Footprint

A story of the mundane, science, fiction, and love. Charlie works an ordinary desk job at a not-so-ordinary company that just so happens to use time travel to study Earth's history.

Footprint

 

The name TimeCorp decorated the wall in stamped steel across from the security desk.  The ‘O’ was in the shape of a vortex. Charlie thought it was rather elementary and ignorant.

He was met by a rather casual man at the small, carpeted entrance hall.    The man introduced himself as George.  A Rather boring name, Charlie thought to himself.  Why couldn’t his name have been Jed with two Ds or something?

 “Are you the new guy?” George mumbled into his cup of coffee, which also bore the image of TimeCorp’s logo.

“The new guy, I am, sir.” Charlie said in sarcastic whimsy.

George laughed and led Charlie over to a vast opening where at least one hundred office associates were languishing in paperwork.  There were only two or three desks within cubicles that appeared to be vacant.  George greeted nearly every sport coat he passed and knew everyone’s name.  He stopped in front of the first open desk they approached. The entire room had nothing affixed to the walls.  No ornamentation on any of the desks.  Family photos brought in by the cubicle’s temporary inhabitants were a bit of décor that let the room breath.

George took another sip of coffee and began to explain to Charlie the fundamentals of the job and the terms of his schedule. “Charlie, you are required to be here five days a week, however, the actual days will be rotating, so don’t get too comfortable.

 “Oh, but, I’m already at home.” Charlie said with more sarcasm.

George set his coffee cup on Charlie’s new desk and laughed quite loud for an instant, “Ha!” and began to walk away.  “You can start by washing my coffee cup out and hanging it on the shelf in the break room.  And once you’re finished with that you can start logging in all the arrivals and departures on your end of the room.”

Other than the room lacking aesthetic appeal, all four walls were lined with doors that looked as if they were elevators.  At the top of each one, a set of numbers corresponded.  The first one of which Charlie assumed was the number of the “chamber”, the second number after a dash he thought might be for the wall that particular chamber was located. 

“Use your cheat sheet!” George said as he walked further away.

 

 

Charlie looked around.  His eyes rested on a partially ripped sheet of paper taped to the top of his desk.  It had numbers in a table telling what each digit meant and how events should be logged.  He was correct in what each number stood for.  He sat down, uneager to start.  His mind was racing, but as soon as he set his ambitions to it he was churning out the stacks of paperwork as if there were a printing press doing it for him.  The others were becoming aggravated at his diligence. 

There was another intern across the room that was brought in only a couple days after him and she was struggling.  She was beautiful, but unconventional.  Charlie couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of her any time she got up to log an arrival at a chamber.  The nine-to-five vixen was quite thin.  Black hair fell to her mid-back.  It brought out her moderately pale complexion that she tried to hide with a fair amount of cover-up.  The lunch she devoured daily usually consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, crust removed, and ruffled potato chips.  The most juvenile lunch ever, Charlie thought to himself. 

He noticed one day that she came into work wearing a white button-down blouse and underneath a t-shirt with the image of a necktie.  He would laugh on these occasions, often when she would stumble over the tape covered cords that had always been in the same places around the office.

That afternoon he met her at the water cooler to have a chance to speak to her.  Filling his cup to the brim before she reached him, he sipped nervously.  She yanked a cup for herself from the sleeve, filling--sipping primly.  They stared at each other over the edges of their cups.  It was awkward.   It bothered him that he didn’t know her name.   

“I like your shirt.” Charlie blurted.

“Thanks, new guy.” She said throwing her cup in the trash and walking back to her seat.

“You’re welcome…new girl.”

                                     -----------------------------------

Charlie sat at his desk on a Friday morning enamored by the work he had already finished.  His attention wasn’t focused on the task at hand yet it was quickly getting done.  He dreamed of the silently hilarious seductress a few cubicles away, but he knew it was a terrible idea to get involved.  In the end someone would get hurt, Charlie thought to himself.  He was aware that relationships within the work place or “fraternizing” as TimeCorp’s policies elegantly put it, was frowned upon. 

