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SH - Chapter 2: Alternate reality?
🕑 Added 2025-09-01 16:13:23 +0000 UTCAfter leaving his parents’ house, Henry walked toward Owen’s car parked in the driveway: a 2018 BMW 3 Series in dark blue.
The exterior was dull, covered in a fine layer of dust that robbed it of its potential shine. When he opened the door, the stench of old food and what seemed like a long-spilled coffee flooded his nostrils.
The inside of the car was chaos. Crumpled McDonald’s bags and candy wrappers littered the passenger seat, along with empty soda bottles that rolled across the floor at the slightest movement.
Henry stared at the interior for a moment and let out a sigh heavy with frustration.
“Owen, you were a mess,” he muttered as he shoved aside a greasy McDonald’s bag, letting it drop carelessly onto the passenger seat.
Now that he had been cast out and his parents would no longer support him, Henry had to rely on this expensive car. He could sell it and live off the money for a few months while trying to land movie roles and clean up the bad reputation Owen had created.
Owen had no professional acting experience. The idiot hadn’t even accepted extra or minor supporting roles despite having spent two years in a prestigious acting program that had opened doors for him to participate in several projects and meet people.
But no, arrogant Owen had refused because they weren’t lead roles or at least significant supporting ones. For him, anything that didn’t put him under the spotlight wasn’t worth his time.
Henry now had to deal with that, along with the awful reputation Owen had earned in his academic circle. Since he had been expelled, contacting his old classmates would be difficult, and even harder would be convincing them to work with him.
On top of that, joining SAG-AFTRA, the most famous and prestigious actors’ union in the United States, was simply impossible right now. Henry knew the union offered countless advantages: protected contracts, fair wages, health benefits, even networking opportunities that could launch a career. But it wasn’t that simple.
To become a member, Owen would have needed at least one legitimate professional credit in a unionized project, something he clearly didn’t have. And the initiation fee was a hefty blow: over $3,000, with the annual dues not being cheap either. In his current state: unemployed and cast out, that wasn’t even a reasonable option.
Still, Henry knew the path he had to take. He had done it before. In his past life, when he started from nothing, he hadn’t had a BMW, or even Owen’s leftover savings, several hundred dollars still sitting in his bank account (courtesy of his parents, and luckily Owen hadn’t wasted them all on drugs and alcohol).
When Henry had first arrived in Hollywood at 18, he had nothing but a big dream and a nearly empty bank account. It had been a long, grueling journey. But with every rejection and every failure, he had learned what it meant to fight for something he truly loved.
While other actors could afford expensive schools or industry connections, he had to build everything from the ground up, with no safety net. His early years were a constant struggle: low-level auditions, meaningless roles, and the ever-present threat of poverty. But over time, that determination had carried him through.
Now, in this second life, he was in a much better position compared to his former self. Beyond the money he had here, he also carried all the experience, the experience of an actor who had been nominated for an Oscar and had performed in big-budget, successful films with important roles.
He needed to go back to basics: websites like Backstage and Casting Networks, where he could find auditions for independent productions, student short films, or even small commercials. Of course, nothing glamorous, but at least they would let him build some experience and a decent portfolio.
While thinking all this through, he arrived at the building where the previous Owen had been living.
At 20, Owen hadn’t lived with his parents anymore, though they still paid his rent. He had thrown the party at their house only because it was bigger and there wouldn’t be issues with neighbors. But the idiot had forgotten that his parents were coming back that very day.
He was renting an apartment in West Hollywood, a popular spot for young actors and up-and-coming artists, with its bohemian vibe.
The average cost for a one-bedroom apartment ranged from $2,500 to $4,500. The one Owen lived in cost $2,850 per month.
The building had a modern style, painted in beige and white tones, with balconies decorated with plants. He parked the car and got out, looking at the building with both relief and tension. He had 18 days left before rent was due again. After that, he’d either have to pay out of his own pocket or find another place to live.
He would choose the latter, since $2,850 per month was far too expensive. He was certain he could find cheaper apartments.
He couldn’t afford luxuries in his current situation. His plan was to live off the money from selling the car. That, plus what he already had in his bank account, would allow him to focus 100% on his acting career for at least a few months.
After that, he would look for a part-time job if necessary, though he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
He entered the building and headed to the elevator, pressing the button for the third floor. When he stepped out, he walked down the hall to the fourth door, pulled out the keys, and opened the apartment.
Henry closed the door behind him and dropped the keys on the small table by the entrance. He stood in the middle of the room, taking in the chaos Owen had left behind.
The living room had a worn-out sofa, a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and a coffee table cluttered with papers and dirty dishes.
The compact kitchen was fitted with modern appliances, though everything looked neglected and stained with grease. The bedroom at the end was a mess of clothes scattered across the floor and an unmade mattress, but comfortable enough to rest on.
“Well, it’s not the best setup, but not the worst either,” Henry muttered as he collapsed onto the sofa facing the TV.
'Transmigration… seven years of youth, not bad at all,' Henry thought. He would have preferred to be even younger, but who wouldn’t want to be seven years younger? To return at just twenty years old, and more importantly, to have died and been given a second chance.
'Should I call myself Owen from now on?' he wondered with a confused expression. His current body had a family and acquaintances who knew him by that name, and a past that, no matter how much he wanted to forget, would follow him wherever he went.
Creating a new identity would be very difficult, almost impossible, since he would remain in Los Angeles where the original Owen had lived his whole life.
Thinking about this, Henry pulled out his phone and unlocked it with his fingerprint. The screen lit up, and his eyes immediately went to the date: February 5, 2022. It was the exact day he had died in the plane crash.
