Well, time is on my side, yes it is

Time is on my side, yes it is

Cause I got the real love

The kind that you need


The cheap, press-for-infinite-annoyance bell buzzes out its summons. From underneath the Chevy, my fiancé just grunts: wonderfully articulate and persuasive as always.

"Fine," I sigh, sliding off the hood of my rusting mustang, leaving fingerprints of dirty black oil behind as I do so.

"Thanks Janey." He coughs out. The exhaust fumes that linger in the garage are now filling up our lungs, by the sound of it. The bopping toes of his steel capped boots don't miss a beat in the rhythm of 'Time Is On My Side' by The Rolling Stones. That's Frankie for you, always moving, bouncing. A bundle of energy, he is, apart from when it comes to the washing up, or dealing with new customers. Pushing through the door to reception with my hip, I wipe my greasy hands on my jeans.

"Welcome to Axel Motors, what can I do you for?" I call out with an easy smile. I'm greeted with a choking tobacco laugh.

"Why, for nothing, pretty lady, if you insist." The old man winks at me, the wrinkles in his face creasing up, lighter than the rest of his tanned skin.

"Enough of that, Mr Canner, I'm spoken for now, remember." And with a twinkle in my eye, I extend my arm fully, fluttering my lashes as I show off the stainless steel nut Frankie placed on my finger six months ago.

"My nephew still not got you a proper ring?" Mr Canner squints his eyes, chewing on his cheek in that way characteristic to the family that have taken me under their large and petrol-gleaming wings.

"Times are tough. And anyway," I raised my voice so that Frankie would hear me, "I'd rather he finally got my car fixed!"

Both men laugh, big, belly laughs that seem to shake the building. I grin at the man in front of me, loving the sound of that laugh. He looks so much like the man I'll be spending the rest of my life with, only forty years in the future. In an instant, I can see it all. A porch, cliché, I know, but I'm there with Frankie, and my hair has lost its russet tone, and although we're greying, our eyes still sparkle in the steam off of our morning coffee. My trusty mustang is still sunning in the driveway, although this is more wishful thinking, and in the yard in front of us, there are our children and their children, and they're all perfect mixes of Frankie and me, and whatever new additions to the family, and –

"You've done it again, Janey-girl, you dreamer, you." Frankie-in-the-future says. Apart from it's not him, it's his uncle, in the reception of Axel Motors, 2011. The year 2051 will just have to wait its turn. "What were you thinking of, eh?"

And I open my mouth to reply, but before I can, everything shatters into light.

The past, the present, the future, it all happens now. In this second.

Those green eyes. Happening. Gone.

The scent of petrol clinging to everything. Happening. Gone.

The feel of squeezing earth through bare toes. Happening. Gone.

The promise of children with those green eyes. Happening. Gone.

The snap of a lighter on a cigarette. Happening. Gone.

Through the silence, everything is tumbling down into rubble. My car's scarred and burning radio lies inches from my head. When did I lie down on the ground? When was I ever stood up? Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the sky. And then it is choked by smoke. And then I am choked by a word. No, not a word, a name. A name that is not just a name, but everything. A name that just cannot be nothing now. A name that grates fear on my skin more than the ruins of granite beneath my cheek.

Frankie. Happening. Gone.


Go ahead, go ahead and light up the town

And baby, do everything your heart desires

Remember, I'll always be around


September 2012

I can feel the sun searing the metal of my belt. I don't care. I carry on humming along to the tune my iPod blares in my ears. I add another wooden disposable fork to the pile, balancing it just so that it doesn't fall down. Another fork, the wood shot through with lines of darker pigment. And then just one more. This one has a knot in the shape of an eye, and I jam it upright into the pile. There. Fork mountain.

I giggle aloud, I always wanted to do that. I'm fairly sure it's been done before, but there it is. On the side of the road winding through the Blue Ridge Mountains, VA, there is a fork mountain by the tourist sign for Fork Mountain.

It's three o'clock. The sun is crawling over the towering peak at my back, and I'll have to leave now, if I want to clear at least West Virginia by nightfall.

I have a long way to go.


Why hello there procrastinating people of FanFiction! It's wonderful to see you. Oh, you want to leave a review telling me exactly what you thought of the prologue? Be my guest…

talespinner96