A note appeared on his desk later that day after he had gotten up to go to the men’s room.   Astonishment came over him at the illegible micro-font that declared his name: “Charlie”.  The handwriting was loopy and swoopy and that made his gut fill with butterflies.  But the thoughts from earlier flooded his mind.  He thought of throwing the note in the garbage, but he was too excited not to open it.  Slitting the tape with his fingernail he flipped the folded yellow, lined sheet and read, “Come find me if you ever want to see my necktie shirt ever again.”

His eyebrows went up and straight back down with a forced frown following.  Charlie thought to himself for a moment about what the note could have meant.  Was she playing with him?  How could she know he was interested?  And how in the heck did she know that the necktie shirt is too damn cute?  Letting out a sigh of exasperation and confusion, Charlie got right back to work to let his mind depart from the idea of starting in on a fruitless endeavor. 

Once he could no longer keep the thought from escaping the back of his mind, he picked the note back out of the trash to admire the handwriting once more.  His attention was drawn to the bottom right corner where two numbers were also written in micro-font: “6-4”. A code was scrawled further below: “SHE320000000BCE”.

Charlie craned his neck over the top of the cubicle with an inquisitive glare.  Slowly, he turned his head until he could see the chamber that was located directly behind his desk.  The desk chair he sat upon in discomfort creaked sharply through the sounds of shuffling papers.  At the top of the chamber doors were the numbers six and four with a dash in between.  He felt himself stop breathing for a second and coughed from the formation of a lump in his throat.

The noise attracted the attention of George.  Charlie quickly threw the paper back into the trash.

“Hey, kiddo, everything alright?” George asked with genuine curiosity.

“Yeah, Yeah.  I’m ok.  Just need a bit of a break I suppose.” Charlie shot a tepid grin.  Standing up, the two of them walked together over to the break room, which doubled as a kitchen.  Charlie said nothing more to George as he began brewing a fresh pot of Colombian roast coffee.  His hand shook slightly while scooping the grounds.  

George examined very carefully while leaning against the door frame. 

The water began to filter through the grounds and the only sound the two of them heard were keyboards clacking and the water hitting the inside of the carafe.

“Charlie, what’s up?  Everything going ok?  Are you sick?” George asked lowly.

 “I’m fine.” 

“Hey, George, do you know who that new girl is, the one you brought in a few days ago--black hair, kind of plain-Jane, but cute at the same time?” Charlie looked past George at the girl’s empty desk.

“Oh, I see.  You’re love sick.” George said with a bit of relief.  He didn’t want to lose his most productive worker.  “Charlie, I think it goes without saying that you should stick to dating outside of the work place, especially at TimeCorp.  We are a Fortune 500 company and you are very lucky to have a job here with your limited credentials.  Having said that, I know it’s severely enticing considering you’re constantly up to your eyeballs in paperwork.  And past that paperwork, a pretty face gives you solace and you can’t help it.” 

“That was quite poetic, George.  What are you doing working here, anyway?  You could be an artist!” Charlie smiled as he poured himself a cup of coffee.  Bringing his shoulders up to his ears, hands clenched on the mug as if the only comfort he had was the piping beverage, he drank cautiously.  His demeanor was almost aimed at mocking George, but Charlie liked to loosen people up.  What was work without play if not just work? 

George smiled.  He couldn’t help but laugh, “I would starve!” He declared.  Being in his forties, he didn’t understand the twenty-something’s of today, but if they all turned out like Charlie he would have no qualms about it.  George continued to half-hug the frame of the kitchen’s entryway and began to tell Charlie about the mystery girl. “Her name is Sheila.  That’s all I can tell you about her and I hope you respect that. Company policy.” George winked.

“Thanks, I suppose I’ll have to woo the other goodies of information out of her myself.” Charlie said with an overly positive attitude.  Setting his coffee down on the courter top, the liquid nearly sloshed its way out of the cup.  He was out of George’s sight in an instant.  George reacted with a look of yet more confusion and glanced lately around the corner toward Charlie’s desk.  But Charlie hadn’t returned to his seat.

