Our Father - Part II

Good evening all,

Thanks for stopping by to visit my humble blog! The time has come for part II of my novella 'Our Father.' In case you missed it, part I can be found here. 'Our Father', follows the story of Yahweh, a God who lives within a community of Gods in the kingdom of Heaven, who is young and reckless, jealous and petty, and considered an upstart and a liability by all the other Gods. This tale follows him through the creation of a brand new world called Earth, and all the mistakes he makes along the way. And boy, are there a lot of them...

As ever, thanks for reading!

Eden

For the fist time in his existence, Yahweh felt worthy of his title, and his place amongst the Gods in the Kingdom. He looked down upon Eden, and all the creatures he had created with beaming pride and warmth in his heart.

The first man, whom Yahweh had crated from clay and named Adam, toiled away, tending to the garden, but Yahweh could see great loneliness in his eyes. So he commanded: ‘It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make a companion fit for him.’

So once more, Yahweh descended into Eden, and upon his arrival caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam. He leaned over the sleeping man, and from his chest he pulled a rib, out of which he created a mate for Adam. When Adam awoke he looked upon his new mate with joy, exclaiming: ‘This at last is bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh! She will be called woman, because she was taken out of man.'

The man and his new mate, who was named Eve, were happy in this paradise and Yahweh said unto them: ‘This is your home. Love it, tend to it – care for all the plants animals in it, for they are my gift to you. Be fruitful, go forth and multiply! Fill this land with your children! Work the land and nourish yourself with the fruits of your labour. From every tree of the garden you may freely eat, but from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, you may not eat. For the day that you eat from it you will surely die.’

So happy were the new pair, they agreed to their Lord’s commands and went of to enjoy the spoils of the Garden of Eden.

On the other side of the garden, from within the branches of a fig tree, the yellow eyes of a serpent watched as Adam and Eve toiled. But this was not one of God’s creations – this was an imitator. Venus had done as Jupiter had asked him and infiltrated Eden, hiding in the trees under the guise of a snake. He was ready to perform his test on Yahweh’s new creation.

In a shady corner of the garden, Eve, naked, though not ashamed of it, picked fruit from the fig trees when she heard a voice from between the leaves.

‘Eve,’ hissed the voice.

She turned and saw the serpent looking down at her from the branches. She wasn’t afraid. She knew no fear for she had no knowledge of good and evil.

‘Eve,’ the wheezing voice repeated. ‘Has God really said, "You shall not eat from any tree of the garden”?’

Eve replied: ‘We may eat from the trees of the garden, but of the fruit from the tree in the middle of the garden, God said, "Do not eat from it, and do not even touch it, or that day you will surely die."'

The snake smiled. Venus was getting into character. ‘Surely you will not die! For your God knows that on the day you eat from it, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like gods, knowing good and evil.'

Eve looked at the tree and trusted the snake. She pulled from its branches the most perfect apple ever to have existed and held it in front of her mouth.

‘Go on,’ hissed Venus. Though his words begged her to go on, Venus’s mind secretly hoped beyond hope that Eve would drop the apple and not give in to temptation. He hoped that his master’s creation was sound. He hoped Jupiter was wrong.

Alas, Eve bit into the apple and offered some to Adam. He too ate the fruit from the tree of knowledge.

Venus shed a tear and slithered off into the branches. His work was done.

Suddenly both Adam and Eve became aware aware that they were naked and they felt shame. Their eyes had been opened. They hurried to find fig leaves which they sewed together to cover themselves.

High above Eden, in the kingdom of heaven, Yahweh looked down with burning fury at his new creations covering themselves with fig leaves. In a crash of lightning and a blaze of fire, he cast himself back towards Eden, roaring: ‘They are my creation! They may not disobey me! I am their Lord! I am their Lord!’

When he came to Eden, the voice of God rang around the garden. ‘Where are you?’ he called out to the man and his mate. Yahweh was furious.

