65 Frames Per Second

The year is 2011, and I'm lying with my back in the sand, tracing constellations with my fingertips. I can feel myself suspended between everything I've ever known and everything I have yet to experience. It's my senior trip, and I'm acutely aware that nothing will ever be the same again.

Suddenly, a pop splits the air. Followed by a scream that vibrates through my skin and pulls me back down to earth. A recent graduate folds into the sand, limp as a rag doll.

The air thickens and my vision seems to slow to 65 frames per second as I register that there is a war erupting around me.

We are under attack.

Before I can fully grasp what’s happening, my legs are propelling me away from the crashing waves, towards the hotel, my sight narrowing in on the illusion of safety.

Disoriented. The air like molasses. What is happening?

Sensory latency is the time it takes for an electrical impulse to travel from a point of stimulation on a sensory nerve to a recording electrode. Mine is delayed.

Inches from the hotel I glance back. I see the familiar long blonde hair of my best friend buried under a mass of five men, their fists show no mercy.

I run back into the war zone.

The memories from that night are scattered, and dulled by time, but I remember seeing myself from above, like my mind had been pulled out of my body. Like I was wittnessing, instead of living.

My arms are extended, reaching towards the girl I’d spent 28 seasons making countless memories with. Theres a reality where I was able to grab her hands and pull her to safety... but in this one, I see the glint of a bottle and the weighted force behind it hurtling towards my head.

Then, everything goes black.

There is no time or space. Just darkness.