Mariam sat on a bench in an unfamiliar building staring at a pole with four strange circles surrounded by numbers. Where was she? Or more importantly, when was she? Nothing about this place was remotely familiar. Not even the history books she studied had anything in them resembling this place.
She looked around for anything that would indicate when and where she had landed. Above the pole a sign—Dupilo Station. A discarded newspaper on the floor. The date—December 31, 1957. Why did that name sound so familiar? And the date—should she know that? She closed her eyes and concentrated. There was something about this place. She couldn’t think what it was. Why? What is it? She shook her head. Nothing came to her.
The vibration on her wrist pulled her back to the present. Miriam lifted the watch and answered in a whisper, “I’m listening.”
Miriam rolled her eyes. The heat on her face let her know she was growing angrier by the second and she know her face must be as red as a beat. “I. KNOW. WHAT .MY. JOB. IS. You don’t have to tell me again. RECON. Always RECON. Review, Evaluate, Clarify, Observe, and Notify. Did I forget anything?” A slight pause. “I didn’t think so. Now let me do my job so I can return.”
Too bad she couldn’t end the call like her ancestors by slamming that telephone thing. It would really help with her frustration. Now to get the information she was after and get out—before something bad happened.
Something bad always happened. Trouble just seemed to follow her. That’s the reason she never got to participate in an active mission—it had to be. Another sigh.
Oh, no. Dupilo Station. It came to her. Miriam had to get out of there. Now. This is where everything changed. And the pole. It was a time device. Something her grandmother told her about ages ago. The clock was a popular meeting place. Meet me under the Dupilo Clock. This clock on a pole was something they didn’t have in her time. That’s why she didn’t place it until now. If she were right, he’d be here now. She turned and stared at the entrance. Like clockwork, he stood in the doorway.
Each week Soooz features an image and invites you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing. Maximum word count: 750 words.
Please put your piece (or a link to it) in a comment on Soooz’s blog or email it to her by 4:00 pm EDT on Thursday, August 13.
Subject: Fiction in a Flash Challenge. If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to Soooz’s blog page would be much appreciated.
She will be sharing all entries received, and, her own contribution on her blog beginning on Friday, August 14.