When they heard the angry voice of their God appearing from on high, Adam and Eve hid themselves in the bushes, but Yahweh soon found them and saw the fig leaves about their bodies. ‘What are these, about your person?’ he asked, seething.

Eve replied: ‘We are naked – we have sown together fig leaves to hide our shame.’

‘Who told you that you were naked?’ commanded Yahweh.

Neither Adam nor Eve replied.

‘Have you eaten from the tree of knowledge? The tree from which I told you not to eat?’

Eve told Yahweh all about the serpent, and how it had tricked them into eating the fruit.

Yahweh could not contain his fury. ‘What have you done?’ he bellowed. ‘As punishment for your actions – for your disobedience – I will cause you great trouble during pregnancy, and when you bear children, you will have great pain. You will desire your husband, and he will rule over you.!’

Around them the sky over Eden turned blood red with Yahweh’s anger.

‘And you,’ he said to Adam, ‘You listened to your wife, and ate the fruit which I commanded you not to eat. I hence forth put a curse on the ground! You will have to work very hard for food. The ground will produce weeds and thorns to stand in your way. You will toil, sweat and work hard for food, and eventually you will return to the ground. You once were dust, and so shall ye be again!’

And so Yahweh made Adam and Eve clothes from animal skins and cast them out of the paradise he had created for them and sent them out into the wilderness east of Eden.

The Fallen Angel

Yahweh came thundering back to Heaven in a blaze of fire and lightning and burst into the Great Hall where his mother and father and the rest of the heavenly committee sat, paying no attention to the angelic guards posted outside.

‘Yahweh,’ said his mother, barely startled by her son’s sudden appearance, ‘what brings you to the Great Hall? Should you not be tending to your new flock?’

‘I am betrayed!’ thundered Yahweh in response. ‘I have been tricked and used! Somebody wants my creation to fail, and they have planted the seeds of destruction in my work!’

Jupiter rose to his feet, towering above his son and turned the flames that were coming from Yahweh into wisping, lifeless smoke. ‘If your creation is bound for destruction, then it is the fruit of seeds you yourself have sown – nobody else. The creation is only as strong the creator.’

‘But,’ said Yahweh, ‘an impostor has snuck himself into my Garden of Eden and tricked mankind into disobeying me!’

‘Your creation has been tested. Your people are not as controlled as you had hoped.’

‘What can be expected for a creation that only took seven days?’ The mocking voice of one of the elders echoed from the other side of the hall. ‘Some things cannot be rushed.’

The fury within Yahweh was visibly rising again, and he turned with his mouth open towards the elder preparing to respond, when a nod from his father told him to tread carefully. He turned again towards his father. ‘But who has tested my world? Who has dared to test the almighty Yahweh?’

‘I did, Yahweh.’

Yahweh took a step back. ‘You, Father? But why? Have you no faith in me?’

Jupiter sat back down next to his wife and turned to his son. ‘You have not yet proven yourself worthy of the power of creation, and it was certainly not my idea to allow you it. You have shown yourself to be short sighted, cruel, jealous and work-shy in the past - far too immature in many of our eyes. When you created this world in seven days – a short stretch by anyone’s standards, we wanted to be sure it was worthy.’

‘And you, father,’ replied Yahweh, ‘you snuck into Eden and tricked my Adam and my Eve?’

‘I did not.’

The rage began to boil as Yahweh hissed his words through curled lips. ‘Then who? Who has dared to test me? Let them feel my wrath!’

Thoah entered the Great Hall and bowed before Jupiter. ‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘the Angel Venus is here at your request.’

Yahweh looked into his father’s eyes and knew the truth.

‘Send him in,’ said Jupiter.

‘Venus? My own angel? My own servant?’ He heard Venus’s footsteps behind him. ‘He will pay dearly for this.’

Yahweh turned around and lit up in a blaze of fire and lightning. ‘Venus! How dare you test your master? What have you done? You have destroyed my creation! And you will pay! You will be sent to a lake of fire for eternity! There you will suffer in the darkness and brimstone with all your Angels for your disobedience!’

