Short Story / Escaping the Future

I discovered time travel when I was just eight years old.

I still look back with fond memories at the days when I used to put on my helmet and pick up my sword and disappear under the table, through my secret time portal.

In reality my helmet was my mother’s collander and my sword, just an old wooden spoon. At the time, that collander had protected me from medievil mace and Norman arrows while my spoon was the fiery blade that ran through many a trecherous villain. That was my reality.

____

Now things have changed. I no longer sit below the strong oak table, now I sit on top of it marking essay papers on ‘The History of Mystics’.

A least that is what I should be doing, instead I am just gazing-like a simpleton-into space, wondering what went wrong. God knows something did. Maybe there was a fork in the road and I took the route signposted ‘Miserable Mediocrity’ and not the one to ‘Bright Horizons’.

Hang on a second, the phone is ringing-better answer it I suppose. I don’t really want to, but there is something about a ringing phone that means it just has to be picked up.

“Oh hello June it’s you again.”

June is my amazing ex-wife. She constantly amazes me with her blatent disregard for my life and my feelings. June is a vile and contemptable creature. It’s just a good job that I’m not bitter.

“I say, there’s no need to be quite so cutting… yes, I know we obviously don’t see eye to eye anymore, that’s the beauty of divorce… we don’t have to.”

Her retaliation is like a buzz. As if a bumblebee is trapped inside the receiver.

Truth be told we had never seen eye to eye. She just wanted a wedding and I was tired of looking for my Marion and just fell into it like the Fool that I am.

”..Yes, I am still here..”she continues to bluster.

____

When I was eight it was a forgone conclusion that I would simply defeat Robin and sweep Marion off her feet. But that would have to wait until after I had quashed the uprisings and vanquished the Vikings.

Half way through finishing off the Vikings I turned nine and grew too old for ‘silly games’. I hated being nine. I lost sight of my Marion.

“Yes, I am in all day, but I was hoping to get some work…”

Hung up, eh? Some things never changed.

A couple of years ago a happy man told me to hold on to my most treasured memories, because, as more and more good things happen, those older treasured memories can get pushed out of your mind.

I am not a happy man and since I turned nine there hasn’t exactly been a flood of good stuff to wash away that time-travelling eight year old. Just layer upon layer of dross.

I bet June’s on her way over now…she’ll be here in a minute, sharpening her knife…

The room is much different now as the raw sunlight thrashes its way through the curtains to bathe my old oak table, and the papers upon it, in glorious sunshine. It illuminates what I have become: the Evaluator, the Assessor. A Bored and possibly Boring Man.

______

That’s the door. Oh God! She’s here already. I wish I’d taken her key away… She’s in!

I need to escape all of this.

I can escape.

Before I do anything I’m gonna need my helmet and sword. There we are, fits just as if I were eight. Bit of a squeeze under the table these days but I make it into my portal and close my eyes.

Knock, Knock, Knock…

Here we go. I open my eyes to see June’s face as she bashes down hard upon the table top.

“Gareth, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m going back in time,” I answer…. and close my eyes.

ENDS.

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