Formerly the trappings of an aquanaut, my containment suit was a most uncomfortable means of surfing time. As already mentioned, the weighted, steel boots I had secured to the tiled floor allowed for no lateral movement. Good, because if they had, there’d have been no telling where I may or may not have materialised, or, rather, what may or may not have materialised within me.
My whole theorem was that time should move around me rather than me through time. If I had interfered with said time, the consequences to myself would have been dire. Or so I reckoned, anyway. Better to be safe than sorry in matters of life and death.
The mahogany lever attached to my left leg was now in the fully vertical position, which allowed my suit to fill with the chemicals required to facilitate my extraction from reality. They bubbled, fizzed and rapidly expanded from the inert lake around my knees to a volcanic brew that raced through the suit. When the liquid reached my mouth, I panicked. Who wouldn’t have? However, by then, it was much too late to go back.
To Be Continued…
Time looped, whilst I remained immobile. Bolted to my laboratory floor, the temporal suit, my greatest invention, allowed its occupant to experience the universe as only a god should.
I had strapped myself in with the harness made from a horse’s reins; the leather worn but strong, then dared and double-dared my brain, who rebelled at the time, into adjusting that last lever. I had, of course, placed a self-explanatory note on the mantelpiece addressed to my dear Gwendolyn. Resting against the carriage clock we had purchased with our joint savings on first moving into our home, it symbolised our love. My wife, however, had not the same propensity for knowledge as I, instead, preferring happiness over the pursuit of answers. I could not be happy without knowing the answers, and so a stalemate was reached. She would never have truly understood.
My fingers grasped the mahogany lever carved from the leg of a favourite bureau; it felt real in a world that was not. A final glance to England’s monarch, Victoria staring out from her portrait like a doom-laden soothsayer, and I was ready. I pulled the lever.
To Be Continued…
Author’s Note: I’m pleased to announce the release of Once Upon A Broken Dream. This is a Science Fiction and Fantasy anthology I’m lucky enough to have a short story included in, and has just gone live on Kindle. My story, Sapphire Heartbreaks, is a look into the alternate Victorian world of my future releases. I hope you enjoy it.
Here is the synopsis:
Dragons, magic, fairies, angels, vampires, knights, a gollum, a vengeful child’s toy, a depressed cashier, a bridge made of stars, and a donkey… What do they all have in common? An appearance in this anthology.
This collection of short stories is as diverse as the Creativia authors who wrote them. Travel to Victorian London, an otherworldly slave market, a faraway planet, a quaint English town and other wondrous places in the pages of Once Upon a Broken Dream.
The price is ridiculously cheap, so if anyone is after a good read, this should fit the bill.
Here is the Link: Once Upon A Broken Dream
Thanks for reading
A dagger grin flashed from between crimson lips. He indicated to where the others couldn’t see right behind the sun catcher, to the summit of that blazing, reflected beam. The device, his device, burned heaven. An almost perfect match to his shed skin, the universe was no longer black but crimson.
Our so-called saviour laughed and pointed even shaking my hand like a long lost friend. His adulation knew no bounds, his behaviour, manic. He danced and pranced on cloven feet, then jigged about for hours. As those below were washed away, he grew euphoric.
“A second flood,” he hissed. “My flood,” he crooned. “At last. At last.”
The angels fell like cooked chickens thrown from a barbecue onto the devil’s plate. In great hissing piles, they landed in the flood drowning before their tormentor. He loved every moment.
The universe an inferno, the last to fall was God himself, his beard aflame, his hair ignited. And though I wept, and though I screamed, the rain kept coming and the devil had his revenge.
Rain, rain go away, come again another day. The lyrics to the old nursery rhyme spiralled though my mind in endless revolutions. No one else seemed to care that the land couldn’t take it. The waters rose inch by inch, the others sploshing around in bare feet, regardless.
Those days of endless water were the worst. It wasn’t the water per se, nor the expressions that morphed from glad to gloom to grey, but our mysterious benefactor. He sat legs crossed on a hilltop overlooking the town, his eyes glued to the sky as though the clouds were no obstruction. Not once did he move. Not once did he shift an iota.
For reasons beyond explanation, I found myself climbing that hill to nowhere. I stalked our savior like a cat a mouse. When at last I drew close enough, bereft of places to hide, he turned my way and smiled. When I looked up, I saw why.
To Be Continued…
His contraption rose from the barren earth like God’s greatest sunflower. A peculiar device of a single giant stem crowned with a great dish of reflective, polished metal, the sun catcher, as our saviour called it, was levered higher and higher into the sky. He stood back instructing us never once lifting a finger to help.
It took days to get the infernal device into the right position. We made adjustment after adjustment until at last all was done, our master applauding us as though claps might go out of fashion. When he stopped, our world turned black.
He took the applause, our mysterious stranger, as the clouds gathered and the rains came. He basked in unadulterated glory. And all the while, as the others partied, I wondered where all that reflected sunlight went?
To Be Continued…
I had thought nobody capable of such a relentless barrage of inspiration. He cajoled and reaffirmed, appraised and approved, all us little people grateful for his attentions. In time, we came to demand his praise as if he was some minor deity on an undeniable upward curve to God, who in his so doing would drag us with him to incredible new heights. All the while, the sun smiled down. All the while, it burnt us.
He showed us his blueprints written in elegant script and full of every conceivable detail. We smiled and cheered; I even bought him a drink. Not one of us understood them. Not one of us had a clue as to what the sum of the whole would accomplish. Yet our messiah was a humble man and claimed he did it all for mankind’s betterment, that one day we’d sit by new rivers together and raise a toast to nimbus skies. Who could argue with that kind of humility?
I was sold. We were sold. Never once did we question him.
To Be Continued…