The Omniscrolls

I struggled to maintain friendships as a child since we were constantly moving from city to city and town to town. Some years, it would be only a couple of times, but in others, it would be even four to five times. I was still in middle school when I started to suspect that something was wrong with my parents; I wondered if they were on the run from the law, and even asked them about it. Mom and Dad said they were shocked that I even suspected such a thing, but I could see in their faces that they were hiding something from me. As the years passed, I became numb to the routine, but once I met someone who became a close friend more than anyone else ever had, and I had to leave her behind as well, I decided it was time for me to investigate my parents. Whenever they were occupied, I went through their phones and laptops, but I found nothing outside work documents and other general topics. Neither of them had social media, and they had strict rules about my having social media as well. I ...

My life changed when I was just twelve years old. I was woken up in the middle of the night by my parents’ screams. The screaming prevailed only for a few seconds; I rushed out of my room to see how my parents were doing when I heard my twin baby brothers crying as well. Instead of checking on my parents, I went to my brothers’ cribs to console them, and while talking to them to get them to smile, a woman stepped into the room. She wore a hood, and had gloves on. I stood in front of my brothers, even though my entire body began to tremble. “I won’t let you hurt them,” I said. The woman sighed and gave a faint smile. “I’m no child-killer, unlike your parents. You’ve got heart, Lia. I hope you grow up to be a good citizen, not be part of a global organisation hell-bent on propagating terrorism and racial supremacy." The woman turned to leave, but paused to say one last thing before disappearing into the shadows. “I’m sorry about your parents, but I had no other choice. There are too...

For as long as we’ve lived here on top of this hill, only one other house stood nearby; and it stood still in time, abandoned and alone for the thirteen years I’ve been alive. Whenever I’d ask Mom and Dad about it, they would simply say it had been that way for as long as they could remember. Their responses were often rushed, and dismissive of further inquiry. My experience questioning neighbours about the strange house was similarly strange, although they seemed more afraid than reluctant. “Stay away from that place… Especially you. That house is bewitched.” That is the most I got from Anna, the oldest lady in our neighbourhood. Her statement made me wonder just what had happened there. “Why me especially?” I wished Mom and Dad would open up to me about it, but they dodged my questions each time. One night, I stared away into the distance, looking at that abandoned house for perhaps an hour, when, suddenly, I noticed a light illuminate a room on the upper floor. It wasn’t something I...

Collecting antiques was my passion. From a young age, I was enthralled by the furniture and trinkets my grandparents showed me. These priceless items were much older than them, passed down from their grandparents and so on. My grandparents were the ones who took care of me after my parents were murdered one night when I was six. The suspect was never found, but it was believed that they were witnesses to a murder that occurred that same night, not far from where they were found—which was later revealed to be the work of a serial killer who had claimed the lives of seven others in five months. That case ran cold, and none of the victims received the justice they deserved in death. And their families, we all suffered an emptiness that would never truly heal. An even deeper void lingered within me when the last two members of my family passed away within the same week, but I was at least glad to find out that I’d have their antiques with me to remember them by. A year later, I quit my job...

I had solved countless cases as a homicide detective, but my first serial killer case was leading me to multiple dead ends. The case stumped everyone working on it, for it seemed that the killer was always ten steps ahead. The victim count rose to double digits within two months, and we still had zero evidence. No leads, no witnesses, it was as if they were a ghost. Based on the swiftness of the execution of each kill and the subsequent cover-up of evidence, some of us speculated that it was most likely two or more people carrying out the crimes—and we especially agreed on the idea that they most likely had a background, or at least extensive knowledge, in Law Enforcement and Forensics. I asked my mother, the Chief Medical Examiner, about her thoughts on this case, and even she had no direct response. Another month passed, and the case was still leading us nowhere. At this point, our team was sidelined and the case was taken over by the higher-ups. They surprisingly showed faster resul...

