"Time-Comber's Book" Series, Historical Fiction, Life Stuff, Paranormal/Spiritual Fiction, posts

“The Time-Comber’s Book, #8: Self Critical in Victorian England” (Flash Fiction Series)

Entry #8

The portal brought me to my next stop: what appeared a beautiful tea parlor in Victorian times. A woman with voluminous hair piled on her hand, not a strand out of place and looking as a piece of artwork on its own, scrambled all about. The room itself was in lovely form: A set of matching chairs with small blankets for guests hanging over their backs encircled a round table. On the side stood a smaller square table, with some elaborate ornamental frames.

The woman scurried about in a dress with a hefty skirt—yet it seemed impossible for her to trip over it even with her hurried steps. She frenzied about with some teacups, which she set upon the table, excitement with the preparations bubbling in the room around her, emanating from her.

Then she glanced at the frames and stopped. I saw not who was pictured in the black and white photographs, but I felt the Victorian’s heart gathering around a memory in her mind—then her heart fell.

“Why did I do that?” she whispered to herself. “I shouldn’t have done that….” And she slumped into one of the perfect chairs.

And though the home around her was ideal, everything in place and lavish as could be, I could feel some wound within her that was never able to heal.

There are moments in life when everything around us is perfect. But as human beings, people make some ridiculous mistakes. And that’s okay…really. Everyone still deserves to heal.






Image: Lena London/SuperColoring.com (Creative Commons License CC BY-SA 4.0)



"Time-Comber's Book" Series, Flash Fiction, Paranormal/Spiritual Fiction, posts, Truth, Wisdom

“The Time-Comber’s Book, #6: Impassable Technology in 2014” (Flash Fiction Series)

First installment of "The Time-Comber's Book"

Artwork of Senior CitizenEntry 6

Again, the portal took me to a more recent time: 2014. This time, I popped up in the back of a post office, floating above cardboard shipping boxes behind people standing in line.

At the counter was a senior man, being told that he had to file his postal insurance claim online. He explained, politely, that he was told he could come in. He said did not have “that Internet.”

However, at that moment, as he stood there needing help, he was told there was no way to do it in person.

So he left and went back to the bus stop.

Seeing the progress of humankind throughout the ages, I know things will change, leaving old processes and ways behind — yet I have never seen yet an “insurmountable” task very often because of it.

There should always be an alternative to technology for those who don’t have it — and for when, God forbid for most, technology fails.


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