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Only Time Will Tell

My name is Harold Kenneth Jacob, they boy with three first names. I guess my parents thought they were comedians. Ha! Most likely they were stoned. A few hours after I was born, they tossed me onto the ice-crusted steps of St. Jude’s Catholic Church with a note pinned to my thin blanket that stated my name and date of birth. In their good humor they tucked a joint into the corner of the frayed blanket.

Naturally, I spent most of my youth in an orphanage; it seemed no one wanted a kid with three first names that was squeezed out of a birth canal laced with toxic barbiturates. It hurt seeing other kids being accepted by smiling couples, being adopted by people who wanted them. After awhile I stopped making friends, preferring to spend more and more time cloaked in my own miserable world of neglect.

For ten years my days were filled with school, bible study, chores and reading. Books were my friends; I especially loved science and how things worked, but I read almost anything I could find if it was non-fiction.

Life for me took a sudden change on a bright sunny day in May. Lucky for me the government changed a few laws about who could be foster and adoptive parents.

I was sitting in my normal spot on the second step from the top of the stairs alternating my attention between watching the kids playing kickball and reading the human anatomy and medical plants.

Two ladies came out of the door followed closely by Sister Anne. She wore her normal frown as she waddled to catch up to the ladies. She led them down the stairs and began to point out the children playing in the field.

The shorter lady with the soft glowing complexion and short blonde hair turned to the other woman to say something when our eyes locked. I remember thinking that I’d never seen someone with eyes that green. Sister Anne turned and scowled at me. I quickly scrambled to my feet and dashed inside.

For the next few weeks Susan and Kim began to visit me on a regular basis. Then they began taking me on short trips; to the movies, a theme park, dinner and some parks. It was the happiest summer of my life! On my eleventh birthday they asked if I would like to be adopted by them. I cried so hard that I couldn’t answer them, I could only cling to them a cry tears of joy.

Several months later the courts approved the adoption papers and sealed the day as the happiest day of my life. The pure joy I felt that day of finally being part of a family, of having two loving parents that didn’t just have me because of a sexual mistake, but who “wanted” me for who I was, made me feel so special that I just kept looking at them all day and thinking: “My Two Moms! I am the luckiest kid in the world!”

That was in 2005. I am from the year 2013. More like I was from the year 2013. At nineteen years old I find myself chiseling, yes chiseling, this story onto the wall of a cave. Behind me are half a dozen people crouched around a fire I made for them. They are a curious bunch. I am not sure what they think of me as I am still learning their language.

I’m still not sure what happened, but the event took place almost four months ago. Three hours after purchasing a motorcycle. Neither mom cared much for my choice of transportation but it was the cheapest form of travel I could afford. I tried to explain to them that I wanted to do this on my own, that they had given me so much over the years that I needed to prove to them and to myself that I could be independent.

Anyway, I was barreling down a desolate country road, enjoying the feel of the wind on my face. I say barreling, but I was doing the speed limit, not wanting to pinch my wallet dry by receiving a speeding ticket.

Ahead of me I could see a blanket of mist. Morning fog is very common in the country. But this fog looked funny, even from a mile away I could see that it shimmered in the early light. As I approached the strange mist I throttled back, afraid that a car might not see me if one happened to emerged from the mist. The farms scented the air with their smell of freshly turned soil and cow manure, but I smelled another odor. Like that of ozone, it stung my sinuses.

I approached the mist at thirty miles an hour. It ate my front wheel, then sucked me in. The air suddenly turned icy cold and the sun winked out. Complete and utter darkness surrounded me. I sucked in a terrified gasp of air and began to cough. There was nothing to breathe! The air was gone. I remember choking.

Suddenly the ground vanished beneath me and I was falling. It seemed I fell forever. I slammed into something solid and the breath literally whooshed out of me.

When I woke, I found myself in a forest of enormous trees. My motorcycle lay twisted at the base of a mammoth-size tree. All around me I could hear animals going about their business in the woods. A LOT of animals, more than what I was used to hearing.

The road, farms, and cows were gone. Sitting up made me feel like I was spinning. With a groan I fell back and darkness.

The next time I woke I found myself surrounded by a very curious bunch of people. In less than a second I knew something extraordinary and frightening happened to me. Somehow I managed to drive into a vortex of time, which it seems, took me back to prehistoric times.

The band of people around me, they were very early Homo Sapiens!

After four months among them I have had plenty of time to speculate on many scenarios. Based on the environment and population, I have estimated that I traveled almost 100,000 years into the past. Since I am not sure if going back is possible, I need to carefully think of my position among these people in this time period. Every action I make will be like a ripple effect, changing some aspect of my future.

I could literally change the future of the entire race!

Perhaps that is why I am here? Maybe God selected me to be the person to help make the future better for all people. What better place to start than in the distant past?

Luckily, I have consumed a vast amount of knowledge about science and understand the basic principles of how many things are made and how they work.

I have decided to teach these people many things to make their lives a lot easier. I am going to make them a peaceful people. No wars, no prejudices, no discrimination. People that care about people. They will not learn to hide behind a book and claim to be one thing while they deliberately do the opposite and justify their cruelty it in the name of an eternal being.

No. These people will learn that it is okay to be different. Being different is what separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom. Being different is what makes us human, it keeps us humble. We are unique; no two alike, not even twins are the same. They will learn not to hate, as hate is really the result of something that you don’t like about yourself.

No more wars. No more nuclear bombs. No more senseless hate. We will finally be one with the universe and with ourselves. I am sure my thoughts are already reshaping the future. Only time will tell.

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Posted by on August 19, 2012 in Fantasy, Sci-fi, Short Story

 

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