I must be dreaming. That is all I am thinking as I walk hurriedly through the unfamiliar yet somehow oppressive corridors that my dream somehow takes me to. The corridors change, from sterile modern white to dark brown soil, packed hard into the walls. And then suddenly it changes again. I am in a large, roughly circular room with a ceiling so high that I can’t even see it. The only light comes from torches set into the walls of the room, and as I step into its center, the flame burning in the torches turns unnaturally blue and I see an arched doorway on the other side of the room. Suddenly a blindingly bright light flashes in the doorway. It’s warm, golden light, almost like sunshine...I suddenly snap awake. The sun is shining in through my window. Of course I forgot to close the blinds. It’s now May and the days are getting longer. I grab the alarm clock on my desk, this being the only thing I can do without completing the Herculean task of getting out of bed in the morning. It’s only 5:30 and this is a Saturday. I grab a book off the shelf, which is mercifully close to my bed, and begin to read, without even bothering to check what it is. I continue to read until, three books later, my mom comes in and I get a compulsory, “What are you doing, Sam?!? Little boys need to sleep!!” I groan and finally hoist myself out of bed, muttering something incoherent about fifteen not being little. Mom simply sighs and stalks out, probably to go ambush my little brothers. I hope she doesn’t succeed in waking them up. Those two are a serious pain in the rear end and I prefer my weekends to be at least relatively enjoyable. Or at least more enjoyable than school days. Then again, anything short of being boiled in vinegar beats sitting in math class for an hour. I walk out into the hall and demonstrate to myself how tired I am by running into a wall. I shake my head, realizing that I am smiling slightly to myself, and walk into the kitchen. I grab the box of cheerios on the counter and pour some into a bowl, not bothering with milk. I eat as quickly as humanly possible, intending to start playing video games as soon as I can, which is pretty much my mission statement on weekends. But for some reason I find myself opening the front door. Before I can figure out what I’m doing there, Mom comes over, probably having heard the door open. “Where are you going?” she asks almost triumphantly, as if she expects me to answer, “To Antarctica.” I’m actually tempted to say that for a moment, but then I realize I don’t actually know the real answer. So, instead, I say the first logical thing that comes to mind.  “Just for a walk. I won’t be long. And yes, I ate,” I say, seeing her already accusing expression, which disappears shortly, replaced by a surprised smile. I walk out before she can ask me what’s come over me, mainly because I don’t know myself. I walk down Kent street, to the corner of Washington. I stop there for a minute, leaning on a telephone pole, trying to remember what I am doing here. That’s when the two guys arrive. The first thing I notice is that they’re wearing weird long coats like something out of an old spy movie, even though it’s already hot outside. They’re arguing loudly and angrily, in such a way that I can’t help overhearing them. One of them, a tall, burly, red-faced guy yelled at the other with a rough, deep voice, like he spent his free time eating sandpaper shouted at the other, “What do you mean you dropped it?! I specifically told you not to lose it! We’d be rich if we each got one tenth of what the boss was payin’ us for it! I had seen enough movies to know that these guys were probably gang members or something and if I’d had any sense at all, I would run. But for some reason, I stayed right there, paralyzed. The other guy, a much shorter and considerably fatter version of his partner, spoke with a high, reedy voice. “I already told you, someone must have took it! I don’t drop things! And anyway, what does the boss want with a-MMPHH! ” That last part was because Spy Dude Number One had just clamped a gloved hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. “How many times have I got to tell you, don’t talk about him in public! Do you want a knife in the leg?” The now terrified Spy Dude Two nodded quickly. “Good.” he said shortly, roughly releasing him. They continued walking down Kent street, Spy Dude One still yelling at his unfortunate partner. For a minute I just stand there, trying to slow down my racing heart. For some reason this conversation terrifies me, for no good reason whatsoever. Why am I panicking?,I think to myself. It’s their business, I kept telling myself. You are not involved. You don’t need to care. You should not care. Just go on with your life. I repeat this several times before I finally calm down enough to clear my head. I’m just starting to walk away from the street corner when suddenly something catches my eye. It’s a strange flash in the corner of my vision, almost like a signal mirror. I turn and look down Washington street. There, lying in the middle of the sidewalk where it definitely wasn’t there before, is a stone. It’s a rock, you idiot, I told myself. Go home. But against my good reason I find myself walking towards it. Its almost as if the rock itself is pulling me towards it. It’s literally right under me now and out of curiosity I pick it up. It’s a gray rock, oblong but perfectly smooth. This is stupid, I think, shaking my head. But then I look back down at it. The rock has turned to a lavalike red color, almost like solid fire, if that existed. I almost drop it but I keep watching, mesmerized by the thing in my hand. The fiery red color of the stone flickers and changes between shades of red and orange, almost as if there was actually a live fire inside the rock. I know that that’s simply not possible, but that doesn’t make the object in my hand any less awesome. As I watch the fire suddenly changes, from reds and oranges to blues and purples to a golden miniature