-----------------------------------

The chamber door hissed loudly and opened to painfully bright sunlight.  Charlie held his hand above his eyes with a squint.  Scanning his surroundings he immediately looked straight up to view the canopy of monstrous conifer trees.  The heat was thick and the sun beat on him unrelenting.  The Carboniferous Period was no place for a gangly young man of Charlie’s ill-athletic disposition.  The air was stifling and he had asthma.  His shaggy brown hair was matted from moisture.  The ground was thick with mud and moss.  Charlie started to walk staggeringly over exposed roots and squishy-sounding brush until he came in proximity of a dragonfly resting on a tree just in front of him. 

“That thing is the size of a house cat.”  Charlie thought to himself.

Charlie looked around slowly and realized he was in the midst of a swarm.  He turned quickly and began to sprint.

-----------------------------------

Charlie had now been running for at least twenty minutes.  All around him he heard rumblings and growling of numerous kinds that seemed to be closing in on him due to his commotion.  His panic brought him to the point of nearly having an asthma attack, but he needed to keep running.  Or find a hiding place somewhere dry and preferably critter-free.

A clearing was just ahead.  And, beyond that, dense ferns amidst arboreal greenery were a resounding relief in the pit of Charlie’s stomach.  But as soon as he reached the first prominent tree, he collapsed. 

The sweat pooled into the crook of his neck as he laid flat on his back.  Heat emanated from his face and ears.  His eyes were shut in the hopes that the swarm would take his life quickly.  But as soon as he mustered the courage to open his right eye, he saw a sweat covered temptress in one of the trees with a torn blouse and jet-black hair pulled back.  The holes in her black dress slacks made her look ruggedly sexy.  “Xena!” Charlie shouted.  Sheila grimaced at Charlie’s howl of nerdery.

Charlie could see that Sheila was moving her mouth, but he could hear nothing other than the fierce pounding in his head and the swarm of colossal insects heading his way. 

His hearing came forth. Screams were coming from the tree in echoes and waves that hurt his head. 

“Charlie you need to get up!  Climb!” Sheila shouted.

“Hey!” Charlie shouted back.

“What?” Sheila asked with a panic in her throat.

“You’re wearing that shirt.” Charlie smiled, pointing to her necktie shirt just underneath her torn blouse.

“Are you going to crack wise or get your a*s up here so you don’t, you know, die?” She shouted in exasperation.

“Nice to see you, too, girly!”

Charlie pulled himself up by a low protrusion of the tree and began to climb the titan that was home to many creeps and crawlies.  At one point, a centipede slimed across his                                                        forearm.  The many tiny limbs felt ghastly and delicate against his skin.  He struggled in fright to keep his grip on the tree.  Once the poisonous arthropod had gone, Charlie proceeded with his arduous ascent.  He could see billows of smoke emanating from the top of the tree from what seemed to be a large fumigator Sheila was using to repel any unwanted guests. 

It seemed as though the dragonflies had stopped pursuing him, but he climbed evermore quickly as Sheila’s face came into view.  His leg got caught on a thick nub of the tree and cut into his leg deep; he howled in pain, “Ah! D****t!” 

“Shut up!  Do you want to attract more flying a******s and gargantuan iguanas?” Sheila whispered loudly.

“I love it when you talk dirty!” Charlie whispered back.

Sheila couldn’t help but conceal laughter as Charlie made it to the pinnacle of the tree’s lower canopy and sat in dread at the events that had just unfolded.

Charlie spoke under his heaving, “Couldn’t the flying a******s reach us here just as well?  They do fly.”

“I wanted you up here so you wouldn’t attract the beasties that tore apart my camp site.” Sheila explained.  Charlie couldn’t speak.  His collared shirt was unbuttoned with tie undone.  A luster of thick sweat covered his chest.  Breathing in and out heavily, he held up two thumbs in approval and smiled dumbly at her.

