FREE SHORT STORY - Journey Through Time
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creative writing,
literary fiction,
short story
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Journey Through Time
Karen Lofgren
One moment, you’re in ancient Egypt, standing on the banks of the Nile. You can see why this beautiful river was so long held sacred by these people. Off in the distance, the pyramids of Giza stand tall, no longer corroded by time. The dryness and the heat is almost suffocating, the only moisture coming off the river.
A little way down the shore, you see a body, a girl. Your natural human empathy kicks in and you try to go to her side, but you’re rooted to the spot. You are merely an observer to times long gone by, and cannot influence them, no matter how badly you may want to. You see a priest stumble down the caked mud of the bank to the body. A nameless girl, slain in some horrible way, is treated like a queen because the river chose to accept her in death.
Egypt declines and Rome rises, its victories over Carthage to the south heralding its triumph. In just a short while, the Roman Empire goes from city state to a mighty empire that dominates land on three continents. Roads are built. More wars are fought. New religions arise and take the place of those of old. And in many ways the world will never be the same again. Every empire that comes afterward does its best to imitate Rome.
The image fades, and you’re no longer in Rome, untouched by the ages and at the height of its glory. You see the Andes mountains reach up and scrape the very sky. You look upon Machu Pichu in all its splendor, and see the Inca farm in the terraced fields of the mountainsides. The engineering these people mastered so many centuries ago is absolutely incredible. You then watch helplessly as the Spanish come and burn this society to the ground. But they never find Machu Pichu. It will remain forever as a monument to those who built it.
Back in Europe, you bear witness to a light piercing through the Dark Ages. The Renaissance has begun. Breathtaking art, social reform, a somewhat stronger emphasis on science... You witness its birth. It reminds you that just about anything can change in an instant.
Cheers make your ears ring as the French Revolution begins. It is simultaneously terrifying and awe-inspiring. The scent of gunpowder fills your nostrils and panicked shouts permeate the air, while at the same time cries of freedom and hope for a better tomorrow ring. You see hope fade into despair as the Reign of Terror settles in, and you flinch away as the guillotine falls, severing a world in its swipe.
The modern age has crept up on you. Whispers of war blow across Europe. You see young men eagerly enlist as soldiers, only to return years later broken and suffering. You see death, shell explosions, twisted trees, land you can’t believe was once green; and less dramatic but no less painful things, like infection and disease. You see soldiers in the trenches huddled together in the long hours between active fighting, their lives becoming more and more unbearable and jaded as the years pass by.
But it is not only in the trenches of Europe where World War I occurs. Oh no, it is everywhere. From the steamy jungles of Africa where German, British, and Belgian colonies are held, to the eastern front where weary and scared Russian soldiers march, wondering what is to become of their country, to the Ottomans, struggling against Arab uprisings propped up by the British and French.
World War I is terrible, forever leaving a scar on humanity’s collective memory and a swath of destruction and death in its wake.
But in spite of the world’s efforts to prevent it, war happens again. Human nature to obey authority figures and a fear of communism doom Germany to its fate, and you watch them go from boycotting Jewish businesses to a calculated extermination that will forever be remembered as one of the darkest blights on human history.
Finally, you come to Hiroshima, moments before the bomb goes off. There is nothing for a moment, all is still, and then you see a white light that consumes and blinds you. Tears you don’t remember crying stream down your face.
You come back from World War II and see that the exhibits have ended. That was the last one for you to see. You thank the docent who escorted you through different worlds and different lives, a sweet old lady volunteering her time, and you leave the museum.
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