Past,
Present,
and Future
Past, Present, and Future © 2016 Karen Armstrong, writing as Karen Lofgren
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any way without permission.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by Loyalty Press
www.loyaltypress.weebly.com
Also By
Karen Lofgren
Novels:
Imagine Someday
The Brooch of Storisvaria*
The Souls of the Stars
December
July*
Collections and Standalones:
Hobo Zombie and Other Stories
Past, Present, and Future
The Profane and the Sacred and Other Stories*
*Forthcoming from Loyalty Press
Past,
Present,
and Future
Karen Lofgren
Loyalty Press
To everyone who has ever needed someone and to all who have been that someone.
The first time it happened, Melanie Geyer had no idea what was going on. One moment, she’d been at home, unable to take her mind off her freshman move-in day at Grinnell College in two weeks. The next, everything went fuzzy (she almost threw up from the sudden nausea) and she found herself in Victorian London.
She glanced around, thinking she must have fallen asleep or was experiencing a stress-induced hallucination. After all, something as absurd as time travel just didn’t happen. But her rational mind told her neither of those explanations were true. Her surroundings were more vivid than any dream she’d ever had. Hell, this was more real than any living historical site her family had dragged her to when she’d been a child. Her father had always been obsessed with those things. The stench reached her nostrils and made her stomach roil, the smoke, soot, and smog making her cough.
Melanie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again. The same scene greeted her.
She was standing on some narrow street, old, dilapidated buildings lining either side. It was nighttime, but some people were still meandering about. She guessed this wasn’t one of the more prosperous areas of the city.
Thank God I’m wearing a longish skirt, she thought to herself. On a whim, she had decided to wear one that day. Had she been wearing pants, she would have stood out even more.
Taking another deep breath, which she instantly regretted the moment the putrid odor filled her nostrils, she started forward, hoping to do, what, exactly? Figure out if she really had traveled through time? That much, it seemed, was obvious, no matter how much her current circumstances seemed to have come out of a bad science fiction novel. Seriously, everyone wrote about Victorian England. What about Taisho Era Japan or India at the time the Mahabharata was written?
Fighting down the rising panic in her chest as the seconds continued to tick by with no change in her present situation, Melanie suddenly realized how ungodly cold it was and started down the street, looking for somewhere to take shelter. Her breath misted in the sooty fog that smelled suspiciously like human stench. She couldn’t help but wonder, as she looked up at the chimneys decorating the skyline, if this fog would be a lot less thick if there were fewer chimneys in this place.
A warm-looking, welcoming shop adorned the corner of the street Melanie had found herself on, and without thinking much she started towards it. The intersecting street seemed to host a lot more traffic than the one she had just walked down, but the sun had set and few people, even less who appeared to be respectable members of society, were milling about.
She glanced at the street and at the shop, wondering whether or not she should go in. She hated doing stuff like this. She’d infamously not asked for help after breaking her arm on the playground in first grade, instead going off to the corner of the schoolyard to cry about it until a teacher had found her. A chill wind that whipped down the street, given strength by the buildings on either side, made Melanie’s mind up for her. Gathering her courage, she opened the wooden door, adorned with a large glass window in the center, and entered.
Oh, it was warm. Gloriously warm. Suddenly finding herself oddly tired, she had half a mind to curl up right there on the entrance mat and go to sleep. But an elderly man sat behind the counter, and she decided it would be beyond unacceptable to fall asleep at the front of his shop. So she forced herself to walk around and look at what the store had to sell, soaking up the warmth provided by the roaring fire in the back of the room.
It appeared the store peddled in all kinds of knickknacks – mainly jewelry boxes. Every piece looked nice to her – she couldn’t tell what kind of clientele would be visiting this shop in the Victorian Era, though she was relatively certain it wasn’t the nobility.
“Are you lookin’ for something special, miss?” the owner asked, not impolitely, though his gaze concerned her. He seemed to sense there was something off about her. Probably, she thought sarcastically to herself, that I don’t look like I’m out shopping. No coat or boots were bound to make anyone look suspicious.
“Just browsing,” she answered as cheerily as she could.
She hadn’t thought anything of it, but the man’s brows rose as he caught her accent, or lack thereof. “I haven’t seen you around here before,” was all he said.
She thought fast, knowing any hesitation would instantly fuel his suspicion. “I’m visiting a friend of mine,” she said, hoping he didn’t press further. “I’m from America.”
“I see, I see,” the man replied.
Melanie had wanted to avoid the side of the shop where he was standing, but something over there did catch her eye and so, in order to keep up appearances, she went over to look at it. It was a pretty silver brooch that had some kind of blue stone embedded in it. Not being a jeweler, she couldn’t tell if it was really a sapphire or not, but it was sure pretty. She gently picked up the brooch and examined it, thinking that she had warmed up enough and should take her leave.
“A young man brought that in the other day,” the man commented. “Quite a fine piece.”
So was this some sort of pawn shop? “Yes, it is,” she agreed. She then looked at the price and feigned disappointment. She wasn’t even sure how much it was in British currency, or how much that amount converted into modern pounds might be, but it would give her an excuse to leave without buying anything.
“If you’re interested, I’m sure we could come to some sort of… arrangement,” the man said. Melanie glanced up at him, and had to hide her reaction when she realized one of his eyes was glass and looked rather creepy. The skin on his face had several sores that seemed to indicate ill health.
Catching herself staring, Melanie opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a new voice nigh on bellowing from the back of the shop.
“You promised me you wouldn’t sell that for another week!” Melanie turned, startled, to see a boy - he couldn’t be older than thirteen - standing there. He must have come in through another entrance in the back, because unless he was a world-class ninja, he couldn’t have gotten in through the front door without Melanie or the owner noticing.
The old man’s face turned ugly fast. “You are NOT supposed to be in here during business hours.”
“It was cold outside,” the boy replied.
“I don’t care,” the man said through his teeth. “If the young lady wishes to buy it, she may.”
An angry cry tore from the boy’s throat as panicked tears formed in his eyes. “You promised!”
Faste
r than Melanie could blink, the boy jumped forward and grabbed at the brooch. Startled, Melanie instinctively dropped it on the lace-covered table and backed away, letting the boy have his prize, which he scooped up and held to his chest defensively.
Melanie looked at the boy, and he stared right back. There was anger and fear in his eyes, but his body language told a different story. He was on edge, and tenser than just about anyone Melanie had seen before in her life. His teeth were clenched but his lower lip trembled slightly. Pure, utter desperation.
“William!” the man cried, starting forward and snapping the moment in two. For the first time, Melanie noticed that the shopkeeper seemed to be a little tipsy. It was the last thing Melanie heard and saw before the world grew fuzzy around her and dissolved as if it hadn’t existed at all.