‘My Lord…’ stuttered Venus, ‘…this is hardly fair-’

‘Fair is not a factor in this, Venus, you have betrayed me! It is MY world! MY creation! I am your master and you will do as I command of you! Now be gone!’

And a pit as black as night opened underneath Venus and his angels, and they were swallowed into the hellfire.

Poetry - Infidels

How dare he dare to write a book
That preaches words of hatred?
And smear our only saviour’s name
And strip him of all that’s sacred.

No, we shall have his tongue for this,
And have his bloody head
A fatwa on this infidel!
Bring him to me dead.

How dare he dare to choose his mind?
And think that he is free?
How dare he poison others minds?
How dare he disagree?

No, God would not permit these sins,
And neither will his men
Let them know one final time,
The sword will beat the pen.

Our Father - The story of a God who didn't believe in himself.

Hello all,

I realise it's been a while since I posted some fiction on kitfosterfiction, so I've decided to post an excerpt from the new novella I'm writing, which will be part of a larger work, entitled 'The Children of Disobedience' which should hopefully be complete by the end of this summer. This extract, which is from a story called 'Our Father', follows the story of Yahweh, a God who lives within a community of Gods in the kingdom of Heaven, who is young and reckless, jealous and petty, and considered an upstart and a liability by all the other Gods. This tale follows him through the creation of a brand new world called Earth, and all the mistakes he makes along the way. And boy, is there a lot of them - as anyone who has even glanced at a bible will know! The story will pretty much comprise of the tale of the bible, only told from a very different perspective.

Hope you enjoy - please comment and let me know what you think!

‘God is Dead; but given the way of men, there may still be caves for thousands of years in which his shadow will be shown. And we — we still have to vanquish his shadow, too.’

- Friedrich Nietzsche


Yahweh

In the time before time, before the seas were filled and the mountains rose to touch the sky; before the sky even, there was born unto the heavens a race of Gods. Few among them knew where they themselves came from, but they had been around for a long time; perhaps forever – not even they knew. Such a trivial human concept as time did not concern them, anyhow; they were content just to be. As gods do, they had, by human standards, infinite powers and were capable of the power of creation. That was their crowning achievement, their greatest skill – the power to breathe life where is none. Each God carefully crafted the world of his own creation and watched as it bloomed millennium after millennium. Like gardeners tending to their allotments they watched and coaxed life into action.

Yahweh wasn’t like the other gods. It was clear to his mother and father and all of his older siblings that he wasn’t the same as them. He lacked the foresight that his elders had, and of all the Gods in the kingdom of heaven (his own father included) considered him to be an upstart. He was quick to temper and was rarely given any responsibility because of his recklessness. His older brother, who had, like his father and his father before him, been entrusted with the power of creation used to tease him about his shortcomings, telling him that he could never amount to anything. The power of creation was a right reserved only for those who had shown their maturity, and Yahweh was still not deemed worthy.

But rather than contain his temper and recklessness and further his maturity, deprivation of the power of creation only frustrated Yahweh further. He would watch as the elders boasted their fine creations – beautiful, thriving, harmonious worlds which they tended to with great care and attention. How he longed to care for a world of his own, how he longed to do what he was intended to do.

His mother saw the sadness in her son’s eyes and decided to take pity on him, so she called him to her side and said: ‘My son, you are young and you still have much to learn, however it is your right as one of us, that you should be trusted with the power of creation as was your father and his father before. May you use your gift wisely an may it bring you happiness and maturity.’

And so it was that Yahweh, much to the disapproving disgruntlement of his father and others amongst the elders of the Gods, was given the gift of creation.



Creation

And so Yahweh thanked his mother for the pity she had shown him, and went to create his new world.

First he created the earth. It was a dark, vast pool without form. Then he commanded through the darkness: ‘Let there be light!’
And there was light. Yahweh saw the light and he separated it from the darkness. He called the light day and the dark night. And so the darkness came – and so too came the light. This was the first day - and it was good.

