People often leave things on trains, sometimes you have an opportunity to call them and they retrieve it. By the way, my name is George Polgar.

On this occasion it was a large brown envelope, the owner arose from his seat opposite me, forgetting to take it with him. I called out, but he did not hear me, 'Excuse me sir! Sir you left something.' but he was in a hurry, so I grabbed it and followed him. However my speed was not as quick as his, the automatic doors of the train were closing, he had vanished among the many people on the platform outside the carriage, I was left holding the envelope as the train left the station, on top of that I had lost my seat.

Several times I muttered to myself, flapped the envelope as I did, I had another twenty minutes on this journey, and I was very tired.

When I arrived at my destination, Witherfall Station, I thought I would find some station staff and hand the envelope to them as lost property, it might be important. yet as I left the carriage I looked at the envelope and was intrigued, handwriting on the envelope said, 'Whoever finds this envelope please open it and read the contents.'

Rightly or wrongly I felt it referred to myself, as I had found it, thus being a curious sort I took the envelope home with me, intending to do just as it asked.

First things first when I walked through my front door was give a big sigh, 'Home at last.' Then I changed into some casual attire before I prepared a bite to eat. 

It was nearly 10pm, late, when I remembered the envelope and retrieved it from the hall next to my shoulder bag.

I read the words on the outside again, then decided to open it.

I felt inside it deserved a big drum roll, kind of exciting, yet as I did a thought flew over me, muttering, 'What if, what if.'

Setting aside nonsense I opened it. Inside was a letter with a key in a plastic bag attached to it. There was also another smaller envelope that was sealed, on the outside was written To Jean or George. I started to read the letter, as I did I was lost for words.

'We do not know each other, have never met you. I left the envelope with the intention of one person finding it. You are that one person.'

At this point began to feel uneasy, do not ask me why. Then as I read on, my unease was justified. the letter continued.

'My name is Arthur Polgar, I used to live at 27 Rubatton Drive in the town of Witherfall. I had to return this key, as it belongs to that address. I had way back in 1962 left home as normal, said goodbye to my wife Jean and my son George. However the work I was assinged as a government physics engineer decided to cause events that would change my life. The Zeta project, as it was called, went critical that day, I was immersed in a cloud of neutral atomic plasma. I called out time and time again for help, no one came. The cloud dispersed and I found myself in a hospital, the likes of which I have never seen. I was told I had recieved injuries from a fall, but was fine and could leave.

Now when I did leave, I almost went crazy, my sanity was about to leave as well. I was lost, wherever I was, it was not where I had been at Sellarfield. I guess I fortunate I already had a beard, so you see no one would notice as I lived rough for a few days, I was trying to work things out. This Arthur is pretty all together most times, this time I was confused. To cut a long story shorter than is needed, I found myself in the year 2034, April 12th to be precise.

I found some work, needed somewhere to live, but dare not say a word to anyone, I was begining to believe I was nuts, what would they believe.

Five years down the line I learned through research that I was presumed dead way back in April 1962 after an explosion at Sellarfield evaporated a research building. Where I was found was the same location that Sellarfield should have been.

Since all this research I have returned to that area several times, three times on the same day, same time.  Each of those times I saw a moment when a mirror like hole appeared, it lasted for several seconds, then appeared to vanish.

Mad as a hatter, as I have always been, I went back on the same day around the same time. This time I calmly walked into the mirror like hole, believed it could take me back to 1962, thats a laugh. Well it took me somewhere in time, but only 19 years back, and outside Hertfordshire, Elstree. It did no good to my skin, I was badly burned in various places.

I have one wish to know what happened to my wife, Jean, and my son George, he was 9 in '62, my god he would be in his early 60's now.

My life has been hell from the burns, but help has been good. I have one wish, whoever finds this envelope, reads this letter, please take the key to 27 Rubatton Drive Witherfall, maybe Jean, or George are still there. Give them the other envelope inside, its personal, I miss them but I am a mess, cannot see them like this, I am old and tired. Love never dies.

Thank you

Arthur Polgar

As I finished reading the letter I became frantic muttering over and over, 'That guy, that guy was my father.' I sobbed bitterly. Travelled that way many many times, never seen hime again.