I want to start at the beginning. Or is it the end.
You ever wake up in the night, stumble to the toilet and forget where you are. You spin around in the dark, fumbling for the sink or the door or the switch, but your hands just touch smooth walls, every bit the same. You’re feeling for that dent in the drywall where you slipped getting out of the shower, or the one tile that was always raised a bit more than the others.
We know where we are by the cracks in the walls around us.
It’s the same with time. You don’t remember the second Wednesday of a month. You remember the first time you saw Wendy, the time your Dad hit you for dinging his truck or when you watched the first Mars landing.
I can’t remember the weather the first day I hopped timezones. I just remember running. The forest behind my parents house was dark, the leaves thick on the ground and I remember wishing it had snowed. The forest was amazing in winter.
And then I tripped on a root and fell, my face hitting the soft powder after a heavy snowfall. The shock hit me. I rolled over, scrambling, and was back amongst the leaves. I made it back to my parents, the reason I’d ran long since forgotten, but they didn’t want to hear my words. For a moment I had been sure of myself, but I spent a much longer time doubting.
Seventeen and enjoying Summer break. Wendy Eastlock sat beside me. We were speeding down the M4. I’d been drinking, she’d been drinking. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I would spend the rest of my life with her. I swerved too fast, lost it, hit the divide at a hundred and flipped. I wanted to be home, back in the snow.
When I came to, the snow was mixing with my blood. Wendy wasn’t looking at me. She wasn’t looking at anything. I did three years in Brixton. I went home often, but I always came back. When I left those gates I had control of it, whatever it was. I wasn’t jumping to places, I was jumping through time.
I tried to go back. I did go back. In time, everything will happen and all things have happened. I saved her that night. The next week she killed herself. I’d got her pregnant, she couldn’t live with it. I tried. Over and over.
I broke the world.
Anything that made her unhappy I undid. I couldn’t recognise the world anymore. And still she wasn’t happy. I’d spent more time in the snow.
It’s been thirty years since I came into this world. My grey hair could be laughed off. The bad knees were bad diet. But now I can’t lie anymore. Nothing is right. Every time I go back I lose a bit more time. But there’s one last journey I have to make.
We’re speeding down the M4. The central divide is approaching.
I kind of forgot the original prompt half way through. Hopefully it still works.
Prompt originally posted by Unknown on reddit and received 2 upvotes.