On the second day, he commanded that there should be something to divide the water, and so the water split in two, with a body of air in the middle. He called this the sky.

Then he commanded: ‘Let the waters under heaven be gathered together unto one place and let the dry land appear!’
And it was so. Yahweh called the land earth and the water seas. And it was good.
And Yahweh looked down upon his newly created earth and said, 'Let the land produce seed-bearing plants and fruit-bearing trees of every kind.’ And it was so. From the barren earth shot up thousands of plants and trees all over the planet. Yahweh saw the fruits of his work – and it was good. This was the third day.

On the fourth day, he created lights in the sky to separate night from day. These would be the markers of the seasons, years and days. He created the sun to warm the days and the moon and stars to mark the coming of night.

Yahweh observed his new world with pride: the flowing oceans, the sky full of burning trophies of his work, and the land, rich with fruit and seed bearing plants. It was good, but still incomplete.

On the fifth day, Yahweh called out across the land: 'Let the waters swarm with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the sky.' And it was so. All over this new land, animals of all kinds sprung up and took their lives. The seas filled with fish and other sea creatures, the sky filled with birds and other winged beasts taking flight for the very first time, and the land bore cattle and insects and all the other wild creatures of the land.

He looked down upon the new beasts of the world and saw that it was good, before calling out to them: ‘Be fruitful and multiply! Fill the seas, land and sky alike!’

On the sixth day, Yahweh crated someone to watch over these beasts. From the clay in the ground, he moulded a creation in his own image – Man, into which he breathed the gift of life through his nostrils. The man took his first breath and sprang to life before Yahweh’s eyes. He saw the man – and it was good. Then he said unto him: ‘Rule over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and every creature that moves on the ground. I give you every seed-bearing plant and every fruit-bearing tree on the face of the earth to be yours for food. And to all the animals of the earth, all the birds of the air, and to all the creatures that move on the ground, I give every green plant for food.’

Yahweh looked down upon his completed work. It was good. He was so proud; he could not wait to show his mother and father.

He was pleased with his works, and on the seventh day he rested.

Venus

Jupiter, Yahweh’s father looked down upon his son’s creation with great interest and sighed as he turned to his wife. ‘Never before has any God completed creation in seven days… he can’t have done a thorough job.’

His wife replied that it was essential that they trust him, and that ‘He can only begin to grow if we allow him to spread his wings – he has to be given responsibilities. He is still young-’

‘He’s irresponsible,’ he snapped back. ‘He’s irresponsible, quick to temper, and he has no foresight. You should never have trusted him with creation. Not yet at least.’

‘He has to learn-’
‘Never before in the whole kingdom has there been a child like him.’

Suddenly, Thoah - one of Jupiter’s archangels, came striding in and bowed before his superiors. ‘My Lord,’ he said, addressing Jupiter. ‘Venus seeks an audience with you. He is waiting outside.’

‘Send him in,’ replied Jupiter, nodding towards the angel.
‘Venus?’ said Hera, Yahweh’s mother. ‘He’s one of Yahweh’s angels… what news has he?’
‘I called for him.’
‘You called for him…? What have you planned…?’

Moments later, a beautiful angel with flowing blond hair and a face like lightning came striding in towards Jupiter.

‘Venus!’ said Jupiter to the angel.
‘My Lord,’ said Venus bowing at the feet of his superior. ‘You sent for me?’
‘I did. You are assigned to my son, Yahweh, are you not?’
‘I am indeed,’ replied Venus.
‘How do you find him?’ asked Jupiter, ‘as a master?’
Venus rose to his feet and stood two steps back, his head still bowed in reverence to this elder of the Gods who had invited him to his audience. ‘He has always been good to me and my angels. He was very glad to be granted the power of creation.’
‘This lack of power,’ interrupted Yahweh’s mother, ‘it frustrated him in the past?’
Venus hesitated before replying. ‘Yes,’ he said at last.
‘Did he speak to you about it?’ asked Jupiter.
‘On occasion. I believe he felt somehow inadequate before he was granted this power. He felt as though his peers had little faith in him. After a while he began to lose faith in himself.’
‘And you,’ said Jupiter, ‘do you have faith in him?’
Venus hesitated. ‘He is my master,’ he eventually replied. ‘I have faith in any God – and when all is said and done he is no different. It is not my place to judge any God, my lord; I am but an angel – a slave to your grace – Yahweh’s worth will be proved by his works, and not by words of mine.’
‘You are a loyal servant,’ said Yahweh’s mother.
Venus bowed in appreciation.

