The Time Traveller's Apprentice

A little girl releases a note in a bottle advertising her family's wonderful hat shop, after many days of no new visitors she gives up, but twenty years later, a very wonderful man arrives.

The Time Traveller’s Apprentice

 

Prologue

 

The wind tasted especially bitter in my mouth that morning, and the sky was in the annoying in between of windy and rainy that it always was. The sand was much less sandy too, misplaced in lazy piles of clumpy nothing. But it was no less or more than an average day on The Sass, only something was missing, more like somebody though really.

 

I picked up a rock, an ugly rock, that was more a mish-mash of grass and mud and grains than any rock I ever saw, but I was angry, and right now, this ugly not-quite-a-rock was going to be the subject of my burning fury. I picked it up, and threw it into the not-quite-water of The Bardus, which is Latin for stupid.

 

I picked up the rock and hurled it into The Bardus, with all the might that my weak little arms could summon. It barely made it to the edge of the waters, where The Bardus met The Sass. But nevertheless, the excuse of a rock crumbled into pathetic little pieces of rock excuses due to the impact of it hitting another pile of either sand, or s**t, it was impossible to tell.

‘Sorry,’ I whispered under the crashing sounds of the waves raping the cliff edge. I wasn’t sorry though, well, maybe a little for the cliff edge, but not for the rock. B***h deserved it.

 

I slumped into a pile of ‘sand’, and admired the view, which was slightly ruined by the fragments of rock excuse, which were spread out over a portion of The Sass now. The island was bare without him, it was just an island now, it was plain and it was boring. I was boring too now. And pointless, I was, legitimately, without point. And at that moment, I wasn’t quite sure if the sand was soggy, or if I’d just s**t myself, but I knew secretly neither mattered anymore, nothing f*****g mattered anymore.

 

It took me a moment to realise I was crying, but I could feel the hot tears leaking from my face, it was face rain, like he’d told me, we needed face rain every now and again, to water the freckles. You have to be kinder to people with freckles, he so often pointed out, because they were a sign of sensitivity, freckles were very curious and wonderful things, he would say, and then he would talk more about freckles and then about something else like risotto or a giraffe he met once, never about time travel though.

 

Nevertheless, it made me very ashamed of my plain old face, which was bare and boring. I think that’s what he liked about me though; I certainly liked his freckles, so I supposed that it all worked out.

 

After I had thought about The Sass, and the ugly rock excuse, and his freckles, I started to think about other things. His insane ‘theories’ that at some point began to become so ridiculous that they started to make perfect sense; his hair- which was even more ridiculously perfect than his theories-; Barnaby his cat, whom I hated with a great passion; his board game collection; his poetry, which just made him even more of an irresistible fuckass. I loved him, even though he was a complete idiot, even though he was a weirdo, whose job it was to ‘manage’ time, even though he had hairy feet and even though he was like 100 years old, it made for an exciting birthday party though, putting all those candles on the cake.

 

He always said he wanted me to outlive him, I guess we both assumed I wouldn’t though. Like he was an oak, and I was a stick, he was ecstasy, and I was an M&M, he could manipulate time, and I could eat 20 hotdogs in 20 minutes.

He said if I lived for 100 more years, he wanted to live for 100 more years minus one day, so he never had to live a single day without me. He had actually stolen that quote from Winnie The Pooh, I never told him I knew that though, because he looked awfully pleased with himself after he’d said it, and I was awfully pleased with him to.

 

But he’s gone now. And so here I am, I’ve just s**t myself on a beach, in a sticky pile of my own shame and tears, with a gun in my hand, with three bullets in my gun. That’s one for me and two for the island. I turn my cheek from The Bardus, and assure myself that the shack is still burning,

It is.

 

I know before I died, I wanted to do things, I considered my firsts and my lasts, what I had and hadn’t done, and what I could do. But I couldn’t do anything without him, I did think that I would be ok if we were ever parted, but I’m not, evidently.

 

Two shots for the island:

I fire the first,

 

It travels into the air, explodes, and the bullet descends to the surface of The Sass.

 

The second,

 

This one is less impressive, reaching a smaller feet, it does not explode as quickly, the sound is not as loud, and the bullet barely makes a ripple in the surface of the water, it suddenly occurs to me how easily this could wrong, and I have wasted two bullets.

 

But there is no turning back, should this go wrong, then I will find another way to die, I will end this mess.

 

I want a thousand things to flash through my mind; I want to replay my life before my eyes like it does for everybody else. But it doesn’t, and my mind is blank. I’m disappointed, I try to remember what I can about everything, but I suppose I did not deserve a last look at everything that was me, and that makes me sad. My life was short, but my life was good, and now, my life is done I suppose.

 

I bring the gun to my head. 

Author's Note

I'm still debating whether to base it on doctor who and turn it into a fanfiction, but for now I welcome any criticism and please enjoy it!

Reviews

[Bluefire]

I think it's a million times better than Dr. Who. I love the emotion, the sadness, the humor, the wording.
I can see where this would make an excellent book and would totally rad it more than once.
Well done!

[lozzop]

Tysm, you made my day!!!! ^_^

[Bluefire]

I'm so glad! ^^
You're welcome!