Your Future Past
This story and all ideas, themes and original characters are the sole ownership and copyright of J.L. Scott. Any unauthorized use is actionable in a court of law.
To borrow a phrase: Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman and all characters and settings no mine, no permission, no money, no sue...please?
Blake looked up at the house. It was beautiful, for a country setting. Blake rolled her eyes. What the hell was she doing? The only thing there was to do, she supposed, now that night was even closer than it had been hours earlier when Sully had first suggested it. She looked up at their house as Sully put the horses away and Michaela gathered their things out of the wagon while Katie sat on the porch sucking her thumb. Colleen had joined her husband, yes the girl was MARRIED!, so that left Blake alone with this happy family. Happy families tended to depress her.
"Come in, come in, I'll have dinner ready soon!" Michaela beckoned her. She saw Sully chopping some wood to bring in for the fire, she assumed. Blake sighed and followed her inside. The house was impeciable. All wood and really beautiful.
"Wow" she murmered.
"Sully built it himself" Michaela informed her. Blake nodded appreciativly.
"Wow" she repeated. The furniture was hand hewn too, but it looked very nice.
"I'll show you to a room" Michaela said, picking Katie up and starting up the stairs. Blake followed up the steep and narrow stair well and down a hall. Michaela opened a door and stepped back.
"This was Colleen's room" she said, "It has a lovely view. I'm sure you'll be comfortable." Blake nodded and gave the woman a quick smile.
"I'll call you for dinner, okay?" Blake nodded again and dropped her bag on the bed as Michaela closed the door. She glanced out the window, and the doctor had been right; there was a wonderful view. She turned around and saw a pile of papers on the dresser. She picked one up and noticed it was a newspaper. She glanced at the date. These people were really messed up. She rolled her eyes and took the shirt and skirt off, feeling much better in her cut offs and tank top. She rubbed her head where the doc had stitched up the evidence of her fall and sank onto the edge of the bed. She glanced at the door. Would they care if she listened to her cd player? How 'anti-technology' were they? She got the feeling that they really didn't know about this stuff. Whatever. She was alone in this room, what could it hurt? She pulled out the "Titan A.E." soundtrack and pulled the phones over her ears. She checked her batteries. Half. Well, that was no problem, she had two whole extra packs of batteries stuffed somewhere underneath her jeans. She layed back, her legs dangling off the edge of the bed, the sounds of Lit pounding through her head and she forgot all about everything. Well, she didn't forget. She ignored it all. She had no problems..........................
"Ms. Sully? Blake?" She sat up quickly. God, had he been knocking? She pulled off the phones and stuffed them back into her bag, just in time too because Sully must've been worried about her and opened the door.
"Oh, uh, I'm......sorry" He seemed extremely embarrassed and Blake was confused for a moment until she realized that he must think he'd caught her in her under clothes. Which of course he hadn't and Blake had no intention of letting him think he had.
"Look, I....where I come from, this isn't indecent" she said quickly, standing up, "Wearing shorts and a tank top. So don't worry about it." He didn't look the least bit relieved.
"Uh, Mike says dinner's ready" he said, still averting his eyes. Blake sighed. So much for that.
"Right. I'll be down in a second" she said. He left, closing the door again, and she woefully donned the skirt and shirt again. She trudged down the stairs and joined the family at the table. Sully carefully made sure not to look at her for a second too long, or touch her fingers with his when he passed a dish. She was wholly uncomfortable, and she knew he'd probably be feeling awfully guilty and she wished there were something she could do to relieve that feeling, because she knew how it felt, to be guilty, but she didn't know what she could say without making it worse. So she suffered through dinner and retreated to her room as soon as she had asked if Michaela needed help with the dishes and been told no. Darkness fell quickly, more quickly than Blake would've thought. She stared out the window at a landscape she could not see, but for the moon that shone. She must've stared at it for hours, letting things swirl through her mind until she could barely stand to blink. Then, she fell into bed.
