Drifting Between Worlds

The First Awakening

Ethan Carter woke up with a start.

The ceiling above him was smooth and white, far too pristine to be his own. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden streaks across a sleek wooden floor. The sheets beneath him were crisp, cool, and smelled faintly of citrus and lavender.

His heart pounded as he turned his head, scanning the unfamiliar room. It was a minimalist hotel suite, modern yet oddly impersonal. A glass desk sat against the wall, an untouched coffee tray beside it. A large painting of a city skyline, illuminated by sunset hues, hung above the bed.

Something was wrong.

His body felt sluggish, as if he had been asleep for too long. He rubbed his eyes, inhaling deeply to steady his breath. The last thing he remembered was going to bed in his small apartment in Chicago. It had been an ordinary night—he’d worked a late shift at the bar, grabbed a slice of pizza on his way home, and crashed onto his bed without a second thought.

But now, he was somewhere else.

He sat up quickly, throwing the covers off. His legs were stiff, his movements slightly uncoordinated. His clothes—gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt—were his, but the bed, the room, the air—none of it was familiar.

Panic crept up his spine.

He reached for his phone on the nightstand, his fingers trembling slightly. As he tapped the screen, the date and time popped up.

March 14th, 7:12 AM.

That seemed right. But the location…

His stomach dropped.

Barcelona, Spain.

Ethan stared at the screen, unblinking.

No. That had to be a mistake. He tapped the GPS app, refreshing it, waiting for the little blue dot to correct itself. But there it was, blinking confidently over Barcelona’s bustling streets.

His breath quickened.

This was impossible.

He hadn’t booked a flight. He hadn’t blacked out from drinking. He had been in Chicago last night, had fallen asleep in his own bed. There was no way he could be here.

Unless—

His mind grasped for logical explanations. Sleepwalking? Drugged? A prank? None of it made sense. He checked his phone again, scrolling through his call log, his messages. No missed calls, no texts, no notifications at all. That wasn’t normal. His best friend, Caleb, usually sent him stupid memes before bed. His sister, Hannah, always texted him in the mornings. But there was nothing.

It was as if no one had even noticed he was gone.

A knock at the door made him jump.

His pulse hammered in his ears. He turned his head toward the sound, frozen.

“Señor Carter?” A woman’s voice. Soft, professional. “Your breakfast is ready.”

Ethan didn’t respond.

His last name. She knew his last name.

How?

He stood slowly, moving toward the door with measured steps. His hand hovered over the doorknob, but he didn’t open it. Instead, he leaned in, listening.

No movement.

After a few seconds, he heard footsteps retreating down the hall.

Ethan exhaled sharply, stepping back. His mind raced.

There had to be an explanation.

He turned back to the desk and spotted a notepad and pen. He grabbed the pen, flipped open the notepad, and wrote in quick, frantic strokes:

March 14th. Woke up in Barcelona. No idea how.

His fingers trembled as he underlined it twice.

Get answers. Find out who brought me here. Get back to Chicago.

He needed to move.

Rushing to the small closet, he yanked it open. Inside, a leather jacket hung neatly next to a pair of jeans and sneakers. His size. His style. He hesitated before touching them. Were they really his? Or had someone dressed him, prepared this for him?

He put them on anyway. He needed to blend in.

Once dressed, he grabbed his phone again and checked for his passport. It was in the nightstand drawer, exactly where he’d expect it to be. He flipped to the first page, his own face staring back at him.

Ethan Carter.

His hands clenched around the booklet. It was his. The stamps inside even looked normal—until he saw the last one.

Barcelona. Stamped yesterday.

His breath hitched.

He didn’t remember boarding a plane. He didn’t remember any of this.

A cold wave of fear washed over him.

He needed to get out of here.

Escape Attempt

Pushing aside his growing dread, he stuffed his passport into his jacket pocket and stepped out into the hallway. It was eerily quiet, lined with elegant sconces casting warm light against the cream-colored walls. The scent of fresh coffee and baked bread lingered in the air.

He kept his head down as he walked toward the elevator. A bellhop passed him, nodding politely. Ethan forced a tight-lipped smile and stepped inside the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby.

The doors slid shut. He exhaled sharply, gripping the rail.

When the doors opened again, he stepped out into a bright, airy lobby. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, and large windows revealed the bustling city outside. People moved in and out of the building, speaking in different languages, carrying suitcases, hailing taxis.

He didn’t stop to look around. He needed to get outside, get his bearings, figure out what the hell was happening.

As soon as he stepped onto the sidewalk, the warm Mediterranean air wrapped around him. The sounds of Barcelona hit him all at once—car horns, laughter, the distant strumming of a street musician’s guitar.

For a moment, the city felt almost normal. Almost real.

But Ethan knew better.

He pulled out his phone and opened a rideshare app. Nearest airport: El Prat.

Good. He tapped to request a car. Within seconds, a driver was on the way.

His chest tightened. Would it even matter?

Would he even make it back to Chicago?

Or would he fall asleep again and wake up somewhere else?

The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

He checked his notepad again, rereading his frantic handwriting. His only proof that this was real. That he was real.

Then, just as his car pulled up to the curb, his phone screen flickered.

The battery icon showed 100%, but the screen glitched again, the GPS blinking erratically.

Then, a message appeared across the screen.

"You are not ready to leave."

Ethan’s blood ran cold.

The phone slipped from his fingers.

And the moment it hit the ground, the world around him blurred—

Everything tilted—

And Ethan Carter fell into darkness.