The Time Travel Agency
“So, where would you like to go?” I asked for the twentieth time that morning.
“Hong Kong, 1963, please,” the woman said, sitting on the very edge of her seat.
“Ok,” I barely managed to stifle a yawn, “let’s see what’s available.”
“Right. Hong Kong.” I scrolled through the computer spread sheet in front of me. “I’ve got 1964 or 1965, but 1963 is sold out for the next fourteen months.”
“Oh,” the woman said.
“Is there a specific reason you’d like to go back there?” I asked her.
“My mum was born there in that year, so I’d really like to see what it’s like.”
“But babe?” the guy sitting next to her piped up. “I thought we’d talked about going to the future.”
Oh Christ, here we go.
“Yes, she said in a clipped voice, “we did talk about it and then decided we’d go to the past.”
I’ve seen this argument a thousand times before.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “You decided we’d go to the past.”
She crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip.
I don’t think I’ve seen anyone genuinely pout before.
“Babe,” he started, but she shrugged him off.
“Why don’t I let you two sort this one out on your own? I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I got up and walked into the staff kitchen. I was filling the kettle when Rupert walked in.
“Put some water in there for me too, will you?”
“Sure.” I flicked the switch and reached for two mugs from the cupboard in front of me. “Tea of coffee?”
“Coffee please, mate. What you doing in here?” Rupert asked.
“Oh, the usual,” I measured two heaped spoonfuls of instant coffee into the two mugs. “Male-female-future-past scenario.”
Rupert rolled his eyes. “Cripes,” he said. “Like we haven’t seen that one before.”
“You?” I asked.
“I’ve lost two people in 2140. They weren’t at the coach at departure time. I’m trying to lay low and locate them before the boss finds out.”
“Shit!” I felt the giggle start in my belly and couldn’t stop it erupting. Rupert soon joined in.
Mr Harris strode into the kitchen. “What in heaven’s name is going on in here?”
“Nothing, Mr Harris,” and we both shot out of the kitchen back to our desks.
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Flash Fiction is short enough to read whilst you're waiting for the kettle to boil. It's fairly quick to write too, but with it being so short, every word has to count.
On 4th May 2012 I decided to embark on a project: to write a piece of Flash Fiction every day. I'm hoping this will keep the creative juices flowing and ultimately help me hone my craft. Every Friday I'll be posting 'the best of the week' onto my blog for you to read. If you have anything to say (good or 'constructive'!), I'm open to comments.
Thanks, as always, for reading.
