32 GB - Mikhaiah Fanfiction

3 - Her

Cebu, Philippines – March 27, 2024

I hesitated for a moment, torn between my doubts and the raw desperation in her eyes. I thought about how time traveling felt not only unreal but also impossible, she was definitely out of her mind. Despite my skepticism, I saw something in her that made it hard to turn away. With a resigned sigh, I tell her:

"Fine," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"You can drop the time-traveler act now and talk straight. I'll give you some food, and you can stay on the porch for the night. You don't have to pull stories out of your ass to get help, you know," I added.

"The thing is, I'm not telling you lies, alright? I'm telling the truth, plain and simple. And as for staying on the porch, it's uncomfortable—and frankly, it's not safe either. Maybe you could let me stay inside for a night or two? Or even a week... maybe a couple of weeks? Just until I can figure out how to get back," she pleaded, but I noticed a hidden cheekiness in her smile.

"Wow," I muttered, taken aback.

She's got some nerve, I'll give her that. Quite a lot for a dainty lady from the 1950s—one that's supposed to know her place in the kitchen and all that made up misogynistic bullcrap.

I turned to head back inside, thinking I couldn't deal with this any longer.

"If you're planning to slam that door on me again, just remember—you'll be shutting it on an elderly woman if it's really 2024. Doesn't that tug at your heartstrings just a little? Don't you have even the slightest bit of sympathy?" she called out, her voice louder now, as if trying to appeal to whatever sympathy I had left.

"Don't try to gaslight me?" I told her

"Gas what now?" She replies looking all confused

"Don't waste my time." I turn around once again.

"Wait wait... I can prove it... have a look at this..." She said, opening a book and showing me a picture she had been using as a bookmark.

"This photograph was captured on film in 1956, I was 20 years of age at the time. My name is Maria Aida Arceta, I was born on the 27th of January 1936, I am 23 years of age at this moment... or currently... or whatever this may be... Please I beg you believe me." She pleaded once more

I stared at the picture, my heart skipping a beat. There she was—dressed in the fashions of a bygone era—standing in front of what was unmistakably my house, though it looked much younger, the paint fresh and the garden neat.

"This can't be real," I whispered, my mind racing. "Where did you get this?"

"I'm telling you the truth... it's from when I lived here, back in my time... in 1959," she replied calmly, as if she hadn't just turned my world upside down.

I shook my head, struggling to process what I was seeing right in front of me. "But... this is impossible. How could you—?"

Her expression was solemn, her eyes almost pleading. "I know it's hard to believe, but I'm telling you the truth. This was my home, and somehow, I've ended up here,in 2024? in your time?"

I glanced back at the photo, then at her. The resemblance was uncanny... undeniable, but it still didn't make sense. "This has to be some kind of trick," I muttered, though my voice lacked conviction. "No one just... travels through time. That's sci-fi stuff, not real life. Did you just take your grandma's stuff and just show it around just to scam people?"

But even as I said it, doubt gnawed at me. The photograph felt too real, too personal. If this was some elaborate prank, it was a disturbingly accurate one.

"Look," she said, gently, "I don't expect you to understand it right away. I can barely wrap my head around it myself. But please, just consider the possibility."

I looked at her again, the anxiety in her eyes so genuine that it was hard not to feel a pang of sympathy. I wanted to dismiss her, to cling to reason and logic, but something about that photo—about her—made it nearly impossible to do so. Her composure finally broke. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice cracked as she spoke. "Please, you have to believe me," she pleaded, her desperation spilling over. "I don't know how I got here, and I don't know how to get back. I just... I want to go home. I don't belong here, in this time. Everything I knew, everyone I loved—they're all gone. I'm so scared, and I don't know what to do."

She sank to her knees, clutching the photograph like it was her last lifeline. "Please," she sobbed, looking up at me with tear-streaked cheeks. "I need help. I can't do this alone. I just want to go home."

My heart ached at the sight of her, so lost and afraid. Whatever the truth was, it was clear that she was in pain, and I couldn't just turn my back on her.

My mind was reeling. Every instinct told me this couldn't be real—that people don't just fall through time, that this was somehow a misunderstanding, a prank, something other than what she was claiming. But seeing her like this, so desperate and broken, it was hard not to feel a pull of compassion.

I crouched down beside her, hesitating before placing a hand on her shoulder. "Hey... I don't know what's going on here, but... you seem really lost... and well scared. I'm not sure how to help with... um... well, with time travel, but maybe we can figure something out together?"

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a fragile hope. "You'll help me?" she whispered, as if the idea was too good to believe.

I nodded, though I still felt like I was stepping into something far beyond my understanding. "I'll try. We can start by getting you inside, where it's safe and warm. And maybe we can talk more, figure out what to do next."

She gave a small, tearful nod, and I helped her to her feet. Her hand was shaking as she clutched the photograph, her eyes still darting around as if she half-expected everything to disappear.

Her grip on my arm tightened, and for the first time, she seemed to relax a little. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Thank you so much."

As we stepped inside my house, I couldn't shake the feeling that my life had just taken a turn into the unimaginable., yet seeing the relief in her eyes, even just for a moment, made me realize that, no matter how bizarre this was, I couldn't just turn her away.