The Wrong Time

The Wrong Time

Scotland, 2015. Galen strolled along at a modest pace. Strange, considering he had just stolen eight hundred pounds worth of jewelry, off of the women wearing it, no less. That should cover me for a few days, he thought to himself. He noticed a finely dressed couple walking out of a large house, on their way to some posh event no doubt. As Galen passed them on the sidewalk, he heard them mutter something like 'should control their children', probably addressing his rebellious attire consisting mainly of the colors black, black, and very dark grey. Annoyed at the sight of the privileged couple, the so called 'one-percenters,' Galen changed his step to a much more boastful swagger. He almost wanted to shout "you're next!" but that would most likely give him away for the fifteen year-old thief that he was. 'Live to get into more trouble', he'd always said. Galen crossed the street, turned left at the intersection, and disappeared into the dark night.

***

Scotland, 1885. Oliver rolled his eyes at the tutor, going on and on about arithmetic and division and twaddle. Just a few more excruciating minutes until his horseback riding lesson. His horse, Abbacus, was a simple brown steed. Oliver's mother had been skeptical about getting him his own horse, citing a cousin's numerous horse-induced brain injuries . But Oliver knew he was destined for greater things than taking over his father's law firm. His fifteenth birthday was approaching and he couldn't wait to prove his worth. His father had hinted at a surprise for his special day and Oliver kept running through possibilities in his head: spurs maybe or a new book? The tutor rapped his knuckles on Oliver's head, abruptly ending his daydream.

"Daydreaming is for the unproductive, young man, there are times tables to be learned." Oliver rolled his eyes, earning himself two more hits. To avoid further trouble he began reciting his multiplication tables. Boring! He'd rather die than go through this monotony every day of his life. A few operations later, the tutor began:

"Very good, let's begin your..."

"Master Cunningham, sir, It is time for your riding lesson," Oliver's butler, Wendell, cut in.

"Oh, thank the Lord, I was beginning to despair," he replied.

***

Galen entered a shadier area of Glasgow. He cruised along, seeing more and more dilapidated buildings and shattered windows. Now where was it...aha! He approached a quaint little antique shop, surrounded by its usual fence, and walked in to see the usual array of forgotten knickknacks and broken trinkets.

"'Sup Herman," Galen said, strolling in, addressing a short elderly man with considerable muscle mass.

"Not a whole lot," Herman replied with his usual toothless smile.

"For the last time Herman, it's a rhetorical question, you don't need to answer it." Galen said, rolling his eyes. "Got at least a few grams of gold for ya."

Galen unloaded the stolen jewelry on the dirty counter and the shop owner whistled his appreciation. As Herman started his appraisal of the merchandise , Galen noticed something new on the shelf behind the old man from the corner of his eye.

***

Oliver followed his butler through the halls of his luxurious family manor. When he passed his father's study he couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. Perhaps father has gotten me those new spurs. I suppose a peek couldn't hurt.

"You go ahead Wendell," he called across the hall. "I'll just be a moment"

"Yes young master," the butler replied.

Oliver waited a moment for him to walk out of earshot and slowly opened the door and quietly stepped inside. The study was deserted. He noticed something peculiar on his father's desk. Strange, his father hadn't mentioned anything about this at the dinner table. How odd.

***

"What's that?" Galen asked, pointing to a shining sphere on the shelf.

"Not sure," Herman replied "Some guy left it here yesterday without a word. Maybe it has magical properties."

"Weird," Galen said as he walked around the counter to get a better look. "Maybe it's worth something."

Galen picked up the cool, glass ball from the shelf and for a moment, he thought it was simply reflecting his own image. His jaw dropped when he realized he was staring at another young boy, with similar features than his but wearing old-fashioned clothes. The image disappeared and Galen put the object back on the shelf quickly, his pulse racing and a weird sensation in the pit of his stomach. Not magic, more like a curse. Galen pocketed his money and left the antique shop. As he walked quietly through the alleyways, he passed three men in suits. The weird feeling in his stomach returned. Bit overdressed for the area fellas. He kept his head down and tried to skirt them, but suddenly the two bigger ones grabbed him and shoved him against a wall. The small one pulled out a gun.

"You stole from the wrong family son," he said, and put the barrel to Galen's temple.

***

Oliver rode along the dirt path, still wondering about the sphere on his father's desk It had been so shiny and out-of-place, and seemed to attract him like a moth to flame. Odder still was that the reflection seemed to be not of his own, but of a skinny boy, dressed in black garments. Perhaps it was a gift. After all, Oliver's father was constantly getting gifts from his wealthier clientele and liked to bring them up to try and entice Oliver into taking over the family business. It had not worked so far, but had he mentioned the sphere, Oliver would have been more convinced than usual. It seemed full of dark magic and Oliver had felt both excited and terrified to hold it.

Out of nowhere, a nearby tree branch snapped, startling his horse and throwing Oliver off. HIs back hit the hard dirt, knocking the breath out of his chest and causing his vision to go dark for a split second. He had no time to get up when he saw a hoof coming down on his head. His vision went dark again as his head spun. Suddenly he was upright. Suddenly the texture on his back was stone, not dirt. And suddenly there were two very large men gripping his arms, with a third one aiming a pistol at his head.

***

Galen had closed his eyes, figuring it would make dying easier. Then he heard a strange noise, like the braying of a donkey, and opened his eyes to see a gigantic hoof about to crush his head.

***

Meanwhile, in both the antique store and the study, the sphere had vanished.