One moment I was on my way to work, the next I'm being stabbed by a five foot pole. Why does life hate me so much? Then the next thing I know is that I'm suddenly alive (not dead, mind you) and standing near a college at the beginning of the Revolut...
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April 13, 2017
New York, NY
Life sucks! I tell you, one minute I'm driving to work at the National History Museum in New York and the next thing I know a car comes from out of nowhere and I'm sent flying with the car. Everything's spinning; I felt like I was going to vomit what I ate this morning. The car finally stopped spinning and landed upside down on top of a pole that was protruding through my stomach. Gah I can't believe I died like that, although I had always wanted to die in style. It hurt but I could feel my life slowly fading away into nothingness. Suddenly everything went black. I'm positive right there that I had died. I mean really who lives from being impaled by a five-foot pole.
April 13, 1775
The next thing that happens shocks me to the core. I'm suddenly standing, alive; next to a building that I presume to be a university. Students are milling about but instead of wearing modern clothes it's like I was sucked into one of those revolutionary and civil war movies. Someone eyes me from across the courtyard, I raise my hand and wave at him. I guess he takes it as an invitation to approach me because he strides over.
As he strides over I take my time to observe his features. He has long, flowing russet coloured hair that frames his face quite nicely, blue eyes that seemed to show all the information in the world, a cultivated jaw and nice pink lips. Moving down his body I noticed that he has a very toned body (not six pack toned but toned), writers' fingers long and calloused and long legs covered by brown slacks.
He stops in front of me but I'm still staring at his beautiful features. He clears his throat a couple of times to bring me out of my stupor. I look up at him and smile one of those goofy smiles. He looks surprised for a moment before it's gone and replaced by a small smile. The man holds out his hand for me to shake. I tilt my head, then gradually put my hand in his.
"Alexander. Alexander Hamilton. What's yours?"
I tilt my head towards the other direction. "This man couldn't be Hamilton. That's not possible. Alexander Hamilton has been dead for 300 something years." I didn't realize that I had said all of that out loud.
"I can tell you for a fact that I haven't been dead much less alive for 300 something years. I am only nineteen years old after all." the young man states matter-of-factly.
I glare at him with all the intensity that I could muster and state just as blunt as he had, "Yes I can see that, you dick."
The so called 'Hamilton' starts laughing, hands over his stomach and curled up. He continues for a few more minutes; starting to become agitated I raise a brow at his laughter.
