Story

Title: The Last Page of Yesterday Liam Carter considered himself an ordinary 17-year-old. He lived in a small town called Willow Creek, where nothing extraordinary ever seemed to happen. The biggest excitement was the annual fair, which had the same corn dogs and rickety rides every year. But everything changed on a rainy Thursday afternoon in late October. School had just let out, and Liam was waiting for the rain to let up before heading home. He took refuge in the town's public library, an old building with creaky wooden floors and the distinct smell of dusty books that seemed to whisper secrets of the past. As he wandered through the aisles, his gaze landed on a small, worn-out journal tucked between an encyclopedia and a historical non-fiction book. It was so out of place that curiosity got the better of him. He pulled the journal from the shelf and examined it. The cover was leather, deeply cracked with age, and the pages were yellowed and fragile. The title on the front read, "The Chronicles of the Impossible." Intrigued, Liam found a quiet corner and began to read. The journal belonged to someone named Edith Hawthorne, and the first entry was dated October 15, 1923—almost exactly a century ago. Edith described herself as an amateur historian who had stumbled upon something remarkable. She wrote about a peculiar event she claimed happened in Willow Creek, a seemingly impossible event that defied the laws of nature. With each page, Liam's heart raced faster. Edith detailed a night when the sky opened up and rained down glowing stones that vanished upon contact with the ground. She wrote about how she had collected one of these stones, which had illuminated her room with an unearthly light before disappearing entirely the next morning. Liam's hands shook as he turned the page, revealing a sketch of one of the stones. It was unlike anything he had seen before, a swirling mass of colors, like a rainbow trapped within a raindrop. Alongside it, Edith had written, "The stones sing in the silence." What did that mean? Liam had to know more. The last entry in the journal spoke of a location—an old oak tree in the town park known as "The Sentinel." Edith believed the tree held the key to understanding the impossible event. Determined to uncover the truth, Liam slipped the journal into his bag and dashed out of the library as the rain subsided. He arrived at the park, where The Sentinel stood tall and majestic, its branches like outstretched arms reaching for the heavens. Liam approached the tree, heart pounding. He glanced around to ensure he was alone before circling the trunk. On the back side, partly obscured by moss, he found markings etched into the bark—symbols that matched the ones in Edith’s sketches. He hesitated, feeling the weight of discovery settling on his shoulders. Was this just an elaborate hoax, or was there something truly impossible hidden here? With a deep breath, Liam traced the symbols with his fingers. Suddenly, the air shimmered around him, and the ground beneath his feet seemed to hum. The world blurred, and Liam stumbled backward, grabbing the tree for support. When his vision cleared, he found himself standing in a place both familiar and strange. The park was still there, but it was different. The colors were more vibrant, and the air had a crispness that tingled on his skin. People dressed in early 20th-century attire strolled by, oblivious to his presence. It was as if he had stepped back in time. Panicked, Liam clutched the journal and tried to calm his racing mind. He flipped to the last entry again, searching for clues. Edith had mentioned a ripple in time, a moment when the past and present overlapped. She believed that in these moments, it was possible to witness the impossible—if only for a heartbeat. Liam wandered through the park, watching as children played games long forgotten and couples exchanged shy glances under the watchful eye of The Sentinel. He felt like an intruder in someone else's history. As he walked, he noticed a young woman sitting on a bench, sketching vigorously. She wore a simple dress and had her dark hair pulled back in a loose bun. Something about her seemed familiar. Curious, Liam approached her, careful to stay out of sight. Peering over her shoulder, he saw that she was sketching The Sentinel, her focus intense. It was Edith Hawthorne. She looked exactly as he had imagined. Liam’s breath caught in his throat. He was witnessing the impossible—a window into the past, a living history. Suddenly, a shadow fell over the page, and Edith looked up. Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a brief moment, Liam felt as though she could see him, truly see him, across the chasm of time. But then the