Tag Archives: time travel

Glass #writephoto

glass

Photo by Sue Vincent

Jay looked across the lake at the distant mountain. Nothing was moving over the glassy water.

Good.

He slipped the kayak into the water, stepped in placing his little backpack on the floor between his legs, and pushed off. After a couple of hard paddles to get the boat’s momentum up, he relaxed into a routine of gentle, quiet, yet efficient strokes.

Silent. That was the key word. Didn’t need anyone to hear, and there were a lot of ears, not to mention the Guardian.

After several minutes, Jay glanced back. The kayak created a small wake as it sliced through the smooth water. Eddies swirled where his paddle had pushed the water back, propelling his tiny craft. The shore was receding, but still near, too close. There was no movement, his theft had yet to be discovered. Continue reading

Timeless (Take 2) – #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

(Note: I was not happy with my original telling of this story.  And if I turn it into a longer work, I need to change it. Here is the original.)

Black. It wasn’t the absence of light, because light could not exist.  It was the absence. The absence of everything.  Of light, of space, of time: there was nothing.

And then there was everything.

Everything expanded almost infinitely fast, though it didn’t, since time hadn’t ticked on yet and there was no space to travel. But then, in a small fraction of what some people would eventually call a “second”, the Universal clock ticked on and everything screeched to that ultra-slow speed that the stuff that would eventually be called light traveled.

Everything continued to expand at just below this new threshold.

He fell into this everything.

Again.

As he had before and as he would continue to do forever, as long as time existed.

He, of course, didn’t exist either.  Not yet.

He gasped for a breath.

Consciousness tried to fight its way to the surface, but was swallowed by the visions.

A thousand horsemen raced down onto the village, killing all in its wake.  The sea lapped peacefully on the shore as a few people wearing rough furs dug for clams. A spaceship left the sprawling city and descended out of orbit towards the blue Earth below.

He shivered. With the shiver consciousness finally won its fight.

He sat up, nameless, alone and naked.

Where was he?  When was he? Why here?  Why now?

He had slipped again, that was for sure. But he knew little else besides confusion.

The fog of his mind lifted.

It was a gentle field. His mind first spoke of northwestern Ohio, but then it settled into Brittany.  No, that was wrong.  Close, but wrong.

England.

A shape grabbed his attention.

He jumped up.

A Chorg!  They arrived in the 75th century.

But no, it was just a standing stone.  It had an odd angular pattern similar to a Chorg’s face, and bumps at the top like the eye stalks, but it was just a stone.

He walked over and touched it.

There was usually a reason for everything.  The stone most likely drew him in.

He shivered again.

He was always naked when he awoke from a slip.  How could it be otherwise?

There were voices.

A man and a woman were approaching.

Clothing always helped.  They were dressed for winter.  They were also dressed for the late 20th century or the early 21st.

Much experience taught him what to do.

“Hello,” he said in late 20th century English.  “I’m a bit confused. I have no idea where I am nor how I got here.  Can you help?”

The couple drew back, shocked at the appearance of the naked man in front of them.

“Please?” he said, his words a puff of steam in the frigid air.  “I’m lost and cold.”

He half smiled.

The man took off his coat and handed it to him.

“Let’s get out of this cold,” the man said, leading them back from the stone.

This was a routine perfected from countless encounters, a trick of the trade for the timeless.

But now he had hardened into a time and needed to figure out why.

***

Written for Sue Vincent‘s #write photo prompt.  See this week’s prompt here.

**

This is the second take on this story.  Here is the first.

**

This is now a serial story.  yes, again ;)

** First Chapter ** Next Chapter

*

Timeless – #writephoto

timeless

Time began from nothing.  There was void, nothing, and then grey as the Universe spun up.

Damn, I thought to myself, I must have slipped again.

It often took a few days to get my bearings again after a slip, but I’d start trying as soon as I totally regained consciousness and could see my surroundings.  I could be in luck and there could be something there telling me exactly when and where I was.

As the world slowly came into focus, I tried to remember where I had just been.

