The Time Traveller sat at the bar and watched the city burn through the plate glass window. The snooty establishment was empty, its occupants fled many days before. He had made a martini—shaken, not stirred—and lit up his favorite cheroot. A hard lifetime’s work was finally done, and he basked in the simple pleasures. The [...]
Entries Tagged as ‘the time traveller’
September 21, 2008
Blue Dreams
“When I bring up his father, he becomes very upset and says he is nothing like his father and goes home to drink, which makes him very much like his father.”
He snapped awake in the frigid night, chest heaving. Moonlight poured through the window into his small room, splashing silver light on his narrow bed, [...]
August 20, 2008
A Probability Game
The Time Traveller looked at his chronoscope, sighed, and twisted a dial. His self foamed across space-time, sudsing into a million-million worlds, as determined to be viable by his nifty gadget.
Fifty percent of these instances he stood in still sunlight that made his face glow with heat as he squinted into the epitome of commerce: [...]
June 18, 2008
How I Crack Myself Up!
One morning he came home from work looking ten years older, with faded scars where there were none last night, but his skewed grin was just the same, if not wilder. He burst through the door and grabbed her arms, and through softly stinking breath said, “Put on a pot for me, dear?” Then he [...]
March 11, 2008
All Mixed Up
A crush of movement. Strobing light and sound. Cellophane color music. Jerk and grind of bodies. Powdered nostrils and sweat beaded brows. The Time Traveller adjusts his lapels, flicks a wayward lock, bares a grin at nobody in particular, and checks out his chronoscope. He elbows his companion and says through white teeth more accustomed [...]
