11:26

 The sun filtered in through the small musty windows of the classroom. The room was old, the dark wooden floorboards smooth from passing feet and moving tables. In the corner was a gentle red fire. It was silent and cast conflicting shadows with the little sunlight that made it through the windows. Dust floated aimlessly from sun beam to sun beam. The rest of the room was blanketed in darkness, deeper than an ink bottle. The single wooden door, made of planks and iron bars, opened silently inward. The dust quickly floated away from the door, almost as if it was afraid of who had arrived.

A gray haired man tentatively peaked his head through the open door. He had a wild beard and his hair had knotted itself into a clumped mass. He wore a green faded sweater and a thin tan vest. His face relaxed when he saw there was nobody there besides himself. He shuffled in with a hunched back and crooked neck. He clutched a red notebook close to his chest. It was about a foot tall and nine inches wide with a small metal engraving attached to the binding. The engraving read: “All In Time”.

The man set down the book on a large desk at the front of the room and fell tiredly into the worn seat. His eyes closed and he rested his forehead in his hand. A piece of wood in the fire settled with a pop and soft shudder. The sun beams slowly moved over the wooden floor.

Eventually the man lifted his head and stared at the red notebook in front of him with a look of tired resignation. He reached across the desk and picked up a long silver pen. Near where the pen had been was a small name plaque that read Prof. Edward Shultz. The professor scratched his head and further knotted his hair as he opened the book gingerly. He flipped through the book until he reached a page with the current day's date: February 17^th, 1884. All of the previous pages had a dates on them in chronological order. Following the date was a long list of tiny scribbled words, indistinguishable to the average reader. But Shultz seemed to understand every nuance of the notebook; his hands slid over it kindly and the pages were turned with perfect attention, none were accidentally ripped.

Professor Shultz glanced at his watch and sighed in resignation. He twisted open the pen and wrote carefully in a scrawl of handwriting: “11:21AM event predicted and confirmed. 11:26AM event predicted but unconfirmed.” He drew a thick line across the page after the last line and closed the book with finality. Shultz stared again at the blank cover of the book for a minute before he set down his pen and walked over to the window and was lit by the sun beam. The dust motes shied away for a moment but then gently floated towards the man and settled in his beard and hair. Shultz stared unseeingly through the warped glass into the sharp light. His eyebrows creased inwards and his brow created a plowed farmland of ridges.

The professor glanced at his watch again and the farmland grew more fertile. He quickly shuffled back to the desk and snatched his precious notebook, holding it close to his heart. He looked at the fire in the corner and whispered to the air.

“Nothing more to be done...” He glared at the fire, “I never wanted to be you.” The fire crackled back, almost sounding like laughter. Shultz cocked his head and laughed a dry huff. His watch ticked into 11:26 unnoticed. The room was suddenly lit and everything was easily visible. The air screamed and Professor Shultz hugged his book tightly. The sunbeams burned into the walls and floor. The windows shattered into the room and fire poured in gracefully. It crashed upon Shultz and he disappeared under the rolling wave. The desk splintered from the heat and the door groaned on it's iron hinges. The fire flowed into every corner and the world laughed.