#TimeTravelingGhost EP 8: Post 82: 2025 Arkham

#Wss366 Irish & #StPatricksDay #TimeTravelAuthors 03/17. Patient or patience in your story

Rather than leave the way we had come, I decided to time-trip out. The less information we gave our foes, the better. Apparently, they knew we could time-travel, but we could hold dematerialization as a trump card.

I took Emily’s hand and thought about our next destination. “Take us to my university office on the day the pink rat arrives from the future.”

The familiar sensations of time-tripping took over, and we appeared in a small academic office. Green streamers hung from the window, and a mega plushy papillon wearing an emerald top hat sat in the guest chair. A small plastic Buddha rested on the desk next to a picture of a young woman and me. Behind them stood the brick wall of an #Irish pub. The picture triggered a sense of profound sadness, but no memories.

Emily burst out laughing when she saw the clothes I’d manifested. “Nice duds. Is that what the daring avant-garde wear in your time? Absurd, but it’s charming in its own way.”

I pulled the floppy hat down and the N95 mask up higher, hoping they might hide how red my cheeks were. They probably matched the large cherry-red sunglasses I was sporting. I’d considered wearing a hijab but was unsure about the cultural implications of a nonbeliever wearing one. “I told you I don’t want people to see two Professor Henrietta Dubois’s.”

“Professor Tweedledee and Dum,” Emily joked.

I tipped up my glasses and rolled my eyes. She laughed.

“And this must be a young Tweedle-dumb,” she said, looking at the picture. “You look happy.

She stopped, tapped a signature, and said, “Whose Sarah Lockwell?” The amusement on her face had faded.

“I don’t remember.” My response wasn’t an evasion. I truly didn’t remember.

“Shame,” she said, but it didn’t sound as if she meant it.

Next, she walked around the desk, materialized her hand, and opened the bottom drawer. “Brandy. You were a bit of a lush, weren’t you, Professor Dumb?”

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m a spy, sleuthing.”

“Well, be careful. You’ll get caught snooping.”

“You’re the only one who can see me.”

“Right, I forgot.”

After that, I sat #patiently on the edge of the guest chair while Emily continued to investigate. “Faustus Pakt, Liber Juratus, Pompilius’ Spiegel,” she read as she browsed the books on a shelf. “You had quite an interest in Faust and medieval grimoires.”

Having no memory of my prior reading, I didn’t comment.

Emily had moved back to the desk when the door opened, interrupting her investigation. In the corridor stood an outraged Professor Dubois, carrying a pink rat in a cage.

Medieval Grimoires:

#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #Series #SaintPatricksDay

#TimeTravelingGhost EP 7 Post 81: 12 May 1999: London

#Wss366 Sock #MastoPrompt Humble #TimeTravelAuthors 03/15. Does anyone have fun (or want to have fun) with time travel?

When Nostradamus spoke next, he had adopted the clipped accent of a Londoner. “I know you won’t take this advice, but you'd be better off enjoying your travels than meddling in divine affairs.”

“1900s Paris is lovely. You would enjoy it. The World's Fair was fabulous. Or how about settling into a #humble croft in Cornwall? You could enjoy the peace and quiet, not to mention the fresh country air. Or maybe somewhere more idyllic, like Tahiti before Captain Wallis arrived? I will say nothing of your visit here if you say nothing of what I have told you.”

I wanted to #sock his smug face. His advice amounted to, “Ignore the evil around you and have fun.”

Emily and I had discussed this several times, and enjoyed the pleasures of wherever we ended up. However, we wouldn’t let evil fester without at least trying to do something about it. After all, we were the “chosen ones.” In my words: “Fair may be foul and foul may be fair, but something stinks in Denmark.”

Rather than say that, I equivocated. “You might be right. We've discussed getting a villa in Versailles.”

“Prudent. While you're there, invest in some Monet or Tissot paintings before they become wildly famous. Though I warn you, 1789 is a terrible year.”

From the enslaved populace songs, chants and demands,
While princes and lords are held captive in prisons.
These will in the future by headless idiots
Be received as divine prayers.

          [Nostradamus, Les Prophéties, Quatrain I.14]

“Now, if you will excuse me, I have a consultation with the president of Sole Fruit,” the prophet said, waving toward the door.

Nostradamus:

#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #Serial