The traveller's last secret
by Kenny Wilson
Genre: Fantasy/Sci-Fi
Swearwords: None.
Description: A very short story about overdone bacon.
Swearwords: None.
Description: A very short story about overdone bacon.
This was it. Now was the time. Would it work? The traveller set the dials, checked the readings and.........and he paused. Would it really work? What might go wrong? He re-checked and paused again, then checked again and again. Time now; 1800 hours, 23rd September, 2034, Time to; 1800 hours, 30th September, 2034. Starting location 3490:9864, to location; 3490:9864. What could go wrong?
He looked around. Had anything happened? He looked at his laboratory clock; 6pm, but it was the small digits beside the 6 that interested him. It had worked! They said so! The 30th September! He had done it! He tried to curb his excitement, tried to slow his racing pulse, tried to remember what the drill was to be. ‘Must not move off this seat, look around, observe, take photos, take notes’, why had he not brought a dictaphone with him? The window told him it was raining outside, last week it was dry. Maybe he could move around a little? No, he must stick to rules he had made, a little more each time, not everything at once. After a few minutes he had completed his tasks, pictures and notes done. He set his dials for the return. A simple reversal of the previous settings. He took one last look around and pressed the button.
The evening cleaners found the body at about 8pm. Later they told the police they had smelt a faint burning smell, ‘like cooked bacon’. A few days beyond, the police ascertained he had died about 2 hours previous. They put it down to being electrified but in truth they were a little baffled. But at least there had been no suspicious circumstances.
About 1800 hours on the 30th September, Security logged a sensor activation, suggesting someone was in the dead professor’s lab. On further inspection nothing was found. Security put it down to the heavy rain storm. The guard who inspected the activation had noticed a faint smell of bacon in the laboratory.
He looked around. Had anything happened? He looked at his laboratory clock; 6pm, but it was the small digits beside the 6 that interested him. It had worked! They said so! The 30th September! He had done it! He tried to curb his excitement, tried to slow his racing pulse, tried to remember what the drill was to be. ‘Must not move off this seat, look around, observe, take photos, take notes’, why had he not brought a dictaphone with him? The window told him it was raining outside, last week it was dry. Maybe he could move around a little? No, he must stick to rules he had made, a little more each time, not everything at once. After a few minutes he had completed his tasks, pictures and notes done. He set his dials for the return. A simple reversal of the previous settings. He took one last look around and pressed the button.
The evening cleaners found the body at about 8pm. Later they told the police they had smelt a faint burning smell, ‘like cooked bacon’. A few days beyond, the police ascertained he had died about 2 hours previous. They put it down to being electrified but in truth they were a little baffled. But at least there had been no suspicious circumstances.
About 1800 hours on the 30th September, Security logged a sensor activation, suggesting someone was in the dead professor’s lab. On further inspection nothing was found. Security put it down to the heavy rain storm. The guard who inspected the activation had noticed a faint smell of bacon in the laboratory.
About the Author
Kenny Wilson was born and raised in Edinburgh’s Southside. Now in his sixtieth year, he describes himself as a writer, a dreamer and lucky.