I came to a halt as I see the grandfather clock towering over me. I gasped as I see it ticking rapidly. I'm going back in time. This isn't an unusual occurrence. On the contrary it happens every other month. But being a teenage girl going back in time to see your dead parents usually makes you want to burst into tears. The age of adolescence is a cruel curse, but being a timetraveler against your own will is horrible. Yoy could be in the middle of moving into a new bloody country, but that doesn't stop the tall clock to turn time.
Now, don't get me wrong. I love doing it occasionaly, but every other month? It's horrible! The ruddy thing can be the worst at times. As I felt myself being pulled into a mass of darkness, I dropped the box I was carrying. See, I was moving to a new country. I was moving to America, a ruddy country with states that look like bloody villages. Americans have no regard to anybody but themselves, being selfish little creatures. You can't blame them, it goes back to their ancestory. Stupid Columbus, stealing land from the Native Americans. I'd rather stay in a hut then be in this country of distibution.
I felt myself falling out of the fall from the sky. I hit the ground with a soft 'thud' and a grunt.My hands scraped the ground as I scrambled to get up. In looked around and saw that I was 3 years back in time, in my old home in London.