‘I have a job for you, Venus,’ said Jupiter. ‘I wish to test the strength of my son’s creation, to see if he has created a world fit to be inhabited.’
‘And what is my task?’
‘You will go down to this place Yahweh has created – you will find the Garden of Eden - that is the paradise that Yahweh has given to this 'Man' of his, and you will give his 'Man' a choice.’

After the Revolution - Paperback and eBook now available!

Hi all!

As you can probably tell from the sexy link to the right of this text, my novella 'After the Revolution' is now available to buy on Lulu.com for the low low price of £3:59 for the paperback and £2:39 for the ebook. That's only the price of a cup of coffee, so you can't lose! Buy your copy today and follow Alex on his journey through London in the year 2060, as Britain is a country at war in the grip of Wilson, the ruthless dictator who bullied himself in to power during the British revolution in the 2030's.

'After the Revolution' will also be available from Amazon.com and other online retailers in the beginning of August, but you can get a sneak advance preview at a discounted price from Lulu.com!

So please come across to Lulu using the link below and check it out!

http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/after-the-revolution/15592064

Poetry - Spring

For my favourite season...

Spring

Hello there, old friend… yes I’m sure we’ve met before.

Your sunlight warmed my face before.

Where have you been? They said you were dead.

Were you hiding?

Were those your sleepy eyes that crept out from under the blanket of ice?

Was it you who secretly incubated this year’s young

Whilst the world outside froze and died?

They sent you into exile, didn’t they?

They forced your warmth and bright colours into hiding,

The land now favouring a thousand shades of blue and white

As your evil sibling wreaked havoc upon it.

But you have returned - you have reclaimed your throne; you always do.

You called upon your armies of daffodils and snowdrops,

And green buds like bullets hanging in the air,

And executed the revolution upon your tyrannical brother beautifully,

Just like you always do.

Welcome back, old friend.

Poetry - The American Wet Dream

Hello all, this is a poem which was written as kind of a response to Allen Ginsberg's 1956 poem 'America', which sought to represent his anger and disillusionment with his homeland during that period - the age of McCarthyism and Cold war fever. the original poem can be found here. My response, written in the same chaotic, stream of conciousness style, tries to investigate what, if anything, has changed, 55 years on.

Thanks for reading!

The American Wet Dream

Toss me a hand grenade - I think there’s one in my raincoat.

April 15th, 2011, War number whoknowswhat- the final destruction of our United States of consciousness.

America says we don’t do that kind of thing anymore.

We are at peace, she says.

We are the candle of hope and we light the torches around the world.

We are the protectors, she says.

Freedom - one nation under God.

But where is God now?

Nietzsche was right, he’s dead.

We killed him. America killed him. I don’t think we’re sorry, either.

Joe, if you could only see us now – you’d be so proud.

Too bad you couldn’t stick around to see the fruits of your labour.

We’re still finding them, rooting out the ‘ists’.

Bringing them to justice, just like you taught us.

Your lessons did not go ignored, how could they?

We are the tail-gunners now that you're gone.

But your rose of protection is covered in thorns, Joe.

It’s ripping the garden apart. Thank you Joe.

The past lies like a nightmare upon the present, that's what them Russians once said - them knew the truth.

The times they have a-changed, just like Zimmerman said they would.

But you haven’t changed, America.

You still silence your people and spy on your children,

Just like you always have.