Ah, yes, China about 3,000 years before what came to be known as the Common Era.

No.  That was the last time. Continue reading

Buckle Up, My Dear

Through the portal

For some reason I had an idea about reading a want ad where you had to go to April 6, 1971 to answer.  I Googled April 6, 1971, and this story appeared out of nowhere….

***

It started when I was looking through a want ads page from a very Alternative paper, The Random Times.  I found all of the typical things, of course.  There were the hilarious, such as “Clairvoyant wanted.  But you knew that, right?”  No name or address or number given.  Others were chilling.  How about this?  “Are willing to do anything?  No qualms or regrets?  Sent to P. O. Box”  No need to fill in the rest.

I had The Rite of Spring playing very loudly as I read.  It made a great accompaniment to the words.  The rhythms.  Those big chords.  It was fitting.

I was about to give up with a laugh when one ad caught my eye.  “Prominent Time Travel Company looking for Time System Engineer.  Apply (address deleted by editor) between 1 PM and 3 PM on April 6, 1971.”

I searched the date.  In the music I was listening to, the sacrifice was being danced to death.  And then I saw it.  April 6, 1971, the day Stravinsky died.

The music ended and The Firebird came on.

Rebirth.

It was a sign. Continue reading

Portal – #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

I would have thought that the world’s oldest street, in continuous use for over 3,500 years, would have been easy to find, a major tourist destination, but all I received when I asked were blank stares and shakes of the head.  They would look at the entry in the guidebook and shrug.  There was no recognition.  The general consensus was, “No, that’s not here.”

I’ve always been mesmerized by the fleeting whiffs I would get of life at the edge of history.  From the circles and henges of Britain to the ancient ways of Aleppo, which I wandered before the civil war, I always get a feeling of belonging when I visit these places.  The tour hit many lesser known sites, but this was special.  “The world’s oldest street in continuous use”.  I ached to see it, to walk on it, to step on the same stones people sued thousands of years ago.

I was beginning to panic.  We were given only three free hours in this small city, which was ancient millennia before Rome was founded, and I knew the bus wouldn’t wait for me.  It had to be around.  Sure, my guidebook was an antique, but it had proven more accurate in these little towns that survived at the fringes of history than any of the modern name books or Internet sites.  I was sure this had to be correct. Continue reading

Book Review – The Yearbook

 

yearbook

“The Yearbook” by Carol Masciola

Lola Lundy was more than a misfit. After her mentally ill mother’s suicide she was hustled off from foster home to foster home, usually leaving by running away. She was a poor student who had a criminal record. Not edgy enough to be cool she just did what she needed to do to survive. Shortly after arriving in the Ohio rust-belt city where her mother had ended her life, Lola slipped into the school library in an attempt to escape attention and be left alone. This was the start of an adventure that thrust her back to the town’s heyday of 1923 where she was different enough to gain attention. One of the people who noticed her was the handsome, studious Peter. Lola thought she had found her soulmate, but before she could go on she was whisked back to the present.

Was it a dream? Perhaps she was going insane, like her mother. Maybe she just needed a place of refuge where she could fit in and perhaps the still growing, clean city of the 1920s, where everything seemed possible, was just the place her mind needed to go. To Lola, however, it was perfectly clear. She believed she really did go back in time and was desperate to return, desperate to find her true love who she had left almost ninety years behind.

The Yearbook is a YA novel by Carol Masciola. It might be described as a time travel romance with a psychological edge. Continue reading

For a Slice

Kitchen Stove

“Hey boss, I think we’ve got a problem with Timmons,” Javal said. “He seems to be making personal use of company equipment.”

“What’s up?” Ms. Creethers asked.

“Well,” Javal said, “you know how Timmons takes a walk every day after lunch? He may be doing something else besides walking. His route passes through the wave interference lab, which shouldn’t be a problem since the equipment’s shielded. However, security was reviewing yesterday’s records and noticed a 12 nanosecond disruption of Timmons’ signal as he walked through.” Continue reading