. Nobody was home, and that was perhaps why the space felt so scaringly huge. I tried to hurry to get under the blanket as soon as possible, but then I remembered that our poor German Shepherd was still outside. I called him out to bring him in but Bingo - just to make things right, I'm not the one who chose the name - was curled up in his dog house and seemed to have no intention of crossing the ten meters that separated him from the the house entrance. I remained another minute under the porch hoping he would change his mind, but a big piece of hail on the forehead was enough for me to change my mind and go back inside.

That's what I should have done...

Bingo barked in a way that made my stomach shiver in distress. There was something wrong, and thunderbolt and lightening were getting closer. I decided to muster up the tiny bit of courage I left for critical moments, and I ran to the doghouse. Then, there was a flash of bolt. Then nothing.

When I woke up, what should have been a mushy soil of mud and grass was replaced by hard cold tiles I later recognized as being the ones in the living-room. The only source of light was the one coming from outside the window, and it wasn't enough to see the room clearly. On top of that, my sight was blurry and I had a terrible headache that was making me want to to close my eyes again and go back to sleep.

Some of you may say: "Man! Don't sleep on the floor, or you'll get a cold." The thing is, when you know you fainted OUTSIDE, and you find yourself INSIDE, and you have no idea of what happened from the moment you were OUTSIDE to when you got INSIDE, you prefer thinking it was only a dream and that if you slept in your dream you would wake up. That's technically how it works for me. Except for this time. And guess what? You wouldn't even have needed to tell me I shouldn't sleep on the floor because someone else already did. This weird guy named Lucius Septi-something just appeared out of the blue and said it... "Hey young man, you shouldn't sleep on the floor, you might catch a cold."

It was too dark for me to see that he was not an ordinary man, and I was too irritated about the whole situation so the only I wanted to do was to tell him: "Well man, you shouldn't break into other people's house, you could be mistaken for a burglar", but before I could actually say anything, he grabbed me from the elbow and made me stand straight.

"I see you are still in one piece. That's good. I am glad I have found a travel companion in these hard times. Well, we shouldn't delay our stay here any longer. I think that those descendents of Attila are getting close. Grab anything useful and put them in these oddly colored bags... Oh, this one seems good. It looks small but I think it can carry a lot. It has so many pockets! What do you think?"

The man was thoroughly examining one of my sisters' old handbags as if it was one of the greatest inventions of humanity. I should have listened more carefully to what he had said, but the only thing I had on my mind was that this man was not only a burglar, but he was also a liar and very probably a pervert. This is why I left him mumbling alone about all the interesting things there were around the house and went to grab a copper tea-pot that my mom put on the bookshelf as a decoration item to knock him off.

I saw people getting knocked off in movies plenty of times, so I knew I had to hit the neck but then I thought I might break it or simply don't get the right angle and not knocking him off - which would have resulted into a bigger issue. Either way, becoming a murderer wasn't part of my plans although I still had no idea of what to do once I graduate from highschool, but I couldn't give him the pretext to kill me either. I stood there with this piece of handcraft in my hands, pondering my choices, and of course he happened to turn around and tell me that it was to burdensome to take with us.

I wanted to dig my own grave and disappear from the surface of the Earth.

A total stranger was going through my family things like he owned the house, and there I was, standing like an idiot in the middle of the living-room with a teapot in the hands. Great. Just great. And you know what's the worst part? I was terrorized. His words didn't mean any harm, yet it had been enough to froze me in fear because he SAW ME. Survival instincts should have been arisen by then, but the coward part of me was looking for excuses like: "What if I'm getting it wrong?", "Maybe he's a good person", "I should call the social services", that kind of stuff...

Then the rational part finally took over my emotions and I decided I would simply call the police and let them handle the matter while I snuck out discreetly.

The weird man went to the rooms upstairs, which gave me plenty of time to do what I planned. I stretched my hand to reach the phone, but instead of meeting the regular bip of the line, a never-ending crunch filled my ears, and panic overwhelmed me.

I groped my pockets and I couldn't find the smartphone. I started throwing away the pillows clustered on the couch and franctically moving away everything that was big enough to hide that small piece of device.

Unsuccessfully.

In a corner of my subconscious, the oddities were piling up, and what I didn't want to accept as being the truth was sneakily making its way towards me. The man was already back, but I didn't care anymore. I was turning around like a wild beast in a cage, desperately searching that black rectangle as if my life depended on it.

I don't remember clearly how things went after that. I only know that his firm grips on my arms had somehow calmed me down. He then threw two bags at me, swung the door open and shouted: "Run!"

An arrow on fire broke through the window and that's how I realized the world I knew so far wasn't the same anymore. The world went crazy for real.