Is that how a patriot acts?

No no, fuck this. You know all this already, America.

Ginsberg already told you, but I don’t think you were listening.

January 17, 1956 – remember?

You know who you are, America,

One nation under God.

The Time changes, or is it just the man of the year that changes?

No, everything changes.

Everything changes but you, America.

Roses grow in the garden now,

And the garden is forced to care for them equally,

but how it longs to cover them in branches,

To hide these godless creatures from the sun.

One nation under God.

Freedom? Freedom died in your arms long ago.

With one hand you caressed it and begged it to stay strong.

With the other you held the pillow and smothered its face until all of the life had drained.

You left it for dead, America. Suffocated and empty.

One nation under God.

One Nation under God, indivisible.

In your offspring's name you are the world's protector;

you send your sons and daughters to be fitted for coffins.

You sold your children to Chaos, just like you always have,

but did anyone check his heart, to see if it was still there,

when Johnny came marching home?

The children don’t like it when Uncle Sam comes to visit.

He makes them do things. Horrible things – things that they shouldn’t speak about.

Whatever happened to the heroes?

To Kerouac, Kesey, and Ginsberg? And them alike too?

Gone, she told me.

Our founding fathers have turned to dust.

They beat it long ago.

But it’s not the flesh and blood that matters. Not to me anyway.

It’s the idea. The spirit. The legacy – that’s what’s important.

The decade changes, but still the witch hunts go on.

Everyone’s a terrorist.

Everyone’s offended.

Everything else changes, America.

Everything changes but you.

The American dream? Sure, I remember that.

The American wet dream they call it now -

the greatest thing on earth until you wake up and realise what is truly going on.

Wake up America.

You promised us Freedom, America.

You promised us hope, America.

America, you promised us love.

You promised us justice, America.

You promised us change, America.

You betrayed us.

After the Revolution - Part 9

Good morning, all! This is the final part of 'After the Revolution' - the (hopefully) thrilling conclusion. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and thank you again to everyone who has taken the time to look at it. If anyone would like a hard copy of the book then please contact me through the comments section. Thank you again.

After the Revolution - Part Nine

Nineteen

(After the Revolution)

Alex’s heart raced as he darted through the war torn streets of the city that had once been his home. Desperately running, trying not to think about the agonising pain in his back, his mind set on one thing. Home. He needed to wake up from this nightmare, and he needed to wake up soon. He kept to the darkness, hiding in the shadows of the twisted remains of buildings for fear of being picked up by Wilson’s POLA again. Ralph was gone. He thought about the child’s body, lying so still on the cellar steps. He was an innocent. What had he done to deserve that fate? He was just a child; another innocent casualty of Wilson’s regime.

As Alex approached the abandoned school where he had left his machine, the fist few flakes of a snowfall began to drift silently through the dark air. Even the snow here looked grey and bleak. It looked polluted… had Wilson taken that to? As the snowflakes drifted towards the ground, they landed in thick piles of ash from the air raid and rested in puddles of grey slush.

Alex looked left and right. They’re watching me… They’re waiting for me… Stoltz was right… they’re always watching. When he was sure that all was clear, he began to climb across the rubble towards the school.

Bernard flipped the switch on the television, stunned that the power was still running, and watched the screen come to life. He had been hiding out in this classroom, next to some huge metal machine for two nights now and this was the first time it had occurred to him to try the television.

No signal, of course. Just static.

He picked up a DVD from the teacher’s desk and looked at the cover. It read ‘Britain after the Revolution: How Wilson reclaimed Great Britain for the people.’ Bernard actually laughed out loud as he read the title to himself and looked at the artist’s impression of a gleaming and prospering London on the front cover. He’d watched these kind of videos at school as a child; Wilson’s standard classroom propaganda.

It’s not exactly primetime entertainment, he thought as he slipped it into the player, but it’ll do under the circumstances.

