Flash Friday #23 'Turning back time'
Original flash fiction: What if you didn't have to live with the consequences of your actions?
Welcome to ‘Flash Friday’ where every week I share some of my original flash fiction.
This week’s story was inspired by the writing prompt: ‘the antique watch was able to turn back time’.
Rather unsurprisingly, living in the post-Harry Potter world, when I read this prompt I immediately thought of Hermione’s Time-Turner from The Prisoner of Azkaban, and the device in this flash fiction works in a similar way.
I hope you enjoy reading this one, and please leave a ‘like’ or a comment below if you’d like to share your thoughts - I’d love to hear what you think.
The antique watch was able to turn back time. But it could only turn back a few hours, not days or years. And only up to twelve hours. To make the magic work all one had to do was to use the winding crown to adjust the time back the number of hours you wished to go. Once you’d set it to run again, everything and everyone around you would revert to how it was at that time.
The watch had come to him from his grandfather. It had been left to him in his will together with a sealed letter. Both items, the watch and the letter, had been secured in a bank vault until he turned eighteen, after which he’d been entitled to retrieve them and could read his grandpa’s words.
In the letter he had learned that the watch was very rare. Priceless and irreplaceable. It was also magical. Like all the best watches it had been made in Switzerland. And this particular watch was created on commission by a mysterious 19th century watchmaker known simply as ‘Tempus’.
But the watch had never been delivered to its intended owner, instead being stolen by the watchmaker’s apprentice who had later emigrated to England. That apprentice had been the grandfather of Jack’s late grandfather, and the watch had been passed down from generation to generation ever since, each time with careful instructions about how to use it, and how not to use it.
Jack had benefited from it several times at university, gaining a rather dishonest second attempt at tricky exams and tests, all these years later he still felt guilty for that. He’d also used it to kiss the girl he’d met on holiday before she and her family left unexpectedly to go home. But if he was honest, the watch frightened him, and he had been happier to leave it in a locked box under the stairs. For one thing it took a lot of remembering which version of events had actually happened, and he had confused people several times when he had (apparently) misremembered an event.
As he got older and more responsible he began to recognise the potential risks associated with using such a device too often and too casually. Everyone else had to live with the consequences of their actions, so what gave him the right to change his?
He hadn’t thought about it now for years. Over a decade in fact. The last few times he had used it had made him feel uncomfortable, and he had questioned how ethical it was to make those around him relive their actions and behaviours differently according to his own influence and whim.
The last occasion in particular had left him feeling very awkward. Not because he had done anything so very dreadful, but because he had known deep inside that he deserved to live with the repercussions, but instead had taken the coward’s way out and allowed himself a second chance. It was pathetic.
But now he had the chance to save someone’s life.
His car had collided with another on a quiet country road. Its driver lay dead after their vehicle had overturned and ended up upside down. The deceased driver hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt, but the collision had been Jack’s fault.
He could fix this. He could resurrect the man from the dead. But the watch was at home, several hours away, and his own car now wasn’t driveable.
Frantically, he bolted before anyone could come across their vehicles and the dead body. He knew he should stay and phone the emergency services but every minute was precious if he was to get back with suffient time to use the watch. He couldn’t risk being caught up with the police answering questions, unable to leave.
As he jogged along the road he went through the logistics in his head: so many miles to X village, a bus from there to X town, train to X city and change. He only hoped he could make it onto the last train to his local station. Then there’d be a two mile walk along partially lit, dark streets before he could open his front door. Maybe he’d get lucky. Maybe he’d find a taxi willing to take him a longer distance.
Through it all, the constant panicked question of whether he would make it in time. He didn’t know. But he had to try.
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Now that definitely gets your brain roiling.