The picture is from Claire at morquefile.
A Twisted World
Traci Kenworth
It’d been my dream forever. To view the Eiffel Tower in person. Now, here I was among the busy crowds of romantic souls and tourists. Except I wasn’t really a part of it. I’d been zoomed in from the catalog room to a period of time when the tower still stood tall not twisted and broken like in the present. It was a miracle really that I could get a pass to do so. They didn’t like us taking trips back to before times.
Before the war. Before mankind had been reduced to a handful. Before life became such a struggle to survive and there was little tolerance for those who tried to escape reality. Still, Ferguson had let me come. I envied those around me for their carefree attitude, the pictures they could snap of this moment that would one day serve as a jumping point for my travels. With a sigh at the fading sunset, I tapped the little button at my waist. Instantly, the background ceased and I was back in the basement of what had become home for the survivors.
“Back so soon?” Ferguson greeted me. Behind him were two guards.
I swallowed. “But you gave me permission—”
“Did I? To live out your dreams instead of taking part in helping us exist in our day to day lives?” He placed a hand on my arm. “Do you value others so little that you would rather hibernate in the past than take up your duty here?”
“But I do take my job seriously. It’s only in my spare time that I—”
“Visit what? An empty memory?”
“No. My birth.”
He stared at me. “You were born the day the war started?”
“Yes.”
“And you wish to review this day, why?” Inacea said stepping out from the shadows.
“So that I might find a snippet, a clue as to why it happened. A way to save us all.”
“Interesting,” she said. “And do you think you’ve discovered one?”
“Yes. If we could all travel back to the time. Insinuate ourselves in the right positions—”
Ferguson sniffed. “As if it could be done.”
I fisted my hands. “But it could be. That’s the point.”
Inacea came forward, her nightstick returned to its grip. “Tell me more,” she said.
“Surely you don’t believe the little escapist,” Ferguson snarled.
“I believe she may have the answer to save us all. I’ve been watching her. She always goes back to the same place, the same moment, just before the bombs drop. If she can isolate the right places for us, we can make a stand.”
“I can’t believe you’re not seeing the danger in all of this. You can’t change the past.”
“Is that the traitor in you talking?” Inacea nodded. “Oh, yes, I know Ferguson. You’re the danger to us all.” She gestured to the guards when Ferguson would have run. When he was safe in their clutches, she turned to me. “Now, let’s discuss this plan of yours.”
Where Genres Collide Traci Kenworth YA Author 