The Time Machine Strikes Again (Pt 3)

28 04 2010

The story continues.

I gasped unintelligibly for several long moments. Richmond’s eyes crinkled at the corners but his mouth stayed severely immobile. My scattered wits gathered together like birds slowly coming to roost.

“Richmond what are you doing here?”

“Ah, my dear Viktor. I am growing old. A fate one cannot escape no matter how far into the past one travels.” He turned to face the fire, leaning on a staff I had not noticed before.

As the amber light fell on his face it carved out deep crevices around his eyes and mouth. Wrinkle upon wrinkle cast stark shadows on skin I had only known as smooth and young. It was a disconcerting sensation to see age where I anticipated only youth. My eyes traced his face, following lines and curves with the desperation of a lost man looking for a map. But his face gave me no clues, just line upon line leading back into the labyrinth of lost time.

“It must be a shock for you, seeing me like this and seeing me here, heya?” Even his voice had changed, mellowing and deepening into a cadence and accent unknown in modern Britain.

“Yes.” I swallowed hard. “That hardly begins to describe my surprise. We thought you dead. I was sure of it. There was blood on the Machine and no trace of you. To find you at all was unlooked for- how did it happen that we are both here? I mean here and NOW?” Read the rest of this entry »

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The Time Machine Strikes Again (Some more)

27 04 2010

Part Two

It took me a painfully long time to find an open space from which I hoped to observe the stars. When I did stumble into an open area it took every ounce of my remaining strength to stay standing. The sun was setting behind me and the shadows of the trees stretched across an open, cultivated field. Rows of corn poked through dark soil and a cow grazed near me, staked to a convenient tree. She raised liquid brown eyes and lowed at me peevishly. Neither the corn nor the cow gave me any reason for concern. The castle perched on a low mound overlooking the fields, however, stopped me cold.

I gasped a few times and strained my eyes to the far horizon. I saw nothing save the castle and a few dirty hovels huddled around its’ walls or scattered among the fields. My mind swam and I searched again but saw trees and the impossible castle smack in the middle of what should be Surrey.

The dirty, rag-clad peasantry tramping toward the castle were the last straw. I sat down hard on the grassy border of the wood. It was as though I had stumbled into a medieval work of fiction and the strength flowed out of my bones. I had not, then, traveled forward in time. Somehow the wretched machine had dumped me in the Dark Ages. Read the rest of this entry »





The Time Machine Strikes Again

26 04 2010

Based on a story suggestion courtesy of Jenn Sansom. Extra points if you can identify the two specific allusions to the original book.

My name is Viktor San Margolis and it was not my intention to come to this place.

I blame Richmond. When he left the machine to me he neglected to include any of his notes. Without his notes and diagrams I was in the dark when it came to properly setting the controls. Also to blame is my own intelligence. After a lifetime of being correct I was not prepared to be wrong during the most important experiment of my life.

I’d always known about Richmond’s work. I helped sketch out the first few casings for the Time Machine when Richmond was visiting me in Austria. He was always a terrible draftsman. I was more than pleased to leave him to his tinkering, as I mistakenly assumed that he was a lovable idiot and would fail. When I received the news of his demise I was shocked. We may never know where or when he ended up. What we do know is that he disappeared and only the Machine remains to attest that he ever lived. The authorities assumed he had died on a journey overseas. When I was notified of his “death” and came to Surrey to tend to his final affairs the Machine was the first thing that I investigated. I saw the tell-tale blood stains, and the utterly foreign soils and plant matter clinging to the casing. I knew then that he had succeeded. Read the rest of this entry »





Today I remembered the juice

18 04 2010

This blog has become my virtual equivalent of a summer cabin. I visit occasionally but only long enough to wish I’d changed the curtains three years ago. I know it’s nice here. The trees are beautiful and the lake is full of exceptionally stupid rainbow trout. It’s warm and comfy and I brought lots of hotdogs and firewood.

But then I have to leave again and I forget how nice the breeze is and how stupid the trout are and all I remember is what a stinking long drive it is to get here.

In case you got lost in the metaphor I will repeat that this blog has become practically abandoned.

Apologies. Summer cabins and blogs should be visited by their owners more than once a year.

Life continues apace. On the “doing” level I’m working and taking ballet classes and learning to play the piano. I babysit occasionally and enjoy trips to the library for books and movies. Additionally, Michael and Jadon are in town and I love it! I miss those guys when they’re not around.

On the “being” level things are more complicated. I’m very content here in Seattle, doing my “little” things. I’m not changing the world but I’m happy. My greatest struggle is to not let myself become convinced that being here makes me lazy or wrong or [substitute guilt-inducing religious adjective here]. The problem with being me is that I am mentally wired to accomplish. I like checklists and expectations and DOING stuff. Even not-doing becomes doing and learning to just go with Him is HARD.

If loving Jesus were a ladder instead of a river I would be much easier in my mind.

The dreams haven’t changed. I’m still happiest when being creative. For now, though I’m content to be here and look forward to whatever God has in store for this next season.

Oh… and tonight I remembered to bring my juice home from work. My brain hasn’t rotted yet!