JENNY

Grandfather left Jenny seething with furry. She ran upstairs, packed a bag and went out the door with a "Mom I'll be back sometime soon."

Once outside, her grandfather was nowhere in sight. Jenny looked in every direction. As she stood there a strange feeling came over her. She felt sick. Her body moved through space like it would a tunnel. Everything was a blur. Then all was still.

Jenny was far from her home. She felt dizzy. She sat on the ground, gasping for breath. She pulled a water bottle out of her bag and took a drink.

Her grandfather walked by.

"Hey!"

He turned to her, shocked. "Jenny! How did you get here?"

"I don't know. I just followed you."

"That's impossible. No one follows me anywhere."

"Well, I just did. Care to tell me where we are and how we got here?"

"No. Go home." Grandfather disappeared.

Jenny stood, shouldered her bag and set her jaw. Everything blurred like before. Jenny, again, was dizzy when she stopped, but not as badly as before.

"I'm not going home without you."

"I lived a life with you and your family already. I'm moving on."

"I won't let you walk out on us."

"I died, remember? I am no longer part of your family. Go home."

"No."

"I have a new life to live. Go home."

"You have a life with us."

"I'm no longer an old man. I can't have a bunch of kids calling me grandpa."

"You'll get over it."

"Just go home and let me live."

He disappeared again.

"I don't think so." She followed him.

Elizabeth Williamson Copyright © 2010

FOOLS RUSH IN... OR IS IT OUT?

For Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread. It is an old phrase, but it can still be used today. Take my granddaughter Jenny for instance, she was a fool for following me. I told her that part of my life was over. I warned her. Still she rushed in.

I am a very old man, though to look at me you would never guess my age, or even come close. I have lived for hundreds of years. I have had hundreds of lifetimes. I have had hundreds of wives who have died of old age, illness, giving birth or any of a number of things. I have had more children and grandchildren than I can count. I admit I love them, but I get restless. I feel the need to move on.

My time in each place grows shorter as I continue my search. For what? I do not know. Jenny has not made things any easier. No matter where I go, she finds me. I have changed my name, traveled to the remotest places, and still she finds me. How does she do it? What does she hope to accomplish? She is only going to get herself hurt.

I have tried to start a new life, like I always have done after the death of a wife, but Jenny was there every time I tried. She has successfully scared off at least a dozen potential spouses. It has been frustrating. I have been forced to take drastic measures. I did not want to do this. I have always moved forward, never looking, or going, back, but she has left me little choice.

Time is like a river, flowing in one direction. People are content to simply ride the river, but that does not mean one can't go against the river's flow. It is not easy, but it can be done. I don't like traveling to the past, but here she can not find me. Here, she can not ruin my new life.

It has been nearly six months since I came here, and there has been no sign of Jenny. I am getting married again next week to the daughter of an Earl. It will be nice to live the posh life again. When I was married to Jenny's grandmother, I worked for an automotive company. The pay was decent and we lived well, but not like this.

"Excuse me, sir, but there is a young lady downstairs, who wishes to see you," says my fiancee's butler.

"A young lady? Did she give a name?"

"No, sir."

Who could she be? I couldn't be... could it? I descend the stairs. She comes into view. She is dressed according to the fashion of the time. It can't be. She has her back to me. I wish I could see her face. I wish I knew if it... I'm being silly. There is is no possible way it could be her. I reach the bottom of the stairs. I clear my throat. She turns.

"Hello grandfather."

No. No! NO! It's impossible! How did she get here? Never have any of my children or descendants ever shown the slightest indication of inheriting my power! I watch every generation closely to make sure they don't have it! She was just an ordinary kid like the others!

"That was clever trick, hiding in the past, but I still found you."

"H-How?" was all I could manage to say.

"I told you before. We are connected. Wherever you go, I will follow."

I feel weak. The world is slipping away from me. I sit on the stair to avoid falling. I am tired. For once in my life I feel old. "Why won't you leave me alone?"

She sighs, puts her arms around me, and kisses my forehead. "Because I am your granddaughter, and I love you."

"So? I have had thousands of grandchildren over the years. I just want to get on with my new life. I am done with my old one. I even had a funeral!"

"Are you happy?"

"What?"

"Are you happy?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"The most important kind."

Am I happy? I don't know. I exist. Some days are better than others. Some times seem brighter. But, looking back on my life, through all the many marriages, births and deaths, it all seems pale, like the world was painted in pastels. I never stayed in one place long. I was always moving on. Searching. For what? I don't know.

