Day 50 – The Girl Who….

Wanted Day 50 to be a lot better than this one, but such is life.

Word count: 1183

Alice stepped back, “What do you mean, you’ve known me your entire life?”

Monty turned on his heel and hung his head low, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Is there something going on here that I should know about?” her words echoed down the empty cavern, flowing on into a seeming eternity, but dwarfed by his resounding hesitation.

Monty kicked the stones on the floor of the cave and sighed. His time manipulator once more began to beep and blink. “It’s not charging,” he changed the conversation with dramatic concern. He knelt down beside the cave wall and pressed his ear to the cold stone.

“It seems all right, I think,” he knocked on the wall and spread his hand out and stroked the rock before talking to the manipulator directly, “Why are you not charging? You should be charging?”

“Monty,” Alice gulped, fearing the answer she knew he was hiding, “Why do I mean so much to you, why do you know everything about me?”

Alice felt as if the cave roof was descending to crush her. The intensity of his silence was crushing her heart. She was starting to shake with fear and the rapid realisation of where she was in the universe. All her life she had only ever been the girl who was slightly above average at maths; the little seven year old who used to pretend that she could move objects with her hands and control peoples minds; the obscure teenager who cared more for physics than she did for food. Alice was the one that everybody would neglect to remember, forever forget; the last in line and the first one to leave the party. But now she was standing in the cavern of some far off world she could never point to in the night’s sky. Forty thousand years into the future – forty thousand years of the human race’s evolution; the universe expanding and expanding whilst the sands of time swept ever onwards through the desert of the cosmos: and here she was breathing in the cold foreign air and wondering why the man before her knew everything about this obscure and lonely girl.

Alice was visualising the cogs of Monty’s brain grinding together as he thought of a way to reply.

“Alice,” Monty said carefully and still turned away from her, “Alice do you trust me?”

Alice was primed for a quick reply, but his question stumped her. Did she?

“Well?” he urged her.

Alice thought deeply about it. She thought about the man that had woken her in the middle of the night. How long ago might that be now? An hour, forty thousand years? Which measure of time was real, which one was the fixed element in the equation?

“Yes,” she found her heart stealing the decision from her mind. “I trust you.”

He glanced over his shoulders, “Then don’t ever ask me anything like that again.”

“But you told me you knew everything about me? How can I just ignore that?”

Monty continued to fiddle with his manipulator and completely ignored Alice.

“Monty, answer me!”

She heard him muttering under his breath. Anger was bubbling up inside her and threatening to burst out at any second.


He wheeled around and their eyes locked into place. Rage ripped through his retinas and stared right into Alice’s bitter irises.

“Just forget it, just forget it! I shouldn’t have said anything. You wouldn’t understand!”

Alice scowled at him, “Wouldn’t understand? Fine.”

Leaving a cloud of dust in her trail, she marched on into the darkness of the cavern before her. There was barely any light. The darkness was suffocating. With her arms stretched out she tried to break into a run before Monty could catch up with her. There was no way of knowing if the next centimetre contained space of stone, but her anger was so consuming that alien world or not, she could not stand to be near Monty.

Alice need to get home. Her weary eyes yearned for her own bed, her own pillow. It was then she realised that she was still in her pyjamas.

Was this a dream? Was this not just some whimsical fairy tale that her mind was leading her along to pass the time of night? Perhaps any second she would wake from this reverie to her own cosy duvet and feather pillows and it would be morning and the sun would maybe creep through the curtains in a dangerous effort to wake her from her slumber? But Alice could feel mud slipping through the cracks between her toes and drops of water began to drip steadily from somewhere above. Behind her Monty was crying out her name and she could hear his footsteps gaining on her.

Then suddenly there in the passageway ahead she could see a sliver of light. It was but a tiny slice of hope, but Alice was willing to bet her life on reaching it. The air was dank and humid. From somewhere nearby she could hear a dull humming. The light was now only a matter of metres away and the ground beneath her feet was once more beginning to harden. Still, behind her, Monty cried out her name in vain.

She reached the light. It lit up a small peculiar desk-like feature of the rock. Brighter though it was, it was still too dark to make out much detail. There were objects on the desk – scattered and littered. They could be rocks for all she knew, but there was one object that had caught her eye the second she had seen it. It gleamed like a beacon to the past. It was brighter than any sun and it shone with familiarity as bright as any summer’s day.

Alice’s thoughts seemed snatched from her. Her conscious mind was doubting what her eyes were seeing. Dream though this may yet be, the tiny little object made her grasp on to the alien world a little while longer. Scared and frightened, she reached out a hand to pick up the tiny red book. Her heart sank as her fingertips registered the old familiar texture, the weight, the touch. There was not a doubt in her mind as to what it was, but she opened it and turned through the pages regardless.

Streaks and streaks of the same messy handwriting clogged the pages of the diary. But she didn’t need to read the indecipherable scrawl to know what the words said.


Monty had found her.

Tears were streaming down her face. Her teeth were clenched in anger and unfathomable disarray.

“Alice…” his voice had now melted into concern once more.

Alice knew he could clearly see what she was holding in her hands.

“Alice don’t…”

“Don’t what? Don’t be frightened, confused, angry, lost, anxious?” her words were mottled by a fresh waterfall of tears.

“Alice, please -”

“No. No is the answer to your damn question. No I do not trust you.”

“I know I don’t deserve it -”

“Monty… why…. why do you have my diary from when I was nine years old?”

~ by S.G. Mark on November 26, 2011.

3 Responses to “Day 50 – The Girl Who….”

  1. ooooooooooo

  2. palpable suspense/ exotic & mysterious/ hope to see more

  3. This is why I wear football shorts and a t-shirt for pyjamas!

    I’m hooked ❤

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