The Antiquarian

No-one had heard of Lennox Dred

‘Til he rumbled into town,

Bringing a cold sou’wester as

The rain came bucketing down,

He halted outside the Newtown Inn

In his Plymouth Belvedere,

Held together with rust and mud

As the paint had disappeared.

 

He stepped on out of the Belvedere

In his braces, spats and boots,

A silk cravat was around his neck

And a red topcoat to suit,

He wandered in to the concierge

And he said, ‘Now here, my man,

What is the month and the year round here

I’m an Antiquarian!’

 

The concierge said, ‘February

Of 2026,

I’m sure it’s the same most everywhere

Or the earth has blown to bits!’

‘Not yet, I trust, but here’s my card,’

And he read there ‘Lennox Dred,

Collecting any memorabilia

For the time ahead.’

 

Then Lennox scratched his head and muttered

‘Just February, eh?

I thought I’d timed my visit during

The first of March, today.

Well, can’t be helped, I’ll need a room

For a day or two at least,

With a toilet and a wash-stand, make it

A window, looking East.’

 

Later Lennox walked the streets

And he looked in every shop,

Picked up the most fantastic things

Like an ashtray and a mop,

He walked into a Menswear, wanted

A raincoat lined with lead,

With one of those lead-lined hoods attached,

Zipped up to cover your head.’

 

The rain was steadily pelting down

But he didn’t mind a jot,

‘So very clean and refreshing

Whether you’ve washed yourself or not.’

But people pointed in the street

And they laughed to see the sight,

Of the little Antiquarian,

Though he smiled at their delight.

 

The following day he walked around

From morning until dark,

Snapping a thousand pictures of

The townsfolk and the park,

When asked, he said, ‘There’s a craze you know

For pictures from the past,

And anything people used back then

Before it’s gone, at last.’

 

He dumped his stuff in the Belvedere,

Took one last look around,

‘A pity this’ll be gone next month,

It’s a tidy little town,’

He shook his head at the passing girls

Who he knew would soon be dead,

When the bomb went off in his future’s past,

‘Or my name’s not Lennox Dred!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Sheila Kline]

Ah, what a beauty she was.......my Plymouth Belvedere with a slant six engine, so right off the description of the car brought pleasant of memories to me. But it seems as if the memories of Lennox Dred were those to profit him - down to the lead lined rain coat and hood which must have been a necessity for protection from the results of the bomb blast. Your story is interesting, entertaining, and brings to light the survival instinct of one from the future as well as the opportunity to make some money/or barter material in memorabilia in the form of the many snapshots he traveled back with. It was nice to see he had a conscience as he felt pity for the girls who would be gone in the near future. So, I suppose he was just trying to survive.
You know David, you just can't write a story that is not one to remember!!!

[David Scott]

A wicked use of time travel...
Well done David. I could see the slimy creep!
A great story that was easy to follow.

[Enid Blake]

I do like a little bit of time travel every now and then...

[Marie]

"The bomb in his future's past"--what a great phrase. But I wonder then what happened to Lennx Dred?

[quinfinn]

like Tate said, Rod Serling would have loved this one! i like the whole premise of the story and the fact that it doesn't allow itself to get muddled by the whole time/space continuum argument...well done!

[Tate Morgan]

Oh man what a great story . My wife and I set and read this. It is absolutely fantastic. This could easily be a episode for the twilite zone. If ever i am asked what do I want to be when I grow up. I would say Paget I want to be like Paget lol