As Alex approached the door to the classroom, he began to hear something coming from inside. Talking. He stood for a minute, listening to the sound through the wall. He couldn’t pick out any individual words, just a mumble of sounds. He knew he had to go in there, people or not. His only chance of escaping this world lay on the other side of that wall; and he had to escape. Slowly he pulled the gun that he had seized from the POLA guard up to his face and turned the corner and into the classroom through the hole in the wall. As he stood on the threshold, pointing his weapon into the dark disused classroom, he saw his machine, illuminated only by the glow of the blaring television that stood next to it. In front of the television, he saw a man sitting with his back to Alex in the teacher’s chair watching the screen. Before he even had time to think about what he was doing, the words bellowed out of his mouth.

‘What are you doing?’

The man jumped up and turned around to face Alex, eyeing the gun in his hand. ‘Whoa, mate… take it easy. I found this place… I found it fair and square. Let’s not do anything rash.’

Alex coughed, and snapped through pained breaths. ‘Get out of here. Now.’

‘Come on mate,’ replied the man. ‘We all need a place to hide these days… I found this place… Just let me be.’

‘You found this place… but I’ve got the gun. Now move.’ Alex began to walk towards the man, any fear he would have once felt now soaked in adrenaline. ‘Move!’

The man began to walk towards Alex, shuffling towards the other end of the room with his hands raised. ‘Okay, mate,’ he said, ‘you’ve got the gun.’ When he had passed Alex, he began to run and darted out through the hole in the wall.

As Bernard stood on the mound of rubble and looked out towards the decaying city, he shivered and pulled his collar around his neck, anticipating another night of the bitter cold. He turned back and looked only once towards the school.

Idiot.

Alex felt comforted to see his machine. It was something comforting… something he knew; something from his world. He glanced briefly at the television screen as he leapt into his machine, ready to return home. He pulled the door closed and prepared to leave, but as he tried to power up, something was wrong. Shit. It wouldn’t go. It couldn’t get enough power up. He leapt out of the machine, barely even noticing the searing pain in his back anymore to assess what the damage was. As he circled the machine, he suddenly felt a terrible feeling of claustrophobia. He felt trapped. Would he ever return home?

Then he saw it. One of the side panels had come loose and it looked like something had been chewing the wires. Stupid bloody rats.

He immediately dropped to his knees and began to repair the damage as best he could with no tools. His heart began to pound in his chest as he anticipated being stuck in this world forever. As he worked, he listened to the television that was still blaring in the corner of the room.

‘… and then thirty years ago, the world changed forever, when Wilson led the Great Britain to victory, defeating the Conservative government who were crippling the country, and restoring power to the people in the British Revolution. But our great leader came from humble beginnings. He was born in London where he was raised by his mother…’

As Alex worked, he glanced up at the screen. As he did, his blood turned to ice and his stomach turned to lead. There, on the screen, looking out through her big dark eyes, was the face he had seen all week, every time he closed his eyes. Looking down at him from the television screen was his wife. He froze and stared intently at the screen.

‘…Wilson adopted his mother’s maiden name from birth, after his father…’ Alex felt physically sick as he saw a photograph of himself flash on the screen. ‘…was locked up in the Stewart Mental Institution for attempting to kill his wife when she was pregnant with Wilson. Many speculate that it was because of this trauma to his life and his mother’s life that led Wilson to have such strong morals regarding leadership and guidance…’

Alex was numb as he replayed what he had just heard again and again in his head. Tears began to stream down his face. All of this… It’s my fault… It’s all because of me.

Still he kept tweaking at wires, trying to repair the loose connections as his world crumbled around him.

At last he finished, and unsure if the thing would even work, he replaced the panel and began to climb back in. He clutched Ralph’s scarf tightly as he pulled the door closed, taking one last look at the terrifying nightmare that he had travelled to, and began to power up the machine. This time it felt different, he could feel that it was working better. He set the coordinates for the exact point in time that he had left from and took a deep breath as he prepared to engage. Suddenly there was a flash of blinding light, and a deafening roar. Alex snapped his eyes tightly shut and tensed every muscle in his body as the machine began to shake underneath him.