inferno so bright that I have to look away from it. The warm golden light coming off it is vaguely familiar, but I don’t know why or where I remember it from. And then the golden glow shuts off as quickly as it began, leaving me dazed and no one else the wiser for what I have just seen. I shove the stone in my pocket and I’m beginning to walk back home when I hear a rough, deep voice say, “Hey you.” I immediately freeze, then slowly turn around. The two guys from before who looked like 1980s spies are standing in front of me, with expressions so animalistically furious that they would be almost comical if they weren’t directed right at me. Their hands are empty, but there are two of them and there’s no one else on the street, other than a squirrel which is watching attentively from a nearby tree in someone’s yard.. It’s funny how I suddenly notice all this. Seeing them has put me on edge, like I’d just committed a crime. I try to calm my sudden nerves and think. These guys aren’t after you. You’ve done nothing wrong. Then I realize that the rock in my pocket is heating up, so much that I can feel it against my leg. “Something wrong?” I ask them, my voice sounding surprisingly casual, at least to me. Their expressions don’t change even a bit. “We’re looking for something of ours that we dropped ‘round here. This oval rock thing. It doesn’t look like nothin’, but it’s very important to us.You seen it anywhere?” An icy dagger of terror shoots down my spine because not only do I know exactly what they’re talking about, it’s sitting in my pocket. “No.” I say quickly. A little too quickly. The fat one growls.“You’re lyin’!” He snaps, and suddenly the numbing stings of fear become a full-on torrent. My whole body feels weak, but my mind is working, desperately trying to find a way out of this situation, or for that matter, do anything. Then a lot of things happen very quickly. The taller guy sticks his hand in his jacket pocket. He turns up with a switchblade and flicks it open. As he does, the stone in my pocket, which had been growing hotter and hotter throughout the conversation, turns lava-hot and flies right out of my pocket and into my hand. I see now that it has turned brilliantly blue, like the  bottom of a gas fire. The men hesitate, and I see both fear and recognition dawn in their faces. This is certainly what they were talking about losing earlier. The guys seem to finally realize that there are two of them and they have a switchblade, versus me and a glowing rock, unless the squirrel, which is still watching, decides to join in. They come at me. Then the really weird stuff starts happening. The temperature around me seems to rise several degrees. The taller man’s switchblade starts to smoke in his hand and he drops it, yelling in pain. He opens his hand, and I see the knife handle-shaped burn on his hand. The second one looks to be in no hurry to do anything about this and he backs away, looking scared out of his mind. But as I turn to look at him, his pants catch fire spontaneously. He screams in shock and wastes no time running away and his partner, who had been lying on the ground clutching his injured hand, follows suit. My hands shake as I put the rock back in my pocket. Alright, I’ve got a freaking alien rock that can make things spontaneously combust. Nothing strange there. I practically jump out of my skin when I hear a sharp beep coming from my pocket. I’d forgotten about the other thing in there-my cell phone. The black casing is half melted from the heat of the rock, but the phone is still working. It’s my mom. I quickly text her back: Will be home in a little while. I decide to follow the two men. If someone wants the stone that badly, I want to know who it is. Now that I’ve seen firsthand what it does, I can’t just give it up to anyone. I walk down the road. It doesn’t take me long to catch up to them, at the pace they’re walking. They’re not in great shape and they were sprinting for their lives moments earlier. They walk down to the center of Adams, Texas and turn into an alley between a McDonalds and a dry cleaning store. After pretending to look into the window of a nearby hobby shop, I follow them. The alley twists around before ending in a dead end with nothing more than a few century-old dumpsters. I’m just about to leave when I see a small metal hatch set into the ground just next to a particularly disused-looking dumpster. I try it and almost can’t believe my luck when it opens, the hinges surprisingly not squeaking at all. A polished metal ladder leads several feet down into what appears to be a well-lit white room. I hesitate for just a second before descending. After reaching the bottom, I look around. I’m in a white room with two corridors leading out. It suddenly occurs to me that I don’t have a map of this strange place. Or a water bottle or flashlight. Just the strange stone, my phone, and my wits. Instead of giving myself time to realize how idiotic it is to do so, I choose the right corridor and forge ahead. The corridors are lined with steel-doored rooms with windows built into the walls. I take a look in some. Most are empty, but a few contain tables with stands housing strange relics. I see a golden scepter topped with a carved design of a strange animal I don’t recognize, a curved dagger burning with silvery fire, even a purple stone resembling mine, and some things so strange I don’t even have words for them. But I don’t see any people, which is unnerving. Then something strange happens(Add it to the list.). The walls change, from white to packed dirt. I remember this place now and I realize why I recognized the stone’s light. I dreamed about this place, I realize, stunned. And then I reach the massive circular room. The torches turn blue as I walk to the center of the room, and I already know what will happen as the golden light washes over me. But this time, something different happens. 
     As the light shines, I see the silhouette of a human figure in the doorway.