The Passing of Time

He already knew he was in trouble when he escaped his chores to take a quick dip in the nearby stream that bordered his village. He was certain of this though as soon as he saw the middle-aged woman huffing and puffing down the lane, her face flushed as she ranted to herself about naughty boys and flogging would be too good.

It was clear by her body language that it wasn’t the heat of the day that made her look so flushed but the temper rising inside as she searched for the boy.

“Where’s he gotten to this time! I swear when I find him, I’ll-”

“Who you after Mavis?” The old man called out as he approached the footbridge not far from where Mavis stood.

Mavis turned around. “Oh George, that boy of mine, he’s run off again! He WAS supposed to be turning the ground readying it for next week’s planting, but I come out to call him in for supper and there I see them Oxes just standing there doing nothing in the middle of the field!” Mavis wiped her hand in her apron, twisting it as she talked. “I swear, when I get my hands on him, I’ll-”

“Now, now, Mavis, Calm down.” George said in a soothing voice. “He can’t have gone far. This is the only road into the village from your farm, and I know he didn’t pass me. How bout we look for him together?” He crossed the little footbridge joining Mavis on the other side. “Besides, I’ve been sent here to ask you for the recipe of that pie you made the other week. The wife won’t let up about that mystery ingredient. She reckons she’s figured out everything else, but she just can’t figure what gave it that little kick!”

Mavis giggled as the two walked further down the lane, I made two the other week, the turkey and cranberry pie and the pumpkin pie with cinnamon. Which one was she asking after?”

“I think it was....” George’s voice faded the further they walked along the path.

Once all was silent, the boy peeked his eyes above the level of the reeds that he had hidden behind and slowly swam under the pedestrian bridge. He wasn’t far from the family farm, but after hearing his mother go off on a tangent about what she was going to do didn’t make him keen to get home anytime soon.

Perhaps if he just waited till nightfall, his mother might calm down enough to let go of the idea of belting him. One way or another, despite all the threats, he’s always managed to avoid a belting in the past, but he was never sure if she would ever carry through those threats.

But he couldn’t hide under this bridge forever. As hot as the day is, it would eventually cool, and his sodden clothes would get cold long before it got dark. Perhaps if he floated a little downstream, away from the farm to a secluded area, perhaps then it would be safe for him to climb onto the shore and slowly head for home when he deemed it safe.

There was a current nearer the centre of the stream where it was deeper. After one final look toward the distance to ensure that George and his mother weren’t returning yet, the boy made his way to the middle where he could float along with the current as it continued its path downstream to wherever he went. He had never swum past the footbridge before as he never felt the need to. The reeds were his favourite secret hangout on a hot day. Somewhere he could cool off from his chores and still be invisible to anyone walking along the path just a stone’s throw away.

As the stream went on, the boy could see houses closer to the bank. Big, fancy houses with big windows. As the day grew darker, a light on in one house showed people partying inside. Loud music could be heard playing inside but he was unsure as to who was playing it as he could see no band.

The house itself wasn’t made of all wood like the one on his farm, but of what looked like white stones, big, flat, square white stones with large polished wooden doors, big enough to ride a horse through.

The current in the stream began to speed up and for a period, dragged him under the surface of the water so that for a while, he struggled to get a breath, but after some time, manage to get some footing and was able to slow down his progression a little.

Looking toward the bank, he could see much bigger buildings than before. In their height, the windows appeared much smaller than even the windows in his farmhouse. He felt dwarfed by these buildings, so he relaxed himself, now lying on his back and letting the current move him further on to somewhere hopefully less daunting.

As night approached, his clothes felt tight on him, so he began to remove them one by one, first his shoes, then his shirt, then his trousers, leaving only his underwear on as they seemed to be the only thing to not tighten around him.

The darkness around him made it impossible to see anything so once again, he gave into the fluidness of the stream. The constant gentle motion lulled him into a deep sleep, one that he didn’t wake from until a grey light formed on the edges of the sky hinting the start of a new day. How long had he slept? Minutes? Hours? What had woken him? No movement!

The boy, now a man stood up on the beach where the stream had left him. Towering above him were the tallest buildings he had ever seen. Buildings that reached into the sky and beyond. These buildings were all black, as if burnt by some fire, but no... as he reached out to the nearest one, he felt they were cool to touch and felt like metal. Nothing here made of wood and there were no trees anywhere as far as he could see.

What had happened in the time that he’d spent in the stream. Why it was only yesterday that he was hiding from his mother just to avoid a possible belting, but now... where was this place? How would he get back home?

Further along the beach, he could see what looked like a giant bubble, and in that bubble was a seat. As he approached it, one side of the bubble opened. He climbed inside and sat on the seat and as he did, handles, seemingly out of the bubble’s side, appeared in front of him.

Instinctively, he grabbed hold of the handles, and as he did, something that felt like leather, but softer, came down from the top of the bubble and wrapped around his head like a hat, covering his hair, ears, and connecting beneath his chin. In its odd way, it felt comforting, protective although he didn’t understand why.

Moving the handles around to see what they’d do, the bubble closed and up it soared, up off the ground, climbing higher and higher, very quickly passing the height of these very tall buildings and into the space beyond.

No matter what he did with that bubble, he could never find his past. He could only look to see where this bubble would take him into the future.

Copyright: Carol Nemes 2:41am 4th February 2022

I haven't decided yet what I will do with this piece. Should I leave as is, turn it into a more detail short story or something bigger? All comments/critiques welcome.