Then, just as quickly as it had come, the light disappeared and Alex tentatively opened his eyes. All he could see was smoke; thick smoke. Did it work?

With the little strength Alex had left, he pushed the hatch door open and fell on to the ground. He lay on the floor, shaking and taking deep, exhausted breaths, trying his best to see anything through the smoke. Then he heard a voice, slipping through the grey fog.

‘A… Alex?’

As Alex turned, he looked up and saw her, and just before he lost consciousness, he managed to speak.

‘Annie? Is that you, Annie? I… I’m back…’

‘…I’m back.’

Twenty

(Present Day)

The trial didn’t last long. It was pretty much unanimously agreed that he was guilty. Even Alex knew that. And then there he was, back in a cell again. Back in the darkness, only this time he didn’t have Ralph by his side to comfort him. Ralph wouldn’t even exist for another forty years. Forty years… and it seems like just yesterday.

He looked up at the grey walls that towered around him; it could be fifty or a hundred years from his own time. How would he know? There is no way to keep time in this cell. They thought that he was a madman… they thought he was dangerous… so they threw him in here for the rest of his time on this earth. What did time really mean, anyway? It could be the very dawn of time or the end of the world and it would be all the same to Alex. No windows… no contact. They’ll turn me into a madman…

But he had done what was right. He had done what needed to be done. They didn’t know it… they would never know it… be he saved them all. Now there will be no revolution. He thought about that seed; that seed of evil that was growing inside his wife. He had stopped it – for the greater good.

He laughed as he found himself muttering the same three words over and over to himself.

Power… Strength… Freedom.

Power… Strength… Freedom, Power… Strength… Freedom.

Not anymore. He had saved them all… and all it had cost was his life and freedom.

How had this all begun? Alex though back to his messy workshop and the device. Only a matter of weeks ago it had meant everything to him… But now it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Alive or dead… free or incarcerated… none of it mattered anymore.

How could a heap of metal cause so much trouble?

Some things are too great for man to cope with. No man should know what lies ahead. It’s enough to send him mad.

Alex jumped as the metal shutter on his cell door screeched open and a long shaft of light poured into the black room. A steel food tray was pushed through the opening, and the guard on the other side hissed through.

‘Hey,’ he said, sneering, ‘I just thought you’d like to know… she’s gonna be fine. Your girl? The one you beat up? She’s gonna be fine… you failed, you piece of shit.’ The guard slammed the shutter closed and cell was once again in darkness.

No… It can’t be true. He had left her for dead. He thought she was dead. All my work could be in vain! The baby couldn’t survive… It can’t have.

Alex stood up and began to pace the tiny cell, hoping and praying that all he had done had not been in vain; that he had stopped the revolution.

He began to get frustrated and started banging on the wall, shouting at the top of his lungs to anyone who could hear him.

‘You don’t know what you’re doing! He’ll kill us all!’ he banged louder on the steel door. ‘Everything will change after the revolution! Can you hear me? Can you hear me you vile pigs? Power! Strength! Freedom!’

* * * * * *

‘It’s a miracle!’ said the nurse, turning to her colleague, who was washing her hands. ‘Have you ever seen anything like it in all your days?’ She looked down as she placed the newly delivered baby into the incubator. ‘He’s a little fighter.’ As she turned around to take a wristband from the highest shelf, she caught a glimpse of the mother, lying on the bed with a sheet over her head. ‘What a shame the poor soul lost his mother, though… what did she say her name was?

The other nurse wiped a tear from her eye as she dried her hands. ‘Annie. Her husband beat her up - nearly killed her. They locked him away for a very long time. It’s a miracle she survived long enough to deliver this little fella.’

‘…what a shame.’ The nurse pulled a tiny wristband from a box on the highest shelf and flipped the lid from her pen and sat poised. ‘What’s the mother’s maiden name?’

The other nurse checked her notes and looked up.

‘Wilson…’

The End