It was strange, he had thought he’d spent a long time in that total darkness, but not even a day had passed.
With a sigh, he opened Google and typed in his name: Henry Harrison. He waited for a moment, as if somehow the search would return different results. But nothing.
'No way,' he thought, as his eyes scanned the screen, searching for anything that might confirm his existence. Nothing. No news about him, no photos of his career, not even a mention on Wikipedia.
The man who had once been nominated for an Oscar for his role as a villain didn’t exist. All that work, and his previous identity had vanished? It was not a pleasant feeling at all.
He tried another approach: his family, his two beloved grandparents. Again, nothing.
He searched and searched, over and over, but the names of his grandparents didn’t exist in this world. No records, not even vague mentions. It was as if they had never existed. Instead of sadness, he felt more like emptiness.
After about ten minutes of silent paralysis, he let out a heavy sigh and shook his head.
He couldn’t waste time wallowing. He had to adapt.
'In the future, I should take a trip to Nebraska and visit the cemetery,' Henry thought.
If the graves that commemorated his beloved grandparents didn’t exist, he would create them himself. He would remember and honor them until the end of this new life.
'A different universe where my previous self doesn’t exist? Am I in Marvel?' Henry thought, letting his phone drop.
'No, no… In Marvel’s alternate universes, the person doesn’t disappear; they simply have a different version of themselves, Henry reasoned,' picking his phone back up.
He searched for the movie that had catapulted him to fame and earned him his Oscar nomination. He was curious to see who had replaced him in the role.
However, the movie didn’t exist. This surprised Henry somewhat, though not nearly as much as transmigrating and discovering he didn’t exist in this world.
'The movie is good and it made a lot of money at the box office…' Henry thought, resting a hand on his chin.
He started searching more about the cast, directors, and screenwriters. Their names did exist, they were real people still alive, not like Henry Harrison.
Why hadn’t they made the movie? There were no traces of it, not even the title was registered, and by now several months should have passed since its release.
'This is strange, but it could be beneficial,' Henry thought.
He could write the script himself and try to sell it. He knew it by heart, having worked on the movie for months and watched it several times. Even though he wasn’t an expert screenwriter, he could learn.
The script was excellent. That was why it had earned several Oscar nominations. The only drawback was that he would have to sell it, since producing such a film himself was out of the question. Its budget had exceeded 50 million dollars. Who knew how long it would take to raise that kind of money?
With this new idea in mind, he began searching for other famous films.
Immediately, he started going through the biggest franchises and industry blockbusters. From old classics to more modern, box office hits.
As he scrolled, his posture shifted. He sat up straighter, his eyes fixed on the screen, and his expression shifted from mild disbelief to sharp seriousness.
Something didn’t add up. The films he remembered so clearly, many of his favorites, did not exist.
However, there were still many other big, successful movies that did exist.
With a thoughtful gaze, he began to notice a pattern.
“Why are the movies I remember, the ones that shaped my life and my favorites, missing here?” Henry wondered.
After a few seconds of silence, he came to a conclusion.
“The movies that don’t exist are the ones I watched in my past life… or so I believe,” Henry murmured to himself.
To confirm his suspicions, he resumed searching, but this time exclusively for films he had watched in his previous life, including TV series.
Each time he typed in a title, the result was the same: “No information found.” The feeling of confusion grew stronger, but at the same time, something inside him slowly began to stir with excitement. He was shocked, but also thrilled.
Somehow, the movies that didn’t exist here were the ones he had watched in his past life. After a few minutes, Henry stopped. He had seen many films, and the pattern was clear.
“If these movies don’t exist here… what if I’m the one who brings them back?” he thought, a spark of excitement growing within him.
Henry began smiling to himself, adrenaline flooding his body. The idea of writing a script that had once been hugely successful, and didn’t exist in this world, gave him an advantage he had never even imagined.
He could negotiate roles in films based on his “own” scripts. They weren’t really his, but it didn’t matter. He would also earn more money as the creator of the scripts. And later, when he had enough money, he would finance the films himself, giving himself any role he wanted and earning much more money.
He thought he would have to follow a path similar to his past life, but that wasn’t the case. This time it would be much better, much easier, and the heights he could reach would be far greater.
“Damn it, I’ll become the creator of Harry Potter, Squid Game, Friends, It, Interstellar, Gladiator, Stranger Things, Matrix…” Henry murmured with excitement as he stood up and began pacing in circles, naming countless famous films and franchises that didn’t exist here.
In the case of Harry Potter, not even the books existed. Henry believed that was because he had read them in his past life.
On the other hand, he had read It by Stephen King and had seen the 1990 series as well as the two films released in 2017 and 2019. He hadn’t read all of Stephen King’s novels, so many of them did exist here.
However, the sagas he hadn’t fully watched still existed. For example, the Marvel and DC cinematic universes. Despite being a big superhero fan, he hadn’t watched the dozens of films and series from those universes. Partly because the later installments sucked and were filled with political ideology. Another reason was that he had never read the countless comics from each franchise, and that was likely why they still existed here.
On the other hand, there were also many Disney films that he hadn’t watched in his past life. He had never been the biggest fan of those children’s movies, and many were adapted from very old fairy tales he had never read.
After a few minutes, Henry calmed down and glanced around at the state of his apartment. Before taking off toward stardom, he needed to clean up this mess.
Even if he was only staying there for 18 days, he had to work in optimal conditions while writing a script, though he still hadn’t decided which one.
“Time to clean,” Henry thought.