But her sleep wasn't peaceful. Images rushed through her head, stealing all peace she may have had, any chance she had had of taking what sleep offered her. There were blurred images of her mother, always with a bottle to her lips and a scream in her throat, her father's funeral, she the only one in attendance, the letters from Zander that her father tossed into the fire without opening them and that finally stopped coming, then of the dark and the rain and the pain and the stone that fell..................
"NO!" She sat up, tangled in the sheets and blankets, stark panic running through her. She sucked in breath after breath but nothing helped. Her mind would not clear and she couldn't think. No she could..........she could think that it wasn't a dream, that she really, somehow, had been transported back in time, or had gone crazy and was hallucinating this all. Neither was an option she could handle.
"No! NO!" she screamed again, falling off the bed and kicking her legs until she had freed herself from the blankets and sheets. If she could have seen herself, she would have seen that her eyes were wild, like an animal cornered and wounded. She sprang up, glanced around. Yes, it was the room she had fallen asleep in, fully bedecked in 1860's style. Blake felt as if she'd gone just a little mad. If she could just get out.....get back to that gorge.........her car would be there........and she'd just turn around and go back to Chicago...........or she'd wake up in that gorge and climb out and find her car..................find her car.........all she had to do was get out........go back to that gorge.......................
She bolted for the door. She fumbled with the lock just a bit in the dark but got it open and tumbled down the stairs. She could hear people behind her, emerging from their own rooms and lurched for the front door.
"Blake? Blake, where are you going?!" she heard a woman yelled but Blake couldn't pay attention to that now. She was out the door and on the porch and then the ground. The earth was wet beneath her bare feet, it was raining. She could feel the cool beads of water on her face and running through her hair, down her back and through the cavity between her breasts.
"Blake, come back in the house!" Sully yelled behind her, from the porch, but she was still running. There was a fence, no problem, she vaulted it, farther now, through the woods, the gorge was that way. Her foot landed on a stone and it hurt but she kept going. Faster, faster! She was breathing hard, almost not breathing, but she had to keep going. All thought fled her mind..................there is no thinking in the bowels of panic, when your world and everything you held as a certainty was torn asunder, when you are reduced to instinct and adrenaline.
She tore through the woods as the rain continued to pour down, lightning cracking above to illuminate the trees and shrubbery that she paid no mind to, the thunder only startling her further, making her run faster, branches whipping at her face and arms, causing little cuts that bled and obscured her vision and made her taste salty blood.
"Blake! Blake where are you?!" a voice called and she could hear him now, running right behind her. He was so close! She had to get to the gorge, that's what she had to do.......that gorge and fall into it and she'd hit her head again and wake up in the right place, or else she'd die. That would be okay too. Anything to make this end! Just make it end! Make it end! Make it end!
She tripped over a branch and fell to the ground. She did hit her head, against the trunk of a tree she screamed. She didn't bother getting up, the leaves were cold and the nettles were poking her skin. Her mother was screaming at her, her breath smelled like alcohol, her teacher was yelling at her and ripped her paper in two, Dad threw Zander's bag out the window and the glass shattered over the couch. Blake started shaking and curled her legs up into her stomach. The rain continued to pour down over her in sheets, plastering her clothes to her skin and soaking the ground beneath her.
"No, no, no, no" she murmured over and over and over until it became a chant, one that she could not give up. How long did she lie there? She didn't know, but it felt like hours. She felt her muscles tense up and freeze as the rain rolled of her skin and the wind blew through the trees.
"Blake?" he was speaking over the rain, but it sounded like he was whispering. He was bent over her, trying to protect her from the rain with the blanket he had thrown over his shoulders. She turned her head, just an inch and looked up into his face. Blue eyes shown down at her, regret and worry tinging them, strength and kindness highlighting them. She was breathing raggedly, hyperventilating really, shivering in the rain, voice fading away and finally, just a little reassurance entering her heart.
"Oh, Blake" he said and she could feel his arms scooping under her legs and under her neck. She couldn't put her arms around his neck, she couldn't move them away from their sheltered place against her chest. But she could feel his warmth seeping into her from his chest, warming her up. She was safe. The screaming stopped. No one was yelling at her. She shut her eyes, at long last, and went to sleep.
