Writing for Fun
April 2022
World Wars And Time Machines - Lynn Gale
The traveller ran, ran as he had never run before. Heart thumping, he gulped in ragged breaths of the smog-filled air. Almost there, must not be caught, the sound of whistles, shouting and heavy boots echoed throughout the small alleyways that crisscrossed the overcrowded city.
Women with small children clinging like limpets to their skirts stepped back, screaming obscenities. 'The Bobbies will 'ave yer, Milord,' one shouted. Loud, raucous laughter followed his retreating back.
He dug into his pocket, pulled out a handful of pennies, and threw them onto the wet, cobbled street. A gang of street urchins appeared as if by magic. They whooped and fought to grab the coveted coins.
That should slow down his pursuers.
He forgot all the rules after a few too many jugs of the strong, sweetened gin in the Old Bull Tavern last night. Regaling tales of wondrous travel on two ladies who showed a great interest in this stranger amongst them. 'Do tell us more,' said Elsie pushing her long greasy hair back to push a forkful of mutton pie into her mouth; thick brown gravy dripped down her chin and dropped onto the threadbare, stained dress. 'World wars and time machines,' She turned to her companion Nell, 'He do talk funny, ' Nell laughed loudly, showing several missing teeth.
The traveller woke in the early hours, finding himself in a dingy room above the inn. He moaned as what must surely be a metal ball rolled around in his head.
Snippets of last night's indulgence came back. 'What have I done? What did I say?' A steady beep began. He unzipped a hidden pocket in his jacket and took out a small device; the glass disc indicated he had fifteen minutes to reach the door. He rushed out onto the grey, rain-soaked streets.
A teenage boy watched him from the corner. A notebook in his hand. 'Need help, Sir?'
'Yes, Winter Street, can you tell me the fastest way?'
'You can cut through that alley.' The boy pointed to a narrow opening between tenement houses.
Elsie appeared, leading a posse of three, truncheon waving blue-suited police officers. 'There he is,' she said, pointing to the traveller, 'and I bet he's got that silver gun in his fancy jacket.'
The traveller groaned, Idiot. A memory of waving the time-traverser around last night, showing off to the ladies. He ran towards the alley.
As the police took off after the traveller, the teenager approached Elsie. 'Can I ask you some questions?'
'Who are you? She looked him up and down. And what's it worth to ya?'
'Herbert George Wells at your service.' He said, dropping two shillings into her open palm.