                       

                                                -----------------------------------

Sheila sat across from Charlie lying against a large branch of her own.  The air was like a globular, humid wall between the two of them--suffocating the timidity with heat that brought sweat to their brow.    

Trying to stand up she advanced through the itchy density of the tree, tore off a piece of her shirt and wrapped it around his wounded leg. “Thank you.” Charlie said with a startled smirk. 

Charlie extended his hand to her.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Charlie” he said professionally.

“You are?” Sheila said sarcastically.

“Hey, be nice.  I came to rescue you.” He said with a frown.

“And rescue me, you did not.” she said, quelling laughter.

“Hey!  I tried hard.” his chest still moving deeply.

 “I’m just kidding, champ.  I’m glad you got my note.  I didn’t want to be the subject of the feeding habits of the creatures of the Carboniferous any longer.”

“Say that ten times fast.” Charlie said.  They both laughed at Sheila trying to do so.

“So they put you in here for experimental purposes?” Charlie asked.

“If you underperform in log quota you get sent to a particular chamber in which they are testing the feeding and mating habits of the indigenous life.  And if you fail to perform data collection here you get sent to the mail room.”  Sheila shrugged.

“S**t.  I’d much rather been slinging mail.” Charlie said under his breath.  “But what about the note that you left on my desk, I thought you were in trouble?” 

“They said I would be in here at least four weeks.  I wanted to see you.  So sue me.” She shrugged again and smiled.

“So, mating habits, huh? Charlie said.  “I can’t help but question TimeCorp’s methods of researching such activity.”

“Not on me, you dipshit!” Sheila said.

“Shh! I kid.  Lizards are more doable, anyway.” Charlie said.

“I hate your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?” Charlie said.

 “Shut up or I’ll push you out of the tree.” Sheila whispered.

                                    -----------------------------------

Sheila’s eyes glittered oranges and yellows in the twilight as day had begun to fall.  The both of them stared at one another for a while without speaking.  Sheila tapped her legs nervously with her fingertips as she lay across a wide limb within the loftiness of the ancient tree.  The place in which they found refuge would have such stories to tell.  Sheila got to her feet once more sitting clumsily in Charlie’s lap.

“Oh, hey.” Charlie said in a low voice.  Sheila giggled. 

 They stared at the moon with their heads touching, arms wrapped around each other limply.  Even as the air cooled, it was still too stuffy for them to embrace each other fully. Sweat pooled anywhere it could in the nooks of their bodies.  

“We’re going to land there some day.” Sheila said with a nod toward the pale disk.

“We landed eons ago.  What are you talking about �" oh, right.  You’re a clever one.” Charlie nudged her shoulder with a clenched fist.

Sheila had a ruck sack with her in the tree.  She began to dig through it while still sitting in Charlie’s lap.  Her round butt prominently stuck up into Charlie’s view.  “Nice.” He said.  She smirked, thwacking him on the head with a bowie knife sheath.  The blade flashed in the moonlight as she turned sideways in his lap; her hand placed around his neck. 

 “What are you going to do with that?” Charlie asked sarcastically.  “Blood orgy?”

 “Let’s make our mark in history at least once, if not in the present.”  She began to carve letters into the tree just above his head.

“Hey, stop.  Won’t that cause a paradox or something?” he asked.

“Don’t be dumb.” she said.

Sheila continued to carve into the tree until her name was crudely etched with a “+” underneath it.  “Your turn, love.” She gave him the knife. He began to carve his name under the plus sign, finishing with a terribly articulated heart surrounding the two names.

“That heart looks like a pair of butt cheeks.” Sheila said.

Charlie turned his head slowly toward her until their eyes met.  “F**k you, buddy.” He said with a straight face.  Laughter from both of them enveloped the tree tops. 

As soon as their giggling had subsided, they moved in toward one another.  He palmed the side of her face.  Her hand was placed firmly against his chest just underneath his unraveled tie.  Their salty, sweat coated lips touched in the dark.  Her thin frame pressed closely to his.  Lust impetuously forced itself through each of them.  Their bodies added to the palpable heat as they lost themselves in the top of the arid forest.

