First there was the van that mounted the pavement as I was walking down the High Street. If I hadn’t stepped into a shop doorway, I’d have been stuck to its radiator grill like a dustcart teddy.
Then there was the gargoyle. It had been on that church tower for 700 years before it smashed on the pavement half a metre from where I was standing.
Then, less than an hour ago, on the station platform, someone yelled, “Look out!” and I felt a pair of hands shove me forward just as the train was coming in. How I stopped myself falling in front of it, I’ll never know.
I went to a café, had a cup of tea and stopped shaking. Then I set off for home. I’d hardly gone a hundred metres when a silver Bentley Continental stopped right beside me and the passenger door swung open.
A voice from inside said, “Get in.”
Before I could even resist, a hand snaked out of the silver car, wrapping around wrist with a solid, iron grip. I screamed, toppling into the passenger seat with a thud as the door slammed behind me. Quickly, the driver revved the engine and sped of, resulting in me slamming into the back of the padded seat. I pulled my seatbelt on and with a satisfied click, the belt locked into position. Thoughts darted around my head like a caged bird, why was I here? Was I going to be OK? Was I going to...survive...? Briefly, I glanced at my ‘kidnapper.’ He had black hair, black as a ravens- exactly like mine. He had a small scar that ran from his eye to his hairline, puckered like an angry mouth. I shivered.
“Who are you?” I demanded, my brow creasing.
“Who are you?” He mimicked me. At least, that’s what I thought he was doing, until he glared at me and snapped.
“So, who are you?”
“Oh....I.....erm....”
“Speak up lad!”
“I am David Alan Nutroi.” I said slowly, unsure if he could use this information against me.
He grunted and I swear I saw a smile dart across his mouth.
“Call me Dan.” He said gruffly. I nodded and relaxed. This man looked like he would bare me no harm. We rounded a corner. I gasped.
“Are you a friend of my mums?”
“Aye lad. But much more than just a friend, I loved her dearly and,” he began to whisper and I saw a sheen of tears cover his eyes, “I’m sorry for us.” At first I was confused- us? - But my thoughts of blissfulness over-rided them.
I scanned my road eagerly as we the car ate away the distance between my home. I smiled. Just a friend of my mums, taking me home. Nothing could go wrong. I thought... but how wrong I was. I jumped out of the car. I smiled at Dan.
“Cheers!” I cried, happy to be safely home. Dan placed something my hand.
“Press it when all hope is lost...and I hope you can make sure that you never come here again.” he said seriously, dark eyes sad. He slammed the door and drove of. I turned to meet my house. My stomach twisted and my heart leapt in my mouth. A Police Tape ran around the perimeter of my home, waving in the forlorn breeze. My eyes welled and I fell to the floor. My head hit a sharp rock; narrowly missing my temple and nearly embedding itself in my eye. Tears and blood intermingling, entwining on the floor in a pinkish puddle.
It’s all over, I couldn’t go in there, and that’s what Dan must have meant... I unfurled my hand. A gadget, roughly the size of my hand, was nestled in my palm.
When all hope is lost.....
So I clicked it.
I fell, plummeting towards the earth, down, down, further than I ever thought possible. I suffered a sense of vertigo as I was thrust upwards and then there was just blackness. I awoke next to a van. I stood up, dizzy. I caught a look of myself in the mirror. I had a puckered scar running from my hairline to my eye. Oh My...! I understood then...Dan. David Alan Nutroi. Dan. Dan was me! I was Dan! I checked my watch. It was 11:20. I caught my train at 1:20. But how did that figure? Then it hit me like a bolt of lightning, the shock of it forcing me to my knees. Dan had said to make sure I never went home again so somehow- maybe with that gadget- he (or rather I) had sent myself back in time to stop myself getting there. But how was I going to stop myself? An idea surfacing, I got in the van- thankfully it was open! – and I turned the keys that had been left there. I drove down the road- looking for the figure. There. I drove onto the kerb, but the boy stepped into a shop doorway at the last moment. So I got out as quietly as I could and snuck towards the church. I climbed the steep steps, circling up and up. I forced myself onto the lip of the window, scaling the steep roof until I came to the gargoyle. It had been here for over 700 years so it was weak and crumbling. I pushed my body against it, grunting against the weight. Whatever happened, I couldn’t make myself face going back to my house again...
Spoiler
I wrote this years ago for a competition- the italics was the starter, and I wrote the rest. Enjoy!
