MAYBE THERE'S A PAST LIFE
COMING OUT INSIDE OF ME
maggie rogers

Matty couldn't stop thinking about the twins he met at the party. There was something strange about them he couldn't pinpoint. And it wasn't just that they were twins. Twins freaked Matty out. However, he didn't think too much of it given he was slightly steamed when they met. He had been feeling strange for a while about lots of things in his life but he assumed that came with growing up as an orphan.

As he sat there hoping for the girl who claimed to be from a magazine to call, he tried to recall if he had ever met her before. Matty was notorious for having a terrible memory, especially recently.

Was it the weed? Nah, fuck that. It wasn't the weed.

He had been sitting by the phone all day making sure one of his housemates didn't use it until Ms Magazine called. The only thing in his stomach was black coffee and nicotine.

Matty never cared too much about anything except his writing. But for some reason he felt as if this phone call was something he'd been anticipating his whole life. Every day since that fucking party he was sitting by the phone.

He stared at the phone and narrowed his eyes. He thought that maybe he could make the phone ring with his mind.

RING!

Matty jumped back, falling out of his dinky wooden chair. He quickly got up and answered the phone. His heart had never beat so fast, not even when he did cocaine. He began to feel as if someone was playing a large joke on him.

"Hello," he said into the receiver, trying not to sound as shaky as he was.

"Hey! It's Cleo from the other night! From the magazine!"

Her chipper voice gave Matty a slight peace of mind. He took an inhale of his cigarette and replied, "Yeah, alright Cleo? Been waiting for your call. Had me startin' to think you were scamming me or trying to harvest my organs."

She giggled, "Oh, no! I was actually calling to set up an interview with you! I'd love to speak about your work and everything. And sober! Oh, and in person! If I give you my address would you be able to make it? I was thinking about tomorrow around noon? Or, hell if you can do tonight —"

"It in London?"

"Yes!"

"Yeah, t'night's fine. What magazine are you for anyway?" He asked. It's not like he didn't believe her fully, but he thought a fact check might benefit him.

"So we're actually just starting up so you may not have heard of us! It's called the, er... The Quibbler."

Matty paused, "Is this a fuckin' joke?"

"What? No! Yes, it's a silly name but it suits our eccentric — "

He interrupted her, "I'll be there in an hour."

She gave him the address and they hung up. Matty threw the phone down and shut his eyes tightly. What was going on? He knew all about The Quibbler. He used to read it with a friend from school all the time. Wait, fuck. No, he didn't. Matty didn't have any friends in school. No whimsical blonde girls... She wasn't real.

Matty took a deep breath. He was getting confused again. Sometimes he would just get so into his writing that he would confuse prose for memories. But no, none of it was real. Maybe he'd heard about The Quibbler somewhere else. Maybe in the paper or on a flyer posted somewhere he had been.

He decided to stop overthinking. He needed clarity. So he scarfed down a cheese sandwich and made his way to the bus stop. Walking always cleared his head. As he walked, he took out his bus map that was always stuffed in his pocket and picked which stop would be best. By the looks of it, Cleo was living in a decently nice part of town. She did come off as fairly rich when they met. Proper grammar and good teeth, both she and her twin were way too well put together for the event.

Matty got to the bus stop and smoked one more cigarette as he waited. Not many people were taking the bus just yet. He was just about to board before the rush. After his stop at Cleo's place, the bus would head into the boring side of town. Finances and businesses. Men in suits who hated their wives but hated themselves more. Matty would rather die than turn into someone like that.

God, that may have been the best cigarette he had ever had. Even after he put it out and stomped the remnants with his thick boots, it felt as if it were still between his fingers. The smoke surrounding him was good enough to bathe in. He wanted to bask in the tobacco cloud forever.

The bus came and Matty got seated, but he was still thinking about that smoke.

He feverishly opened the bag he had brought and took out something to write with and his notepad.

With a little over thirty minutes on his bus ride, he took the time to write. He saw it so perfectly. He could smell it, actually.

Fireworks.

Colorful combustions of gunpowder, an excellent way to annoy your teachers. He began to dive into a story about boys setting off fireworks inside their school. They did it for the love of mischief and that was reason enough.

This was good.

He had written everything so quickly. There were lots of mistakes and half of the words would be illegible to anyone but him. He tucked the pen and paper back in his bag and smiled. And just like magic, he was at his stop.

"Any minute now," Andrew sighed. "Are we sure about this?"

"Positive," Dealla said firmly.

"But what if it's not him," the man buried his face in his hands and pressed his clammy palms to the sockets of his eyes. "What if he's gone?"

"He isn't," Cleo interrupted. The three of them were sitting in the den of the Harrison home awaiting Aaron's arrival. Cordelia was upstairs with Emily. Rory still had no clue what was going on. Andrew felt guilty for keeping her in the dark, but if their plan didn't work out, he couldn't bear to kill her brother twice.

Dealla had assured Andrew that it wouldn't take much to bring Aaron out of Matty. Based on what Cleo had said about their conversations, he was already crawling his way out. With a simple charm as well as seeing his father, things seemed optimistic.

Cleo peered outside the window and put her hand over her mouth, "Oh fuck, he's here."

Andrew stood up and was struck with the realization that he was emotionally unprepared. Any second, the knob was going to turn and the door was going to open and he would see his son again.

A knock.

"Come in!" Cleo shouted. "It's open!"

For the first time in a very long time, Andrew saw the yellow hues that covered the canvas of the world. The room seemed covered in gold like a Midas touch. He couldn't contain himself.

"What's all this?" Aaron (Matty?) asked with a perplexed look on his youthful face.

"D'you know who this is?" Cleo asked, gesturing to Andrew.

"I... Yeah, I did. I mean, I do. But... No."

"Aaron," Andrew said quietly.

The boy lowered his head, "No. No this isn't real. This is a fantasy life... This isn't my life. I don't have a dad or a mum or a clean house or — are you holdin' a fucking magic wand?!" He pointed a shaky finger at Dealla. "Wait, this has happened before. Don't come near me with that thing again! D'YOU HEAR ME?! I JUST WANT TO GO HOME! I DIDN'T DO NOTHING WRONG!"

"It's time to come home, Aaron," Andrew said. Dealla raised her wand at Aaron and a gust of golden light came out.

From across the room, there was a strange flash of green light and someone emerging from the fireplace.

a/n
don't ask me what this is. i wrote half of this in the car in like october and did the second half tonight bc i was waiting for my cat to snuffle with me so i could sleep. this isn't gonna be a regular thing but it's a thing right now so yay. also this was written on my phone so it's not rrly edited. i just wanted this out there 🕺🏻