                                    -----------------------------------

Lying together in the crook of a branch, Sheila straddled Charlie half clothed, facing him, with her head resting in the curve of his neck and shoulder--eyes closed.  Charlie’s trousers were half on with striped boxers ruffled over top. 

They barely knew each other, but it was right.  They learned more about one another in their high-hide than they would have in the office, or anywhere for that matter.  Charlie viewed the panorama of the forest, darkness limiting his view.  The moonlight shone across Sheila’s bra and torn slacks draped across a branch within reach.

“Fraternizing, my a*s.” Charlie said under his breath.

“What?” Sheila asked, half asleep.

“Nothing.  Inside joke.”  

Charlie caught a glimpse of Sheila’s cleavage as he wriggled to adjust to comfort, sweat streamed down the middle of her breasts and continued to follow the concaves and convexities of her lean stomach.  It was beautiful.  It was real.  He didn’t ever want to move.  Her hair blended into the night only to be revealed by the moon.  The black locks were plastered to the side her neck. “Beauty in the raw,” Charlie thought to himself.

“Do you want to switch?” Charlie asked.

“You mean…you straddle me?” She asked.

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you were getting uncomfortable.” he explained.

 “Shh. I don’t want to…want to do stuff” she trailed off and was asleep in moments and so was Charlie.

                                    -----------------------------------

Charlie awoke to the sun rudely striking his eyes with hot, radiant light.  Sheila hadn’t moved an inch all night.  There was a deep throbbing sensation in his neck. 

He put his hand on his neck to stifle the pain when just past Sheila he saw an enormous spider lying upside down in rigor. “That son of a b***h bit me!” Charlie yelled.  Sheila woke instantly.  Startled, she leapt off Charlie at the sight of the arachnid with a squeal.  A gaggle of birds darted from the hundreds of trees in the area at the sound of her terror.  They both looked at each other in the astonishment at the sheer size of the creature.  Immediately Shelia grabbed Charlie’s arm, pulled him close, and kissed him violently. 

“I missed you.” Sheila said while reattaching articles of clothing.  “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Yes, milady.” Charlie said.

At the base of the tree, they held hands and began walking back in the direction where Charlie had been running from.  They were back at the camp site Sheila had set up within half an hour. “Well it looks like my research has come to a halt.  All the equipment they provided me is either gone or destroyed.”  Sheila said.  “Studying synapsid reptiles proves taxing on many levels.”

“Hey, do you think your admirers liked chocolaty treats filled with nougat, nuts and caramel?” Charlie held up a flaccid, melted Snickers bar to show Sheila.

“The hell if I know.  The only research I’ve been doing is from a tree.” Sheila said.

“I like research.” Charlie said.  Attempting to be seductive, he took a bite of the candy bar, spitting it out in an instant.

“Gross!  No more make-out sessions for you!”  Sheila said.

“But, I can share!” the melted brown substance was smeared across his mouth.

“Ew!  Get away!” Sheila screamed and laughed putting her hands up to keep him away.

Charlie reached for a paper towel among the rubble to wipe off his face.

“So, if you’re so smart and stuff, why didn’t they put you in the Physics or Science departments?” Charlie asked while sucking at his teeth.

“I don’t know.  I have two degrees; one in History and the other in Geology.  I’m sure they didn’t want to pay me for them, though.” 

“Those b******s.” Charlie said shaking his fist in the air with the soiled paper towel clenched between his fingers.

“Long story short, I got stuck in a cubicle, like you.  But I purposely underperformed in hopes they’d stick me out here, and voila.” she explained while sifting through parts of seismographs, journals and textbooks.

“You’re crazy, lady.  But, your brains get me going.” Charlie said.  “Let’s get back.  I’m sure George has officially canned me by now.”  He picked up a large insect net from the rubble and playfully whapped her on the leg.

