It was the day after I attended my sister's funeral. I still hadn't gotten over the shock. I stared out the window of my apartment, turning the card over and over in my hand.

Miracle Clinic.

The clinic supposedly opened up recently in my district. However, strange rumours suggested otherwise. Some say it appeared in a flash of light while others say they were open for a while but never caught much attention from the populace. That is, until now.

There were many versions of how it became famous, but almost all had a consistent detail; a change in ownership. Some rich man bought off the clinic and changed the advertisements soon after. Before, the place specialised in herbal medicine but now, just like the name suggested, it specialised in miracles - the supernatural kind.

I shook my head. I was not that desperate, at least, not yet. Who was stupid enough to trust a mailed-in business card?

I sniffled and wiped the tears from my face. The weather seemed to reflect my mood as it started drizzling. I watched the spots of rain darken the concrete balcony before evaporating in the heat. The humidity would sure be horrendous tomorrow.

I sighed and walked back to my bed. I could not help but compare it to the one my sister laid. She seemed so peaceful. It was as if the stresses of her life and the burdens of her bad choices did not exist. It was only after a while did I realise that she was not breathing. If only she listened to my advice that day. If only she did not fall into the financial trap of gambling and alcoholism. If only she did not commit suicide.

I blinked and that superimposed image faded away. It was just a bed; a bed with neatly folded sheets. I pinched my brows and buried my face in my hands.

"You could start over; our clinic can do anything."

I jolted as I realised how close I was from dozing off. I rubbed my temples and stood up. With an almost graceful stumble to the fridge, I opened the door.

Oh yeah, I was supposed to shop today.

Sighing, I grabbed my keys and walked out of the apartment. The rain poured. People crowded at the street lights while the cars spewed out their disgusting exhaust. I walked to a brightly lit supermarket.

Glancing to the side, I saw a dilapidated building. I frowned. Among the well-maintained restaurants and gleaming skyscrapers, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

Suddenly brimming with intense curiosity, I shuffled towards the place, taking a step back as I saw the sign. It was a well-weathered sign. One could see that the sun bleached the painted words. However, one could still see the bold pink bubbly font proclaiming its service.

Miracle Clinic! A cure for a price!

Ominous.

I stared doubtfully at the rusted tin roof and the peeling paint of the weatherboard walls. It was a building that seemed to come from some country town.

I looked around, noting the people who passed by without batting an eye.

Perhaps it was always there.

I turned to the supermarket, stopping as some unspeakable compulsion demanded my attention to the building. I pursed my lips and blinked as I realised that the card was back in my hands. I guess it wouldn't hurt to check it out.

I walked closer and peered through the broken windows. There was nothing. I grasped the brass doorknob and opened the door, listening to the jingle of the door chime.

The store interior was surprisingly clean. There were no shards of broken glass, nor were there any lack of lights. On the contrary; the store was bright - painfully so. A multitude of display cases lined the walls. Butterflies of many colours lay still behind glass and pocket watches hung from the ceiling.

"Enjoying the view?"

I jumped. I turned my attention to the far side of the room where a dark-haired, blue-eyed man sat behind the desk. He smirked.

"Another troubled one, huh?"

I blinked. "Troubled one?"

The man gestured to a white-plastic seat at the front of the desk. "Please."

With hesitation, I obliged.

The man fiddled around with a gold pocket-watch. "Harriet Lurrington. Aged twenty-five and currently doing an office job." He set the watch down and smiled. "So, what seems to be the problem?"

I knew it! This place was shady.

I stood up and reached for my phone.

The man waved his hand, and the phone disappeared. "Now, now, calling the police won't help you." He sighed at my scared and confused expression. "We are not in the city anymore." He gestured to the magically-repaired windows. "See?"

I walked and peered through. There were undulating hills as far as the eye could see.

"Where are we?"

The man shrugged. "Here and there; between point A and point B."

I flew to the door, trying to open it but to no avail.

"You can't do anything, child. It is best to give up. Besides, I am not here to hurt you. On the contrary, I am here to help you. Only the troubled can see this place and only the troubled will know of Miracle Clinic."

I shook my head. "Impossible."

The man raised his brow. "Everything about this place is impossible. How about we get this over and done with? You aren't my only patient."

I warily sat back in the chair, distancing myself from the desk.

The man rolled his eyes before picking at his fingernails. "So, I assume you are here because of a loss."

I stayed silent.

The man kept picking at his fingernails then suddenly stopped. He looked up and tilted his head. "You regret not warning your sister. Correct?"

I pursed my lips and stared at the ground. "Yeah, and what can you do about it? My sister's gone." I buried my face in my hands. "There's nothing I can do, nothing."

The man tossed the pocket-watch on the floor. "You have one chance to turn back time. If you succeed in what you need to do, then that's great, but you will live with the burden of two timelines. If you fail, you forget about this place and go back to the beginning of this day. Open the watch."

I frowned. "What about the payment?"

The man laughed. "We'll negotiate that later. Just open the watch."

