Time
By Justin Oberg
It had been almost five days now. Barreling, headlong, through the fabric of space-time, the rattling of the steel and brass death machine I had built annoyed the Hell out of me. I knew that I could not go back and save her. I knew that it would cause a paradox and I would be doomed to go back and watch her die in one of a million different ways each time. So, in my haste and without thought I build this fabulous machine, a wonderment of all technology and science, I thrust myself into the future to look for any other way of saving her. I shook off the memory of my folly. The light blue grey ball that was the Sun as it sped through the sky of night and day, and repeated the process in less time than it took for me to blink, was causing me to become extremely nauseated. I looked away sharply and found myself staring at the broken brass lever that, at one point had propelled me into this Purgatory I was in now, sat still on the seat next to me, a testament to my unwavering love and commitment to her. As I stared at the brass I laughed at the absurdity of it all. I laughed for what seemed like minutes, but was likely weeks in the world around me. I watched the Sun begin to glow red hot and felt my head become light, I knew it was time; this long without any food or water was too much on my now frail body. I rested my head next to the brass lever on the old brown leather seat, and allowed the darkness to overcome me.