“Well, I’m glad you’re in this for my mind and not my body.” Sheila laughed.  She picked up her glasses from underneath the collapsed tent and tarps she had set up and shoved the black-framed spectacles over her sweaty, petite nose.

The chamber was located near the site.  Sheila punched in her time signature; “SHE320000000BCE”.  The door opened with a hiss.  Its frame was covered in foliage and moss and dripped black water from the muck and swamp run-off coming from behind it.  They both stepped in and the door closed behind them.

“Why is this thing making so much noise?  And what’s with the smoke?” Charlie asked loudly.

“Decontamination--we can’t exit until it’s finished. Everything that comes from the past stays in the past.  Time needs to be free of cross-contamination.”  Sheila explained.

Charlie leaned toward Sheila and gave her a kiss on the neck and took to his original stance as the door opened abruptly.  “That’s a part of the procedure.” Charlie said.

Sheila was grinning ear to ear.  They saw George sitting at Charlie’s desk logging arrivals and departures--including theirs.

“George!  Are you doing my job for me?” Charlie asked.

“No, you lunatic, I’m covering for you.  What were you thinking going in there without credentials?” George whispered. “And Sheila, I got your digital log.  What was the outcome of your research so far?”

“Screw you.” Sheila said.

“You know, you’re lucky I don’t fire the both of you.  Get your asses back to work.” George whispered loudly. 

Charlie sat down at his desk without saying a word.  Sheila boarded an elevator heading down to Geology.  Their focus on each other had not broken. 

They were in love. 

Charlie dug into his desk drawer with one hand, grabbed a couple Band Aids to slap on his neck and continued logging.  Charlie looked away from her as the elevator doors closed with George coming back into focus.  His eyebrows flittered up and down at Charlie.  Must have been his seal of approval, Charlie thought.

                                    -----------------------------------

The fluorescence of the office lighting flickered on in the dawn of a new work day as personnel began to flood the main lobby.  Early office personnel began departures.  George walked directly into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, yawning big.  He was looking at the entry way in anticipation of Charlie’s arrival. 

After fifteen minutes George checked the absentee list to see if Charlie had called in sick.  His name was not listed.  George noticed Sheila arriving at her desk particularly dolled up: rouge, faint lipstick, eyeliner, hair straightened, bosoms perked.  He decided to ask her if she had seen Charlie as of late. 

George walked slowly to her desk while keeping his eyes fixed on Charlie’s that sat empty in the corner of the room in front of “6-4”.

“Hey, Sheila.

“Morning, George.  Sorry about yesterday, by the way.  I was sweaty and grumpy.” Sheila said.

“Not to worry.  You’re just lucky I’m your boss.” George said.  “Have you seen Charlie in the last twenty-four hours?”

“Uh, no.  I thought he went home last night after we arrived?  I wasn’t able to say goodbye because I had to go down to Geology to sign for more equipment.  Besides, I wanted to keep him waiting.” Sheila laughed.

George looked concerned.  Lost in thought, his eyes traveled to the gray, carpeted floor.  He walked back toward the kitchen without saying another word to Sheila. 

Before he entered the kitchen he stopped in his tracks and walked briskly toward Charlie’s desk in panic, past workers still clad in overcoats.

 George could see over the top of the right cubicle wall that Charlie was sitting in his chair.  His head was resting in his arms on the top of the desk as if he were sleeping.  George stopped just behind Charlie and tapped him on the shoulder roughly. Charlie didn’t react. 

Sheila was hanging up her coat when she noticed George behind Charlie’s desk.  A sinking, helpless feeling filled her stomach.    

She walked slowly toward George who had Charlie sitting up in his chair.  Charlie’s veins were cruddy and yellow and his skin flushed--pale as the moon they once together gazed upon. 

Sheila Knelt down in front of Charlie to pair herself with his field of view.  His eyes were nearly black.  She knew that this was her fault and she couldn’t put the thought out of her mind. 

Her eyes welled.  The mascara she applied that morning ran steadily across her cheeks.  The abundance of cosmetics was in preparation for a date she planned to ask Charlie on. 