Am I happy? Have I ever been? "I don't know."

"Grandfather, this time we have spent in this game of tag, has been interesting. I have learned more about you than you realize. I have learned to use the power I have inherited from you. Everywhere you go you leave a trace of yourself. I know you have been looking for something. Something you can't see. Something you can't quite put your finger on."

She knows. I want the empty ache inside me to fill, to be satisfied. And yet... I feel the pull. The pull to move on. Move on to where? Where can I go that she won't follow?

"I will always be with you. No matter where. No matter when. I am a part of you. When you hide from me, you hide from yourself. Come with me. I will show you what you are missing."

Her hand hangs in the air in front of me, waiting for me to take it. Do I dare? She smiles and we are caught in the time stream. Our clothes change as we move forward.

We come to a stop in the livingroom where Jenny first learned of my immortal nature. Where I had spent many years as a grandfather clock, sleeping away the time until my wife died. Not letting go of my hand, she leads me to the kitchen where my daughter, her mother, is setting the table for dinner.

"Grandfather has something to say to you."

My daughter's left eyebrow rises as she looks at the two of us. Jenny pushes me forward. I don't know what I am supposed to say. "Kathy... I..." I turn to Jenny. "What do you want me to say? I'm older than I look? I lied to her and her mother? I'm immortal?"

"Tell her how you feel."

I look into my daughter's confused face. Her eyes are so much like her mother's, but that little twitch of the mouth that is always ready to break into a smile if she would only let it, is mine. Mine. That is what she meant. This is what I have been searching my whole life for. I have been a fool. Such a fool. All those centuries wasted, looking for what I had had from the beginning.

"I love you, my little Katty." I had called her that as a child. It was my name for her. No one else ever called her Katty. No one dared to.

Both her eyebrows rise now. "Dad?"

I nod. She hugs me. I hold her close.

"Thank you, Jenny."

For the first time in my life, I belong. I feel loved. I have connected.



Elizabeth Williamson Copyright © 2009

Clock and Turn

Clock and Turn Mary Alice Williamson © Copyright 2008

The clock winked. How could that be? It was dark, late on a crisp fall evening. I turned around to head for the door. Something seemed – different. I opened my bedroom door, turned to my right, and headed down the stairs.

As I opened the door at the bottom of the stairway, I noticed the soft lighting in the living room, coming from small gas lamps on the wall. The dim light reflected off the wallpaper near the lamps. It was a generously sized room with very old-style furniture, looking quite new. The floor had a floral rug on it, the colors muted, shadowed by the dim lighting. The doorways and windows had beautiful old-fashioned, fancy wood trim. It was easy to tell the woodwork was varnished, it looked so dark in the poorly lit room. I felt the floorboards with my bare feet by the doorway, around the edge of the rug. These were smooth, wide boards, in mint condition, like new.

Was this a dream? I pinched myself. Ouch!!

We have lived in our house for 30 years! I know my house! This was my house! Just one little thing: it did NOT look like this! I mean, it looked the same, only THIS looked like it was out of the past, 100 years ago! How could this be? I was scared.

Was anyone in the house? Was this real? Was I delusional? How could I see and feel this just as real as real can be? I went to the next room and the next! Panic set in. I couldn’t find anyone!
Everyone knows I tend to get hysterical. Well, this was it! What to do? What to do???

I did the only thing I knew to do. I went back to my room, now looking all turn-of-the-century 1900's bedroom with its flowery wallpaper, plank wood floorboards, and 'new antique' furnishings including a four-poster, quilt-covered bed. I turned down the covers and slipped into bed. The white cotton percale sheets felt so wonderful, I soon fell back to sleep. As I was dozing off, I wondered – What will all this look like in the morning?

GRANDFATHER CLOCK

The clock winked. Jenny rubbed her eyes. She had been daydreaming again. She set her book on the coffee table, sat up and stretched.

The clock winked again. Jenny stared at it. The clock’s face changed to a grinning human's face. Jenny screamed and jumped up off the couch.

The eyes of the clock widened in alarm. "Calm down child. That's no way to greet your grandfather."

"My... my grandfather? But you're a clock!"

"A grandfather clock," said the clock. The sides of the clock separated, becoming arms. The swinging pendulum shrank and disappeared under a wooden shirt. The bottom elongated and split into legs. It was a twisted mix of human and clock; almost like Pinocchio.

