Day 15 – The Girl Who Woke … Part 2

** Aunty Pat friendly! ** 🙂

Word count: 1180

The stars above twinkled with possibilities. Down below, revolving and hurtling through a tiny, insignificant stretch of space, the Earth hung in complete suspension from the rest of the chaotic galaxy. The sun would rise and the sun would fall; people would work and sleep, eat and drink; shop, give birth, die and dream. Their lives were laden with the toils of daily life and few ever looked up to the skies above; to the stars, the world beyond their own and wonder if by some strange and microscopic chance someone might be looking right back.

For Alice, still trapped in her bedroom at four in the morning, that tiny little miracle was happening right now and right there but inches from her own. Her body was as if poised on the edge of a cliff, preparing to plummet into panic when it absorbed what the man had just said. Her words were not so much lost but completely stolen from her. As she stared at the edge of his finger tip, pointing right up to the heavens, her heart thumped and thudded against her chest, daring to believe against all sense and reason….

“You’re mad,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“You actually need help…. I’m calling the police…” Alice raced back to her bedside table to reach for her phone.

“No, no, no, no, you don’t want to do that,” Monty chased after , “Bad Alice, no, no, please, please –”

Monty grabbed her arm, but she slapped it away. He reached around her waist and tried to grab at the phone, but she had somehow twisted her body around on him and kneed him in the chest. He recoiled and fell back, smashing his back against the wall and landing on the floor.

Alice snatched the phone and instantly began dialing, “You break into my flat, try and – and – and I don’t know what – then – tell me… you’re mad… absolutely mad…”

Her finger was on the call button. She could press it at any second now. But she looked down at him, pathetic and massaging a rapidly forming bruise in his rear. Monty looked up at her and simply watched.

The two of them observed each other, as if two hunted animals on the lookout for predators. Alice’s finger was hovering increasingly more indecisively over the button. Monty’s silence unnerved her. All rational thought was screaming at her, but there was a tiny murmur deep down tightening the reigns.

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because it’s impossible…”

“Is it? What if it wasn’t? What if I were telling the truth?”

“But you’re not. You’re not from – from –up there!” she pointed out the window.

“Well wherever I’m from, how on earth would I know that when you were eight years old you packed a bag and snuck out the window after your parents had gone to sleep because you thought they were holding you back? It was January and you’d only reached the end of the road when you turned back and thought things weren’t that bad after all. But you wanted to travel, you wanted to see the world already and you wanted to do the impossible…”

Alice’s hand was shaking now. It was like her entire soul had been wounded and was now bleeding out on to the floor. She felt exposed; naked.

“I – I’ve never told anyone that…”


“How… how did you know?”

Monty, still on the floor, knelt towards her, “Because sometimes impossible things do happen…. What if all the strange and weird possibilities you never thought could or ever would happen, did? What if the world suddenly stops spinning, what if the sun never rises, what if a strange man from beyond your solar system, four thousand years into your future, comes back and appears in your very bedroom and tells you something that happened to you when you were eight years old, something you told not a single person to but to a tiny little, insignificant little diary…”

From his back pocket he withdrew a tiny little red notebook and threw it at her. Alice caught it and her heart froze. The entire world stopped and time ceased to be. All she could do was stare at the tiny little red notebook and tremor. It had the same pencil marks on it; the same crease along the top corner. Alice walked over to her desk and pulled open the top drawer and took out an identical little red notebook with pencil marks and a crease in the corner.

“It’s the same,” she muttered.

“I know,” Monty replied, calmly.

“How is it the same?”

“It’s not the same, Alice. It’s exactly the same. It’s not just identical, they are both your diary.”

“That can’t be,” Alice began riffling through both notebooks. All the pages had the same handwriting, the same strange little blotches and scratch marks – the same little bits of fluff from where she’d erased what she’d written.

“It’s your diary, Alice. It’s your diary from four thousand years ago.”

Alice stopped flicking through the pages and looked right at Monty, shock now completely drowned by a fresh wave of incomprehension.

“Four thousand years ago, from where I’m from,” he continued.

Alice collapsed on to her bed. Was this a dream? Had all the studying, the pressure and the stress finally gone to her head? Was she going mad, or had she already reached there a long time ago and was now pushing on towards psychotic? Had she fallen into some deep nightmare, a lucid dream?

Something started beeping. Alice’s panic induced thought process was interrupted. The noise was coming from Monty. He was ignoring it though.

“That beeping?” Alice asked

“I know. It means I have to go now.”

“Go? Go where?”

“Back. Or, forward, for you.”

“But you’ve only just got here?”

“Yes, yes that’s true,” Monty rose to his feet and cupped her face with his hands, “I don’t have much more time…”

He turned towards her desk and ransacked it for a pen and paper and began scrawling something hurriedly on it. He then turned towards Alice, piece of paper scrunched in his hands, and touched her hair lightly.

“Please, no matter what happens, where you go, what you do with your life, how much you hate, how much you love, please – just do this one thing for the mad man that came into your room in the middle of the night and woke you from your pleasant dreams…”

Monty put the piece of crumpled paper beside her bedside table and stood back.

“I’m going now,” he murmured, as if something were gluing his throat together.

Alice reached for the paper.

“No – not now, not while I’m here…”

Alice stuffed it into her pocket and stepped right up to him, her face was just inches away from his. They both felt each other’s pulses quickening as she looked him dead in the eye.

“Take me with you,” she demanded, determination drowning every syllable.

“I thought I was mad?”

Alice grinned with frightening excitement.

“Aren’t we all?”

To be continued……

~ by S.G. Mark on October 22, 2011.

One Response to “Day 15 – The Girl Who Woke … Part 2”

  1. cooooool.

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