This story and all ideas, themes and original characters are the sole ownership and copyright of J.L. Scott. Any unauthorized use is actionable in a court of law.
To borrow a phrase: Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman and all characters and settings no mine, no permission, no money, no sue...please?
Blake looked up at the house. It was beautiful, for a country setting. Blake rolled her eyes. What the hell was she doing? The only thing there was to do, she supposed, now that night was even closer than it had been hours earlier when Sully had first suggested it. She looked up at their house as Sully put the horses away and Michaela gathered their things out of the wagon while Katie sat on the porch sucking her thumb. Colleen had joined her husband, yes the girl was MARRIED!, so that left Blake alone with this happy family. Happy families tended to depress her.
"Come in, come in, I'll have dinner ready soon!" Michaela beckoned her. She saw Sully chopping some wood to bring in for the fire, she assumed. Blake sighed and followed her inside. The house was impeciable. All wood and really beautiful.
"Wow" she murmered.
"Sully built it himself" Michaela informed her. Blake nodded appreciativly.
"Wow" she repeated. The furniture was hand hewn too, but it looked very nice.
"I'll show you to a room" Michaela said, picking Katie up and starting up the stairs. Blake followed up the steep and narrow stair well and down a hall. Michaela opened a door and stepped back.
"This was Colleen's room" she said, "It has a lovely view. I'm sure you'll be comfortable." Blake nodded and gave the woman a quick smile.
"I'll call you for dinner, okay?" Blake nodded again and dropped her bag on the bed as Michaela closed the door. She glanced out the window, and the doctor had been right; there was a wonderful view. She turned around and saw a pile of papers on the dresser. She picked one up and noticed it was a newspaper. She glanced at the date. These people were really messed up. She rolled her eyes and took the shirt and skirt off, feeling much better in her cut offs and tank top. She rubbed her head where the doc had stitched up the evidence of her fall and sank onto the edge of the bed. She glanced at the door. Would they care if she listened to her cd player? How 'anti-technology' were they? She got the feeling that they really didn't know about this stuff. Whatever. She was alone in this room, what could it hurt? She pulled out the "Titan A.E." soundtrack and pulled the phones over her ears. She checked her batteries. Half. Well, that was no problem, she had two whole extra packs of batteries stuffed somewhere underneath her jeans. She layed back, her legs dangling off the edge of the bed, the sounds of Lit pounding through her head and she forgot all about everything. Well, she didn't forget. She ignored it all. She had no problems..........................
"Ms. Sully? Blake?" She sat up quickly. God, had he been knocking? She pulled off the phones and stuffed them back into her bag, just in time too because Sully must've been worried about her and opened the door.
"Oh, uh, I'm......sorry" He seemed extremely embarrassed and Blake was confused for a moment until she realized that he must think he'd caught her in her under clothes. Which of course he hadn't and Blake had no intention of letting him think he had.
"Look, I....where I come from, this isn't indecent" she said quickly, standing up, "Wearing shorts and a tank top. So don't worry about it." He didn't look the least bit relieved.
"Uh, Mike says dinner's ready" he said, still averting his eyes. Blake sighed. So much for that.
"Right. I'll be down in a second" she said. He left, closing the door again, and she woefully donned the skirt and shirt again. She trudged down the stairs and joined the family at the table. Sully carefully made sure not to look at her for a second too long, or touch her fingers with his when he passed a dish. She was wholly uncomfortable, and she knew he'd probably be feeling awfully guilty and she wished there were something she could do to relieve that feeling, because she knew how it felt, to be guilty, but she didn't know what she could say without making it worse. So she suffered through dinner and retreated to her room as soon as she had asked if Michaela needed help with the dishes and been told no. Darkness fell quickly, more quickly than Blake would've thought. She stared out the window at a landscape she could not see, but for the moon that shone. She must've stared at it for hours, letting things swirl through her mind until she could barely stand to blink. Then, she fell into bed.