For as long as I could remember, I could peer through objects, often allowing me to see through walls and sometimes even find secrets buried deep within the earth. This was why I joined the police force after graduating from university. It was a dream come true, as I was able to rely on my intuition and abilities to solve cases quicker than any of my colleagues. Soon, I rose through the ranks and became a detective, but that achievement turned suspicious eyes towards me, as many questioned my ability to close cases faster than anyone else. One day, the Captain requested that I come to her office. She raised concerns over words that were spreading throughout the department about my potential involvement in the cases I solved. I found the rumours to be ridiculous and said that I simply had good instincts. I proposed that I’d hand in my gun and badge and be on leave for a month; the Captain thought it was unnecessary, but I insisted, asking her to let someone else handle my current case. ...

Ever since we were children, my twin sister and I always dreamed of building a time machine; and as we grew older, we became more determined to turn it into reality. However, our hard work through university and beyond went unrecognised since no one was willing to back our project. As a last resort, we turned to Prof. Jacobs, one of our former lecturers, for help; he said he knew someone who could provide us with the funding we needed. We began our project a week later with the help of a millionaire with the right connections, who was more than willing to help as long as his name was stamped on the project. Prof. Jacobs also joined our efforts, initially helping only on weekends, but later immersing himself fully into the project. We were glad that he was just as enthusiastic as us about the possibility of time travel. We once asked him whether he was curious about time travel since he was a child as well, but he said no. Prof. Jacobs said he just wished he could prevent certain events...

I had just moved into a new house by the sea after switching jobs. The rustling of the leaves and the lapping of the waves surrounding me were comforting beyond words, and the serene scenery beyond my doorstep brought time to a halt each moment it drew my gaze. However, although I enjoyed this tranquility at first, I soon came to witness the disquietude that lingered in the heart of an old homeless man nearby. I first saw him while walking home from work. He was clutching his sunglasses with one hand and wailing his other arm into the air, cursing at someone or something that was seemingly out to get him. “No, stay back, you demons!” he’d say. “Go away! Begone! Haven’t you taken enough from me?” he’d continue. The man repeated those words every day for three days in a row. Many onlookers avoided him without a word, while a few others often recorded him with amusement in their eyes. I felt my stomach curl seeing his struggles. He looked like he needed professional help. When I attempted...

My twin sister Alesia was the epitome of kindness in my town and was considered a saint by the congregation. Priests and nuns labelled her an “angel” and encouraged her to be more selfless, regardless of the situation. It was as if their definition of an angel was the same as that of a doormat. However, at the same time, there were those envious of her who often called her “too good to be true”. They often mocked her as being fake. I hated both these sides; they only projected their own ideals at her and never took into account how she truly felt. But Alesia wasn’t the only one whom the town had divided views on: while she was the “angel”, I was the “demon”, the “witch”. Unlike Alesia, I would not allow people to walk all over me, and I certainly did not keep quiet about the indifferences many of us faced by the self-righteous zealots in the congregation. It was one of the many reasons why I stopped attending mass in my early teens. The clergy tried to have me return to church, but I r...

Since I was a child, I could easily read any living thing’s feelings and know their entire history just with a single touch. Humans, dogs, birds, and even trees—I felt everything they’ve ever experienced. It was both a blessing and a curse, for while there was so much joy, there was also an equal, if not more, amount of pain. When I first proved to my classmates that I had these abilities, most of them were amazed, however, a few classmates, and even a number of teachers, began to fear me and call me names. My mom forced me to stop talking about my abilities with others from that point on, but eventually, I came to be labelled a freak by most children at school, as well as by many people in our neighbourhood. Mom and I moved to a new town not long after, and there, I kept my secret to myself even after I graduated and joined the police force. My abilities allowed me to quickly rise through the ranks and become a detective. In the field, even though my abilities were a secret, people be...

For as long as I remember, I always felt as if I was being followed. When I brought this up with my parents, they reported it to the police. However, the cops couldn’t find anything and the investigation went nowhere. I was embarrassed enough because of the investigation since the issue caught the attention of the entire school, but then my parents made it worse by hiring a private investigator. After a while, I no longer knew whether I was actually being followed or whether it was just the PI. My parents called her off after a year had passed, but the feeling of being followed still remained. Mom and Dad checked on me once in a while, asking whether I sensed anything strange, but I said nothing. I never saw or heard anyone, it was always just a feeling I could never shake off. There was nothing I could prove, so I decided to remain silent. If I truly had a stalker, then they had ample time to learn my daily routine and approach me when it was convenient. For years, I hadn’t encountere...