She looked at George with an expression of dread, her hand held Charlie’s head upright.  Turning him in his chair to look at his neck, Charlie’s wound bore a substance that oozed and flashed under the lighting of the office.  Even in death, Charlie had a genuine look of happiness and she knew that what the two of them had gone through was bliss for him.  She wouldn’t be able to show him how much he really meant to her.

                                    -----------------------------------

Three months after the funeral, Sheila was walking the sterile white halls of the Geology department.  The title of “Proctor” was embroidered across her coat’s breast pocket.  In lieu of Charlie’s death, Sheila hadn’t found much of anything interesting, but the position itself was an honor.  Digging up the past was something the career entailed yet the very thought was a curse to her. 

A black skirt, high heels and leggings completed Sheila’s attire.  Her jet black hair was spun with a bright, yellow Ticonderoga pencil.  Signature glasses over the top of her head.  She perused the glass display cases of archaeological findings from around the region. 

In the Pennsylvanian and Mississippian cases, which were very sparse, there were fossilized impressions of Tully Monsters, ferns, and a variety of insects.  As she continued to walk and observe, a particular item piqued her interest. 

As she approached the sliding glass door, her heart rate sped up.  Every breath she took was shallow.  The palms of her hands were in a cold sweat.  She brought the pair of glasses down to her nose.

To better acquaint herself with the artifact, she fumbled with a pair of keys fastened around her wrist.  Sliding the proper one into the lock, the door shuttered at the quivering of her hand.

A slab of jagged petrified wood sat on a mount much like one used for photographs.  Deep brown, mixed with earth tones, the slab was blank and smooth.  Sheila’s hand reached for the piece of time, scooping it from its prison. 

Mouth dry with anticipation, she turned it to the opposing side.  Several marks were etched lightly.   

Memories of the ancient tree tops rushed through her synapses.  The image of Charlie’s face flashed forth.

Tears poured from her closed eyes as a smile broke free from the corners of her mouth. 

Taking refuge against the wall across from the display, she slid to the floor, sobbing loudly.  The secretary of the department ran to her side. 

“Sheila, what’s the matter?” the secretary asked.  But, Sheila didn’t answer.  The words were stuck in her throat.

Tracing the letters with her finger- tips that were housed within the shape of a heart, Sheila sobbed even louder at seeing her name carved into the wood just above Charlie’s. 

Reviews

[Eliezer]

The dialogue didn't really click with me however, I did like how you set the settings throughout the story. For example, I thought, "the air was like a globular, humid wall between the two of them--suffocating the timidity with heat that brought sweat to their brow." was a pretty neat description.

[Ryan K. M.]

Thanks for the review! I wrote this story around 2012 and at the time this was my first full-fledged short-story in which I enjoyed reading even myself. However, looking back on the dialog I would agree it could have used some variety.

[Laurent Hardesty]

As a man with no experience as of yet, I thought it was a good story! My computer died on me half way through and I waited all day to come back to your page and finish. I did get a little confused the first time they went through the time machine though.

[Ryan K. M.]

I'm very glad that this was good enough to come back to! I think I'm going to do some minor edits to the story to do away with some confusing parts for sure. Thanks for the review and for stopping by my page!

[Crowley]

That was a cleverly written story. The transition between the office and the forest threw me for a bit of a loop, but it worked itself out a bit after which I'm guessing is what you envisioned. The plot line was original and inventive, much different than anything I have read for sure. Unlike the person reviewing before, I felt the dialogue was actually pretty good, and it is refreshing to see a fiction writing on here that knows how to format his piece, so many are really off base and make them almost unreadable. Great job and thanks again for stopping by my place, I appreciate it!

[Ryan K. M.]

Thanks for the positive review! It's great hearing that this story has an audience. Yes, there are some parts that could be tweaked a bit for sure, so the feedback definitely helps. The tone of the dialog got playful and carefree, which I think for the right reader it can lend a certain personality to the narrative. I look forward to reading more of your writing! Thanks again!