Jenny was shaking. "But you can't really be my grandfather. He- you died."

The old man chuckled. "No. I did not. I was hibernating." The woodenness faded, leaving an old wrinkled little man.

"I went to your funeral!"

"Was it lovely?" His white hair darkened.

"Lovely? It was a funeral!"

He shrugged. His wrinkles faded. "That doesn't mean it can't be nice. I have been to many nice funerals over the centuries, including several of my own."

Jenny stared at him. "How old are you?"

"About 975 years. The hibernation regenerates me."

"Will I get that old?" said Jenny in horrified fascination.

"I doubt it. None of my descendants have." The no longer old man stretched. "Well, if you will excuse me, I have a new life to begin, now that your grandmother is dead."

"You were waiting for grandma to die?"

"Certainly. Can't begin a new life with a weight like marriage holding me down."

Jenny was furious. "You selfish jerk!"

He grabbed her wrist before her hand could strike him. "Violence never lasts."

"What?"

"Think about it." He let go. "Goodbye."

"Wait! What about us? We're your family!"

"Not anymore. I had a funeral. Remember?"

"But Mom is your daughter! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

He shrugged. "I've had many children over the years. She's just another in a long line."

Jenny watched her grandfather walk out. She was still fuming, but she had a plan. Little did he know, her grandfather now had a traveling companion. His new life was going to be miserable, and, if she had anything to do with it, he would never have another pleasant one.



Elizabeth Williamson Copyright © 2008

The Clock Winked

by Ken Chandler

Copyright © 2008

The clock winked into non-existence with a faint pop. Mallory looked on, her mouth agape. The book she was holding fell to the floor with a thud.

“How did you…?” she stammered, pointing to the void where the clock had been then turned to gape at the stranger.

“Trade secret,” he said. Waving his hand in a flourish. “I’d tell you, but then you’d have no choice but to become one of us. I confess, there are worse things, but your social calendar goes right down the toilet.”

“I… uh…,” Mallory stammered trying to conjure up the words to express her confusion but nothing came to mind.

“I understand,” he said. He pulled his goggles away from his startlingly blue eyes, and placed them on top of his leather flyers cap, the elastic band holding them in place. “I was in your shoes, once upon a time. The mind does funny things when impossible stuff happen right before your eyes. Mine did. So if you feel a nervous breakdown coming on, don’t hold back, just go with it.”

“Bu… Su…,” Mallory attempted to form her thoughts, but came up short.

“Okay, don’t try to talk, just listen,” the man said, waving a hand in front of him as if batting her ramblings out of the air in front of him. He edged nearer to her and she flinched.

He bent lower so that they were eye to eye and said. “You are listening?”

Mallory nodded jerkily. The man smiled genially. “Good. Now listen carefully because I only have a few minutes to share some very important information with you, then I have to go away for a while.”

There was a pause, and Mallory translated this into a prompt for a sign that she was ‘getting it’. She nodded furtively.

“Okay. Now, I need you to find a safe place, a hole, or a floorboard... some place..." he glance around the room, as if by doing so, he might locate the perfect spot, "where nobody will think to look. And I need you to hide… this,” and with another flourish he held up a small round black orb.

“A… a... black… marble?” Mallory looked perplexed.

“Oh no, my dear. This is much more than a marble,” his eyes flashed with an intensity that Mallory had never seen before. She stared into those intense eyes, captivated by them. “Men have died trying to possess it, and I fear that many more will,” he hesitated. “I’ve said too much.” He waved a gloved hand in the air again, making Mallory blink and wince. “Just know this… men will die for it, and kill.”

“Me?” Mallory said straightening up with a jerk. “Now wait just a minute!” She stood, forcing him to stand, and take a step back. Mallory paced the floor stiffly. “I never asked for this…,” she gesticulated, looking for the word, “privilege.”

“I know,” the stranger said soothingly, his blue eyes looking furtively into hers, “but millions of lives depend on your cooperation.”

Mallory stopped pacing but couldn’t meet those eyes, she stared blankly at the floor instead. “Millions?” her voice was distant, hundreds of thousands of miles away. The pause that filled the space between them was a solid thing. Tangible.

Swaying slightly she reached out and found the arm of her easy chair, she stumbled forward, siting down deliberately. She met his eye, “What do I need to do?”

The Clock Winked

by Ken Chandler

Copyright © 2008

TOPIC: A Writing Prompt

Write a short story beginning with this sentence: The clock winked.