But her sleep wasn't peaceful. Images rushed through her head, stealing all peace she may have had, any chance she had had of taking what sleep offered her. There were blurred images of her mother, always with a bottle to her lips and a scream in her throat, her father's funeral, she the only one in attendance, the letters from Zander that her father tossed into the fire without opening them and that finally stopped coming, then of the dark and the rain and the pain and the stone that fell..................
"NO!" She sat up, tangled in the sheets and blankets, stark panic running through her. She sucked in breath after breath but nothing helped. Her mind would not clear and she couldn't think. No she could..........she could think that it wasn't a dream, that she really, somehow, had been transported back in time, or had gone crazy and was hallucinating this all. Neither was an option she could handle.
"No! NO!" she screamed again, falling off the bed and kicking her legs until she had freed herself from the blankets and sheets. If she could have seen herself, she would have seen that her eyes were wild, like an animal cornered and wounded. She sprang up, glanced around. Yes, it was the room she had fallen asleep in, fully bedecked in 1860's style. Blake felt as if she'd gone just a little mad. If she could just get out.....get back to that gorge.........her car would be there........and she'd just turn around and go back to Chicago...........or she'd wake up in that gorge and climb out and find her car..................find her car.........all she had to do was get out........go back to that gorge.......................
She bolted for the door. She fumbled with the lock just a bit in the dark but got it open and tumbled down the stairs. She could hear people behind her, emerging from their own rooms and lurched for the front door.
"Blake? Blake, where are you going?!" she heard a woman yelled but Blake couldn't pay attention to that now. She was out the door and on the porch and then the ground. The earth was wet beneath her bare feet, it was raining. She could feel the cool beads of water on her face and running through her hair, down her back and through the cavity between her breasts.
"Blake, come back in the house!" Sully yelled behind her, from the porch, but she was still running. There was a fence, no problem, she vaulted it, farther now, through the woods, the gorge was that way. Her foot landed on a stone and it hurt but she kept going. Faster, faster! She was breathing hard, almost not breathing, but she had to keep going. All thought fled her mind..................there is no thinking in the bowels of panic, when your world and everything you held as a certainty was torn asunder, when you are reduced to instinct and adrenaline.
She tore through the woods as the rain continued to pour down, lightning cracking above to illuminate the trees and shrubbery that she paid no mind to, the thunder only startling her further, making her run faster, branches whipping at her face and arms, causing little cuts that bled and obscured her vision and made her taste salty blood.
"Blake! Blake where are you?!" a voice called and she could hear him now, running right behind her. He was so close! She had to get to the gorge, that's what she had to do.......that gorge and fall into it and she'd hit her head again and wake up in the right place, or else she'd die. That would be okay too. Anything to make this end! Just make it end! Make it end! Make it end!
She tripped over a branch and fell to the ground. She did hit her head, against the trunk of a tree she screamed. She didn't bother getting up, the leaves were cold and the nettles were poking her skin. Her mother was screaming at her, her breath smelled like alcohol, her teacher was yelling at her and ripped her paper in two, Dad threw Zander's bag out the window and the glass shattered over the couch. Blake started shaking and curled her legs up into her stomach. The rain continued to pour down over her in sheets, plastering her clothes to her skin and soaking the ground beneath her.
"No, no, no, no" she murmured over and over and over until it became a chant, one that she could not give up. How long did she lie there? She didn't know, but it felt like hours. She felt her muscles tense up and freeze as the rain rolled of her skin and the wind blew through the trees.
"Blake?" he was speaking over the rain, but it sounded like he was whispering. He was bent over her, trying to protect her from the rain with the blanket he had thrown over his shoulders. She turned her head, just an inch and looked up into his face. Blue eyes shown down at her, regret and worry tinging them, strength and kindness highlighting them. She was breathing raggedly, hyperventilating really, shivering in the rain, voice fading away and finally, just a little reassurance entering her heart.
"Oh, Blake" he said and she could feel his arms scooping under her legs and under her neck. She couldn't put her arms around his neck, she couldn't move them away from their sheltered place against her chest. But she could feel his warmth seeping into her from his chest, warming her up. She was safe. The screaming stopped. No one was yelling at her. She shut her eyes, at long last, and went to sleep.