An Old Story About Time – 20 Minute Freewrite

Looking over all the little pieces of my past before traveling west, I stumbled upon this from October 29th, 2012. I’d like to share it with you if that’s all right. Let’s see if you spot the sentence homage to J. R. R. Tolkien’s “The Hobbit”. Guess I’ve had trouble sleeping for a long time.

I do not know who or what the characters are, because sometimes my stories write themselves, rather I like the writing to create the characters as the story develops. I do hope we’re not calling the topic of time travel overdone. We have only just begun.

‘Speaking of Time Travel’

“Stand down, Calliope.”
Alex held a colder feel than she had ever known.

Shrouded in darkness, his gun, cocked and aimed directly in line of the creature’s stomach if such a thing had contained one, his forearm trembling. The words crackled through her antiquated speakers, “Why?”

A crash, floor boards shattered in the crippling motion radiated by her protonic intensity. The man in black insisted. “Stand down Calliope. You are unauthorized in this sector.” He took careful attention to use his clauses and remained as tentative as possible; she was never taught, nor given the capacity for abbreviated speak. Her motives were built strictly for hostilities.

Another heavy blow to the floorboards. It hardly took a keen eye to spot the structure’s stability failing. Alex could feel the panic begin to take hold, but the sensation had overtly lost its novice spark. With a single motion as if practiced a thousand times, Alex ruffled the scruff of his hair line; blackened curls; silver white edges roughly to the shoulders, and thumbed within the recesses of his pockets as the ground beneath him began to rupture.

He sighed.

The motion coiled in fairly even bursts, as if the earth was swallowing all surrounding occupants deep into the under dwellings beneath. In the midst of heaving pandemonium, a snap almost incomprehensible to the human ear errupted faintly at its heart. Alex pressed a burning cigarette to his thinning lips, exhaled and smiled bitterly, “And here we go again, sweetheart.”

Going through the motions, he shut his eyes and waited for the day to begin again. The shock overtook him as a defibrillator would jolt and rattle a human body when actively strapped tightly to every known facet within it. The moment always appeared to last an eternity, suspended between death and a previous life; a fixed point where everything could no longer be.

When Alex finally came to, he wondered if he really had. The terror taken in by his departure amended heavily within his psyche. “I will not forget this time,” he cursed the words to himself.

Sounds began to re-appropriate first, the visuals still unrecognizable. His retinal synapses needed several more moments to readjust to the apparent time loss. Deep bellowing undertones permeated his ear drums, the waves rippled quietly at first. What is that incessant… the roaring of monsters? No, some sort of vehicle traffic? It’s muffled either way and my skin feels little resistance. There’s no wind here. I must be inside.

Alex had little time for patience, he had entered the same room too many times before. He was sure of it this time. Then why can’t I remember anything?

In frustration, the bamboozled figure attempted to gather himself, his vision still thoroughly enshrouded. Bloody fuck is this? The fuck can’t I remember? Perhaps it was the sheer force of confusion that lead Alex to thrust his extended head forward. He knocked himself hard against a smooth metallic surface. Stricken further off guard, collapse was inevitable, and backward he plummeted towards his original point of entry. It felt soft in comparison; the injury brought a hush of odd nostalgia back to him. Is this my bed?

As his eyesight re-constructed, the man in black caught the falling culprit in his extended hand — a globe, hand crafted entirely from sterling silver. A smile rinsed across the drab of his copper sleek. “New York City, Circa ’65,” Alex bit his lip by the husk of a sharper tooth and let the blood trickle down. He sighed again, “And it’s still here, two years before you.” The smile widened, he had long forgotten what his own blood tasted like. In short breaths, he spoke in echoed silence.
“This time Calliope, we make it right.”

That’s all for now, folks. Someday soon, I’ll write this into a full novel.

Thanks for stoppin’ by. Really, it means mountains to me.

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