The year was 1805. It was always 1805 and had been stuck between 11:36AM and 12:02AM on July 22nd in the year of Our Lord 1805 for so long that nobody had any real idea what the date would have been by now. Most weren't inclined to care much, either repeating their 26 minutes or doing exactly as they pleased while the clocks snapped back to 11:36AM endlessly.
This was only happening because somebody was supposed to have died then and somehow they didn't and continue to live. She had been wandering the length and breadth of England ever since her father had collapsed on the shore, telling her that the source of the reset was here somewhere and it was now up to her to find them. She promised to honour his last wish, leaving his body where he lay, knowing that he'd be back in his boat when she killed the source and let time flick back to the original 12:02AM, July 22nd, 1805.
When things like this happen life has a tendency to try and "fix" the situation any way it can. Repeated lightning strikes are always what happens first, the primary sign that the person in question shouldn't be alive right now. Aside from stories of lightning strikes she kept her ears peeled for the other things her father had told her about - the anomalies that followed the source.
She would know when she found them by the way they watched their backs at all times, hopelessly paranoid that death would be on them in an instant if they weren't paying attention constantly and if she found them they'd be right. They'd be gone before they could beg for one more minute after the possible centuries they'd wasted running from the inevitable and freezing everyone else inside a loop.
Everyone but her. Everyone she knew probably had no idea she'd even gone missing, not even her father would know now. He'd be trying to pull in his nets while she hunted down the source. Perhaps she was another one of the world's fail-safes against death-breakers. She could live with that, the source would not.
This was only happening because somebody was supposed to have died then and somehow they didn't and continue to live. She had been wandering the length and breadth of England ever since her father had collapsed on the shore, telling her that the source of the reset was here somewhere and it was now up to her to find them. She promised to honour his last wish, leaving his body where he lay, knowing that he'd be back in his boat when she killed the source and let time flick back to the original 12:02AM, July 22nd, 1805.
When things like this happen life has a tendency to try and "fix" the situation any way it can. Repeated lightning strikes are always what happens first, the primary sign that the person in question shouldn't be alive right now. Aside from stories of lightning strikes she kept her ears peeled for the other things her father had told her about - the anomalies that followed the source.
She would know when she found them by the way they watched their backs at all times, hopelessly paranoid that death would be on them in an instant if they weren't paying attention constantly and if she found them they'd be right. They'd be gone before they could beg for one more minute after the possible centuries they'd wasted running from the inevitable and freezing everyone else inside a loop.
Everyone but her. Everyone she knew probably had no idea she'd even gone missing, not even her father would know now. He'd be trying to pull in his nets while she hunted down the source. Perhaps she was another one of the world's fail-safes against death-breakers. She could live with that, the source would not.
No comments:
Post a Comment