Threads of Life

Chapter Two

The time machine lurched forward, sending Edmund Breen flying across the confined space. His head slammed into the thick metal, and he almost felt the skin bruising as he reached up to delicately touch the already purple forehead. He mumbled under his breath, taking hold of his small green duffel bag, standing up just as the door slid aside. He cringed as he heard the shattered glass hit stone and stepped outside. Holding up a hand against the bright sun that glared down at him he quietly gasped, an exuberant smile lighting up his features.

The machine door opened and Edmund slowly stood, gripping his bag to his chest. Had it really, truly, worked? Had he just created a working time machine? It all seemed like he was walking in a haze, and that perhaps he would wake up now, if he just happened to...

He balled his hand into so tight a fist that he could feel sparks of pain all over his palm, and he knew he must be awake - or in a very, very  vivid dream.

The mirrored door opened - Edmund cringed slightly at the sound of shattered glass hitting stone - and he squinted out into darkness. He stepped outside, slinging the bag over his shoulder, an awe-struck look on his pale face. Nervously, he brushed the shaggy black hair from his eyes, looking around at his surroundings.

He was in an alley belonging to an eerily silent city, the cobblestoned streets and shadowed, vacant windows presenting an ominous atmosphere. Setting off at a brisk pace, staring at the inspiring and haunting silhouettes of Victorian housings, their shutters closed, their lights doused. In the distance, he could hear the faints of music floating through the air, leaving little wisps of beautiful sound for the eager ear.

“Probably a real, true-blue Gramophone. Sounds like an early version.” Breathed Edmund, his first words in this new world he had discovered a path to; the surreal, overwhelming sensation overcoming him again. But this time it arrived with a consuming nausea, and he leaned shakily against the nearest wall. Apparently, a similar sickness as flying accompanied time-travel. It wasn't surprising.
Hopefully, it would leave before too long. Edmund looked back at his work -  his machine - sitting helplessly in view of all who happened to venture into the alley. There was no way to hide it, besides throwing a large, tattered cloth over it, which he found in a questionable pile of trash nearby. He sighed, praying that whatever had helped him discover time-traveling would aid him in leaving the machine undetected until he found someplace to hide it.

It was far too late at night to appeal to kind-hearted souls to give him a place to sleep, as even kind-hearted souls have a limited amount of patience for vagabonds. He would have stayed in the machine, but the floor was no better than sleeping on the cobblestones, hard, and bumpy, and uncomfortable. Not to mention, the machine was programmed to keep itself a certain temperature, so as to not overheat, and he certainly wasn't prepared for a night sleeping on a freezing cold ground. No, after all this time, he had not prepared himself a place to sleep. Such simple things could throw one's plans back a step.

Intuition was a must now, so Edmund decided to find a vacant home, perhaps somewhere dry and relatively warm. Looking past the small, quaint, park he was walking through, he noticed a large, brick building ahead. Upon it, was the whitewashed bell tower, staring solemnly out on the rest of the city. Below the bell, was a clock, slowly ticking away the night.  Edmund smiled, making a quick dash across the grass surrounding the building. His way was lit by sooty street lamps, their lights dimming in the early morn. Jumping the small fence and reaching for the front door, he was amazed to find it open; the entrance illuminated by a single gas lamp on a table to his left. His intelligent green eyes searched around him anxiously, not believing the ease at which he had entered such a large and monumental place. The very black halls he faced seeped with power, and solemnity.

His shoes made little noise on the wooden floor, and it wasn't long before he accepted the excitement of wandering the building alone, his hurried searchings confirming that he was, indeed, the only soul in the mass hall. A hall for independence, and to get accustomed to his surroundings in this new time. He felt like one would imagine a king would feel whilst walking around his empty castle, no one around to dare oppose his presence.

He soon found an empty room, with little furniture, but a gorgeous glass chandelier overhead, catching Edmund's eye numerous times. Placing his bag upon a rough wooden bench, he lay down, pulling his jacket over himself as much as possible. It was going to be a long night, but at least he wasn't out in the streets. Technically.