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Unforeseen Arts 


Igor Zaitsev always knew that he was someone special. Ever since he was born, he was always one step ahead of boys his ages. He learned to read and write at a young age and managed to get into high school when he was ten years old. Igor graduated with flying colours and was on his way to becoming a doctor at one of the most prestigious universities in the world; Princeton.

His parents emigrated from Chernobyl, Ukraine and raised him on American soil. Igor’s dad heavily influenced him and instead of reading nutsy bedtime rhymes to his son, he would read a multiplication times table. Both of his parents’ labour was not fruitless and they were proud of their son. Already in his second year, Igor aimed to be the top of his class.

One day, during his psychology class in the auditorium, in the front row, he noticed something strange out of the corner of his eye. A hooded dark figure was sitting three rows above him. It seemed to salute him. Igor blinked and it disappeared.

“Must be that coffee I drank this morning,” he thought.

Igor tried to brush this thought aside, but during the next class, the same shady figure was there, two rows above him and glaring intensely at him. He blinked again and again it vanished. The out of this world phenomenon happening right before Igor’s eyes intrigued him, yet he could not stop his goosebumps from rising on his skin.

“What does he want from me? What is he?” Igor thought.

Later that night, he consulted his family and friends about the weird spectacle. They all reassured him that it was nothing.

“You, afraid of a ghost?” joked his father, “Come on, Princeton undergrad, you’re going to have to be more logical than that to get your Bachelor’s!”

“Ha ha, very funny,” skulked Igor, “But I cannot rub off the feeling something bad is going to happen. It is like an omen of some kind,”

“There is nothing stronger in this world than pure logic, my son. Follow its rules, and you shall be freed.”

His father’s words succeeded in calming him down enough to sleep.

On the third day, Igor saw the person again, but now closer, two rows from Igor. Panicking, he hurriedly packed his belongings and left. Outside the door, the black hooded figure was waiting for him.

“Hello Igor,” said the man.

Flabbergasted, the student tried to run away from that which he could not explain: instant teleportation and a force which was holding him back from escaping.

“Please, listen to me, Igor,” yelled the man. “I am your father from the future.”

“How can that be?” babbled his son.

“That is not important right now. I must bestow you a very important mission. If you do not accomplish it, humanity will perish.”

Out from an inner jacket pocket, the man took out a silenced revolver and placed it in Igor’s trembling hands.

“But why call upon me, of all people? I am just a nerdy bookworm!”

“Because you are my son. This is your mission: kill a women who is currently at the general hospital in the room C-158. You, and mankind depend on it.”

The mysterious figure disappeared once more into the night. Igor was freed from his invisible restrictions, but was now torn apart by two choices: to kill or not to kill. He thought that killing one person to save eight billion others would be the rational, right choice. Some innocent blood has to be shed to save the majority. Gripping the gun with white knuckles, Igor set off to complete his resolute.

At the hospital, the patient in C-158 was enveloped completely from head to toe in blinding white hospital bandages. It seemed as if she was to stay for a long time within the confines of the bleak walls and the continuous beep, which some wished would stop. When Igor entered the room around midnight, two little black dots appeared on the mummy. The eyes started to frantically move when the gun was taken out.

“I am doing this for mankind, please understand”, said Igor.

The person’s eyes widened with implore as she stared down the tunnel of despair. They did seem a bit familiar to Igor, but he rubbed aside this thought as putting it out of its misery would be better. A small ploc echoed in the room. A stream of blood making its way down the bridge of the nose between two white eyes was the last thing Igor saw before leaving. He was relieved he had accomplished his deed as he headed home. Driving on the highway, he turned on the radio to calm down.

“In recent news, there was a car crash this morning on highway 20. It has been reported that one is without a scratch while the other was in critical condition. Doctors stated at around eleven o clock this evening that she is in a stable state. Zaitsev is her family name.”


“Sir, there is an emergency in chamber nine,”

“What now?”

“The person is banging his head repeatedly on the wall and screaming nonsense about how he saw the future.”

“Alright, send the medical team up and sedate him before he starts hurting himself even more, and attempts to commit murder again.”

Written By: Charlie Tang

Originally Published: December 2015

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