Hancock 1 Thomas Hancock Mrs.

Gardner Honors English 2 8/30/13 Fate isnt Cement

It happened a year ago in New Orleans. I had decided to take my fathers boat out onto the bayous to fish, which was and still is my favorite thing to do. My dads boat was the familys greatest treasure, a small green dingy with a snakehead prow that had been lovingly maintained by my family through generations. Nothing else that we owned compared to our boat in value. It was our greatest source of income, and was the pride of the family. I had gone fishing in it on a Thursday, which is unusual for me because I usually fish on Sundays, but on that day it had just felt right. I left the dock early in the morning, going through my mental checklist of things to go over before setting off: bottled water, a small amount of food, bait, and some extra lines and nets. I then departed, bypassing the normal fishing areas and heading into the deepest part of the bayou, which I knew had the best catch. As I left the dock I felt like I was leaving civilization, like I was the only person in the world, and that the earth was mine to tame. For me, this special, secluded section of the bayous had this overpowering sense of wildness and a deep animal nature that appealed to me. I didnt know why I liked this feeling so much, but this made it my favorite place in the world. Whenever I had any kind of problem I would just boat out to my bayou and sit there for hours, pondering the situation, and when I came out, I usually had some type of solution thought out. This place was my safe haven, and I felt like I owned it. This is why I was surprised at the splash I heard when I made it to the first place where I dropped my nets. I looked around, seeing if there were any ripples in the water around me. There were none. I looked around again, and I noticed an enormous tree growing out of the water that I had never seen before. I

Hancock 2 decided to investigate, and paddled over to the tree. As I was making my way around its massive girth, I heard the splash again, and that was when I saw its source. Another boat, a small one like mine, just floating there. Inside it there was a man hunched over the side, throwing nets into the water. I thought that he had just happened to wander into my area, and was about to tell him to get lost when he turned around and looked at me. I blinked and leaned back in shock. The face looked familiar to me somehow, I just couldnt place it. The man was old, around sixty or seventy, and had thinning white hair, and smile lines around his eyes. He was wearing jeans, and a blue plaid button up shirt. I had never seen him before, and yet couldnt shake the feeling that I knew him on some deep and personal level. It was at this point when I studied his boat more carefully. It was old, and had faded green paint on it, but the most interesting part was the prow of the boat. It was a snakehead, just like the one on mine. I swung my gaze back to the man, and a wave of shock swept over me like water over sand. It was me. I was certain of it. The facial features were the same, a small nose, green eyes, and a small mouth, all wrinkled with age but still the same. I pinched myself, thinking that perhaps I was in a dream and that I would wake up safely in my bed far away from this strange occurrence. But nothing happened. I tried to look for some discerning mark on his face to make absolutely sure it was who I thought it was, and- there! The scar on my head that I had gotten playing football when I was ten was there, faded, but there. Spooky. I thought to myself. How could this be happening? The man looked at me, and I could tell that he was going through the same thought process. Then he spoke. Are you me? He asked. I think so. We both have the same scar on our head, and we look the same. And we are fishing in the same boat. Weird huh? True, but prove it! He demanded.

Hancock 3 When you were a child, you lived on 82 Livingston Dr. in Ashland, Oregon, and then you moved to New Orleans when you were ten. Okay, go on. He said with his eyes narrowed. Your best friends were Barry Irving and Warren Rice, and your first girlfriend was Danica Palmer in eighth grade. As a kid, you wanted to be Han Solo, and a fire fighter. Your favorite books were the Rangers Apprentice series by John Flanagan, and you read through the entire series six times. We must be the same then, I never told anyone I wanted to be Han Solo What day is it? He asked. The third of May, twenty-thirteen. No its not! Its 2075! How could we be in the same place, but at a different time? I dont know. What I do know is that this meeting is not me dreaming. Ive pinched myself and I didnt wake up in my bed, so this is real. The only real question is: why has this happened? I cannot say, but while I am here, you might as well learn some things about your future, if you would like to know. Sure, thats a wonderful idea. Well, I will start off with the bad news You wont be a firefighter, but you will actually join the navy and quickly rise through the ranks in combat with African pirates. That will be your only combat, as there are no major conflicts during my- I mean- your lifetime. You quickly will become an admiral and then have a brief stint with the Joint Chiefs of Staff before retiring and moving back to New Orleans. You will get married to a girl from California, and have two children, but she will die at age sixty. You also will win the lottery and buy a Lamborghini you will be happy with your life, as I am happy with mine.

Hancock 4 I sat there digesting this information, and suddenly had a very anxious feeling. This was not supposed to happen, and somehow this whole meeting was throwing everything in the world out of balance. I was certain at that moment that Australians really were walking around upside down and that pigs were flying. I needed to get out of there. Hey, I said I need to leave; my parents will want me home in time for dinner. Just tell me one thing What happened to the Lamborghini? I totaled it, one hundred miles-per-hour into a median. Well, goodbye then, we should talk again next Thursday. Sounds goodGoodbye. With that I tipped my hat to my older version of me, and paddled away. As I went around the circumference of the tree, I heard one last splash as he threw a net into the water, and then he disappeared around the tree trunk. I left the bayous immediately after that, and didnt return until the next Thursday. But when I did return, when I finally did reenter the vast swamps, my older self was not there. I never saw him again after that, but I still remember what he said, and I have one thing to say about it. He has only been right about one thing so far in my life, and that is that I am happy with it.