Category: Fantasy Publisher: Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing
Type: Fiction
Pages: 21
Copyright: 2013
Price: $0.99 (eBook)
Liz wished she could go back and do it all again.
After all, it was Liz’s fault her mom was dead…or so she believed. Had Liz not delayed her, her mom never would have been killed by that car. And as the twentieth anniversary of her mother’s death came around, Liz could not help but wish it had been her instead. That is, until a gentlemen sits next to her on the park bench. He tells her his story, and she feels strangely compelled to tell him hers, but when he leaves her his pocket watch as a gift, she cannot believe what is happening. Only this isn’t just any watch, as she soon discovers, and she is pulled back in time.
Are events coincidental, even random? Or is there a perfectly timed symmetry yet to be lived? The possessor of the Orah is the only one to know.
Excerpt
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“May I?”
“Hmm?” Liz turned her head.
A man stood at the other end of the park bench, pointing to it.
Sitting up, she slid back in her seat. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. I must have been off in my own little world…or something.”
He continued to stand by the bench.
“Oh.” She laughed. “Of course. Please do, be my guest.”
He tipped his hat, and grabbing the armrest he eased himself down onto the wooden slats. “When just sitting and standing up becomes a chore…” He sighed.
He couldn’t have been more than thirty-five, and yet he moved like an old man as he seated himself on the bench.
For a moment he just sat with his hand pressed to his knee. He reached into his overcoat pocket and pulled out a small, brown, paper bag.
Carefully, he unfolded it; slipping his hand into it he then withdrew a fist full of popcorn.
He tossed the popcorn at his feet, where a small flock of pigeons had already gathered, the birds scurrying frantically, each pressing against the other in an attempt to gather whatever morsels they could. “They’re wonderful, aren’t they?”
Liz glanced at the birds, but all she could see was a scurrying mass of noise.
“Gus.” He thrust a hand out at her.
Gripping his hand, she shook it. “Elizabeth Shore.”
He tipped his hat once more, the corners of his mouth curling up. “I used to come here every Sunday, the wife and I, and we’d sit on this bench. But…once you get married things get busy and you don’t have time anymore.”
She nodded, dropping her gaze. “I used to come here every Sunday too. Well, my mom and I…and we’d sit on this bench.”
He tossed another handful of popcorn at his feet. Once more the birds scurried frantically. “Used to?” He paused. “That was none of my business. I don’t know why I ask such questions.”
“No, it’s all right. I don’t mind.” It surprised her, those words coming from her. She had never shared such personal thoughts with anyone before, and especially not with a stranger. But there was something about him.
“You’re smiling.”
She looked at her hands within her lap. “We’d get an ice-cream, and then sit and watch the people walk by. We’d make up stories about who they were, where they’d been, and where they were going.”
“It sounds like it must have been fun.”
“It was. The stories we’d come up with about spies and lost princes.”
“She’s not here anymore, is she?”
Liz became quiet.
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
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