I tentatively picked up the small object and glared at the man suspiciously. He shot me an annoyed look before twirling a pen that appeared out of thin air.

Might as well do as he says. With a sigh, I picked open the clasp.

The scenery abruptly changed.

I was standing in front of a supermarket. I looked to the side, realising that the clinic was gone as if it never existed. Blinking in confusion, I reached for my phone.

"I'm surprised I have this. What a gentleman, Giving people their stuff back after he steals it," I muttered sarcastically.

I turned on the phone, my eyes widening at the date. Today-today was the day my sister would die. It was eight-thirty in the morning.

Hopefully, I won't be too late.

Rushing back to my apartment, I dialled my sister's number.

"Come on! Please pick up. Please don't let me be too late."

The phone abruptly stopped ringing. I could hear music in the background. My sister greeted me in her sleepy mumble.

"What's up?"

I opened the door, leaning the phone to my shoulder.

"Listen, don't go to work today. Make up an excuse or something. Just don't go to work."

"Sis, what's wrong with you? Has the stress of work suddenly got to you?"

I rubbed my forehead before grabbing a drink and preparing breakfast.

"Don't go to work. At least not today. Stay at home, please."

I heard something crash as my sister's unsure voice reached the phone. "One moment, you scream at me to work, the next, you beg me to do the opposite."

I bit my lip in desperation. "Please, just this once."

There was a moment of silence before I heard a sigh.

"Sure, whatever. Hang on. I need to go. Talk to you later.

I heard a beep as my sister hung up. I sighed and looked up, hoping that my sister would listen to my warning. After all, it was due to a remark from one of the staff that pushed her off the edge. I stared at the clock. It's time I made an excuse not to work.

...

I rushed to the train station, tapping my foot in frustration as the crowd slowed my advance. The old, almost cathedral-like building was so close, but at the same time, so far. When I finally managed to get into the station, it was already nine. I couldn't help but frown with worry as my sister would die at ten thirty-one. Finding the earliest train, I headed for the platform and sighed in relief as I managed to squeeze in just before it left.

After what seemed like forever, the train pulled up at Nevo Station. I pushed through the masses of people and breathed a sigh as I reached the exit. I made a beeline to the nearest bus stop, coughing as I passed by someone smoking. After tapping on, I stared out the window, waiting.

Anticipation built up, accompanied by nervousness. Once the bus stopped, I ran out, rushing across the street. Perhaps if I had been calmer, I would have avoided my fate. Perhaps if I had more patience, my last sight would not be a car barreling towards me.

...

Today was the day I mourned my sister. She died in an accident. She was a careless woman that tried her best to look after me. My gaze slid to the bottle. Even that didn't drown my grief. When our mother died, I couldn't cope, but now, I don't even know what to do. I had virtually no savings due to my bad choices. It was too sad that my sister's choice resulted in the extinguishing of her life. I should be the first to die. I was the oldest dammit!

My fist slammed the table, and I blinked as a card dislodged from the pile of unpaid bills. It had a strange design. It was void of a phone number or location and had only two words typed in the middle.

Miracle Clinic.

Dimly, I remembered something about this clinic. Maybe it was one of the Saturday nights where my friends came to drink. Some rich guy supposedly bought the clinic. Most importantly, I heard that the clinic could solve any problem; could perform miracles.

Twirling the card in my hand, I pondered. It sounded like a scam. Yet, some part of me felt compelled to seek the place. I shrugged and got up.

What else did I have to lose?

I shut the door, wincing at the sight of numerous empty bottles. Once I get this over and done with, I will get help. Sister and Mother deserved better.

I wandered aimlessly, feeling more and more foolish as time went by. I should have charged my phone.

Oh, wait, my electricity bill.

Giving up, I began to head back when a building caught my eye. My brows wrinkled as I examined the place. It stuck out like a sore thumb with its caving roof and broken windows. However, what caught my attention was the sign in a faded, big, bubbly script.

Miracle Clinic! A cure for a price.

Peering through the windows, I started having second thoughts.

Perhaps this was not a good idea. It seemed sketchy as hell.

As I prepared to leave, something stopped me; a compulsion. Resigning, I walked to the door and turned the knob, hearing the ring of the door chime.

The store interior was surprisingly clean. There were no shards of broken glass. A multitude of display cases lined the walls. Butterflies of many colours lay still behind glass and pocket watches hung from the ceiling. My attention turned to the far side of the room where a dark-haired man sat behind a desk, reading. He adjusted his posture at my approach.

The man gestured to a chair in which I sat. He clasped his hands and smirked.

"Heatherway Lurrington. Aged thirty. Job, cashier. Often gets drunk and struggles with everyday life."

He tilted his head, regarding me with bright, blue eyes. "So, what seems to be the problem?"

******

This short story was a slightly different one. It had no moral to teach or a meaningful revelation; it was just that, a story. As for miracle guy's identity, he is desire. The want of the people. I only revised this a few times so feel free to give feedback and as always, have a good day/night.