Due to family commitments, I did not get any writing done yesterday. So my idea (for now anyway) is to write as a blog for the month. So what follows is the start of this years novel. It will appear for a couple of days before being locked away somewhere. What follows will make no sense at times and wont always be the required word count for the day. I may also add bits in out with here, depending on where I am at the time and what is available to me.
Yet it will be a story and while you may need to read it all to have the bits fall into place, it will be worth it…I hope!
I love the world
“I wish you would not wear the local clothes. You look like a walking advert”
The woman, in her branded hooded top and tracksuit leggings sighed. He always complained about her choice of attire. Being a time travelling temporal agent for the mysterious artists two, was a responsibility that she did not take lightly. When she travelled to the various time zones and realities, she did her best to fit in and not attract suspicion.
He did not even try.
As far as the Laird was concerned, the time they spent in the field was so trivial that the last thing the people that lived there cared about, was whether someone looked odd. So he wore his black top hat with his long frock coat and carried his silver topped cane as though it was the usual way you dressed for any situation. There had been some long lingering stares as they had arrived at the railway station and boarded the train but very soon the commuters had gone back to looking at their mobile phones.
Damn him, he was right….again!
As the train pulled away from the station, the Laird removed his hat and held it in front of him. The carriage was uncomfortably warm and occasionally he would use it to fan himself. She turned her attention to the flask that she held in her hands. The gleaming sheen from the metal casing seemed to light up the area around her but this was just her mind playing tricks on her. To the outside world, it looked as if she was holding a book, the illusionists had been very clever when they designed it. What swilled about within was so important that it needed to be kept safe.
The two of them stood in silence as the train made its way to this realities Aberdeen. She had once attempted small talk with him but the Laird just dismissed her. They were working and there would be time enough for chatter later, he said.
Or had it been the Colonel? To be honest she could not exactly remember. that was the problem with doing this job. There was a lot of criss crossing done and it was not always possible to keep your own timeline and companions in the correct order.
The Laird had been staring straight ahead the entire journey, almost as if he was looking straight through the train to where they journeyed to. There were many stories about him and what he could do but in all the time she had worked with him, he had just been a very normal man. Still they do say that you write your own legend and she was convinced that some tales of his exploits had been started by him. Further muddying the waters of the enemy agents perception.
“Could you release it now if you please?”
His voice had cut through the usual train noise like a razor, shattering her day dreaming. Obediently she twisted the flask along the seal and pointed the opened end towards the carriage roof.
Time particles in their raw form looked like little liquid chrome butterflies, as they rose silently to the roof and flowed throughout the whole carriage. Instantly the passengers were frozen, stuck in that particular moment. The laird moved quickly and placed the reader from the device against the nearest train window. The digital display started to whirr and a strange melody could be heard.
“Kashmir folk music” he answered her before she asked the question, “Seems to have the correct vibration.”
That was when she saw the people in the reflections. Almost mirror images of the people who were sat silently and still in the train carriage. Almost but not quite. They were wearing different clothes to the branded sportswear of this reality. The colours seemed more vibrant.
They were also angry. their faces contorted as if they were screaming abuse at each other. However they were looking at the occupants of the train carriage through the windows.
The Laird took a note of the numbers that appeared on the digital display and then pulled the reader from the window, leaving a perfect oblong mark where it had been just seconds before.
“Come on.” he spoke with some urgency. Then he took a step to the right and disappeared through the travel link tube that she had not seen him create. Quickly she followed and managed to make it just as the time particles expired and the carriage carried on as before. The Artists Two would want to hear their report and it did not pay to keep them waiting.