I’m going to defeat you with the power of friendship! … And this knife I found.
I’m sick and tired of being called ‘mortal’ like, you don’t know that. Neither do I. I have never died even ONCE. Nothing has been proven yet. Stop making assumptions. It’s rude.
Some of you may die, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
Not trying to brag or anything, but I can wake up without an alarm clock now simply due to my crippling and overwhelming anxiety, so…
It was not that long ago that I was like you. I woke when the rooster crowed or when the clock rang a long buzz. I can’t call it an alarm clock because that is so overstated in a mere buzz. But let me explain…
I was in an old historic town looking at cemeterys. Why did I think that was a nice way to spend my holiday? I guess because I like to take photographs of nothing important except symbols of life.
I was intrigued by this rather old clock in the window of a house where the window latches were hanging the wrong way and the door knob was at a very low level. It was as if the door and the windows were upside down.
I took a picture of the clock. I took another.
“That’s odd” I looked around to no one standing there. “The hands are moving backward.”
The pendulum was a very large spoon and it caught my reflection. When I moved away my reflection was still in the spoon. I was upside down. I looked around.
“This is rather odd. Isn’t it?” I called to a man across the street. “The hands are going backward.” I said much louder.
He shook his head and moved quickly the other way.
I went home not really sure what that had been about. Then I noticed the clock over my stove.
“Not working.” I flicked at the plastic.
Several minutes later I came back and the time had moved backward.
“That’s nonsense. Too much heat on my brain today.”
I set my alarm clock and fell asleep. A cat or something was screeching in the silent night fog. I turned on the light to see the time.
“What time is it Really?” I asked the alarm clock.
I called a service on my phone that would give the proper time. “The time is four twenty two…”
I called back ten minutes later. “The time is four twelve pm”
“How can time go backwards? Where does it end up? Is it going back for everyone?”
I lined up all the clocks in my house. I watched as each one worked backwards in time. I waited for the buzz that never came.
‘I wondered will I wake up from this? What will I happen when I wake up? What time is it really?????’
I hope the science guy can explain the portal cause it’s complicated. One time I can come across at the same point but now I have to go to a different clock and come thorugh the back way at 9 am. Right now I’m in 1991. I think this going back and forth is going to make my head spin. My husband is with Vlad. I’m glad we can help … I am happy to have such a well- stocked first aid storage.
I wrote a few more details in my journal before I stored it away. If I ever got back to a normal place in life, I want to remember as much about 1991 as possible.
My husband entered the room and we knew we had to tell each other everything we had learned or seen in double time before we returned across the portal. Too soon we heard Valeria at the door.
“Ready?” She said cheerfully.
“Yes.” My husband smiled.
“No.” I grimaced.
“Okay – Pashli. We go to the ground floor for the return clock. At exactly 9 am we must go up hotel’s back stairs and enter the hall with the carpet design from the other side. The rug design changes like before. Bon chance.”
We made the transition and quietly went to our room in 2022 before we were seen.
What I had learned was there was a stockpile of guns and ammo in 1991. My husband was told also to look for an old tunnel under Passage that had been used by the underground during World War 2 and the Cold War. This is where we hoped to make communication with Dmitre.
“Will our cells work underground?” I mouthed to my husband.
“We will see.”
“Hello,” one of the maids greeted us on the stairs as we were going out. Would you like your room…”
“No, thank you. not today. Tomorrow in the morning.” I gave her a little money.
The tunnel had been unused for quite some time. I was glad I had worn my winter hat so that my hair wasn’t covered in webs.
“The call is going through.” My husband whispered. “Yes, Dmitre. Is this a good time? Can you hear me, ok?”
“I understand that anything I need to relay to our “force” will go through you.”
“Yes. That’s what captain said.”
“For now, this is what we have.” He spent the next several minutes giving my husband coordinates and information about tank and artillery formation. He also noted that a Russian ship was on its way from Crimea to Odessa.
“Dmitre, be careful there are several reports…”
“Yes, we know. They are being very good about moving our location. We also will be switching to communication that is difficult to pinpoint. Today, you will be sent a device by courier. He will greet you the way we greeted in Uganda. Goodbye.”
“What was that greeting?” I mouthed to my husband.
“An elbow bump because of Co-Vid.” He smiled. “Let me take you to lunch lady with the webs.” He smiled as he grabbed my hand.
Later that day the courier met up with us. He delivered the new cell phone in a pastry bag with several pastries. We passed off a picture the children had drawn for their daddy that was in a visitor guide.
I saw the man that had been watching us. This time he looked straight at us with a dark intensity.
Has someone ever looked at you with an intensity that unnerved you???
Thanks for visiting Penned in Moondust by Moondustwriter. This month for the A to Z challenge I pulled out an archived story from 2007, dusted it off and reworked the year of entry 2022. This was originally written in Odessa, Ukraine. I hope you see the bravery and courage that I hope to convey in each episode.
Reflecting on a dear talented poet Jackie Dick who passed several years ago. We met in the blogsphere and I am glad we had a cherry blossom moment. This poem is dedicated to her and other poets who have taken flight.
I just read a blog by a blogger who was really pressing down on herself for feeling that things are so bad. They are and they are not. It’s a matter of perspective.
Something that helps so much is expression.
Blogging, art, writing are all forms of media that help us keep from that tipping point.
When I was very active on Social Media (sorry guys I am all over the world at the mo and so blogging is really a back door thing) I was meeting people coming out of Alcoholism, attempts at suicide, a divorce that drove the person batty…
there is that place to go to splash paint and get it off the head and heart.