Freeze Frame

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Have you ever wanted to rewrite history? Rewind time? Have you ever wanted to take the past and erase it? She has the power... she doesn't want it.

Submitted: March 03, 2010

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Submitted: March 03, 2010

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I can’t stop it. It takes over every cell of my body, slowly washing away my body from my fingers to my toes, the ends of my hair, until my eyes vanish, and then I’m in darkness. A sick, twisting feeling grows in my stomach, until I’m set in a new environment, surrounded by a new time. I travel. I switch ages, eras, minutes and days, and can never stop myself.
I’m a time traveler.
And I can’t control it.
And now, I watch as I hold my hands out, they seem to dissolve into the air. My heart leaps in my chest, and I try to shake off the disappearing, but it only climbs higher. The absence of most of my body fills my to the top, and I try to scream, to make myself stay, but I know it won’t help. The tingling sensation of changing creeps up my neck, and soon I see the too familiar blackness swirling around me.
It wisps away as soon as it arrives, and I find myself stumbling down a street, trying to catch myself. Once I calm my thoughts and slow my feet, I steady my weight on both feet as I get a firm grasp on where I am.
The street is filled with people. But they don’t move.
Time is frozen tightly in together. I feel like I’m swimming in an old photograph. People stand in mid walk, talk and wave, cars that were speeding before I froze them now in a blur. Like wax figures set up in a false city. Judging by their fashions, I see that it’s about the 1970’s, or maybe late 60’s. On Main Street.
Freeze frame. It’s what I call this stage. Because, of course, it would appear strange for someone to randomly appear in the middle of the street without giving them a warning. These frozen people aren’t aware that they’re frozen. I simply slowed time down to such a degree that they don’t even realize it. If that’s even possible.
Time unfreezes faster than it froze, and I find myself stumbling again as the air moves faster around me. A car behind me screeches to a stop, and the driver starts yelling at me. I turn and give him a sad, apologetic look, and start in a run down the side of the street. Pushing past people, the buildings start to blur as I run faster.
Stage 1 – Travel Unwillingly.
Stage 2 – Freeze Frame
Stage 3 – Try to Get Back
But unfortunately, the third stage rarely ever works. I have learned to go fast enough, to keep running until my own time speeds up, and travel back to my own time.
I push harder, trying desperately to run faster, sweat beading at the roots of my hair. My arms pump at my sides as people complain at me, threatened at being shoved out of the way. I shoot apologies here and there.
Even my presence changes the ever thin fabric of time. I can push someone into another person, and they could very well be my great grandparents. And if I don’t push them, I won’t exist. Or they could be the killers of my mother, and I might have just lead them to their reason.
A sick feeling reaches into my heart, tugging hard. My eyes start burning, but I swallow my pain and keep running. I reach the end of the street, make a quick turn and slam hard into somebody. The impact knocks me off my feet and back into the street, and I gasp quickly and then stop myself. I look up at him from the ground, and then whirl around to see another car screaming to halt.
The metal stops about an inch from my nose.
The driver and the person I ran into are yelling, and the driver gets out of the car. I brace myself for a fight, or at least an argument, and push myself off the hard street.
I know that this time I won’t make it back, so I’ll have to make a stand. History wants me to change something. To fix something that went wrong.
So I clench my fists, and take one hopeful, deep breath.


© Copyright 2020 MegLou. All rights reserved.

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