The Nesbit's Curious Incident with a Time-Machine

Preview

Author: Just to let you know, dear reader, that this is a small preview. As you’ve read in the COMING SOON! chapter, you already know that this story has not been properly put up. Until then, enjoy this!

Jane let go of the handrail once she felt the last ripples of the earthquake wash away. Her body was completely frozen up, but still she managed to look around her. On the wall beside her one out of the three paintings had fallen to the ground and tumbled down to the last step. When her legs had stopped shaking with fright, she carefully climbed down the stairs. She gazed around the hallway to see the grandfather clock had fallen onto its side, crushing the small mahogany table beside it. A glass vase used to sit on that table, purple butterfly bushes and asters composed together inside it. It was probably crushed underneath the clock, but she couldn’t see any pieces of glass from where she stood.

     Her attentions turned back to the painting. She lowered herself down and picked up the painting. It was heavy, so her thin arms strained to lift it. She hauled it up the stairs again and placed it on its rightful place on the pronounced nail of the wall.

    When it was on the wall, she fiddled around with it until it was hanging straight. It was a proud oil painting of her grandfather. A small plaque was fused to its thick frame beneath the painting, his name etched into the golden-coloured surface. George M. Nesbit.

     She stared at the name, in a complete daze. Suddenly, she heard a voice call out – her father’s. It was muffled, suggesting her bellows were coming from the basement.

    “Mattie! Jane!” called Mr. Nesbit. Suddenly he burst from the banishment door under the stairs, his head snapping from side to side in the desperate search of his daughter and wife. Clyde came stumbling after his father, his hair sticking up at an odd angle. Actually, both the males’ hair was spiked up... and both had a pair of goggles hanging around their necks...

    Jane made no attempt to answer him. She just stared at the plaque.

    It was Clyde who noticed her first. He had been turning his head around, exactly like Mr. Nesbit, and just so happened to look behind him. He spotted her dress from in-between her banisters. “Jane,” he breathed, obviously relived.

   Her father whirled around to see her. His face relaxed slightly, glad to see that his daughter was safe. In severe shock perhaps, but safe nonetheless. Then his face tightened with worry as he remembered his wife was still unaccounted for. “Mattie!” he called out again, putting a palm at the side of his mouth to make his voice louder.

  The unmistakeable rustle of skirts could be heard coming from the kitchen, and a slight moan. “Russell?” came the voice of Mrs. Nesbit. “I’m here, darling. No need to worry; I’m quite alright.”

  “Oh,” Mr. Nesbit sighed. “That’s good.”

   There was a moment’s pause. Mr. Nesbit kept his hand to his chest, looking as though he was about to have a heart attack. More rustling could be heard, as well as shrieks and groans of annoyance.

   Then;

   “Russell, I would appreciate a hand here.”

   “Oh,” he said, than started walking towards the kitchen. “Yes dear. Sorry dear.”

   As his father went off to help his wife, Clyde turned to Jane. She vaguely heard his boots crunch on the floor – so there is glass on the ground, she thought – and heard him climb up beside her. “Jane?” he whispered, tugging the sleeve of her dress. “Are you alright?”

  Finally, she tore her gave away from the plaque and into Clyde’s bright blue eyes. That was when she noticed the spiked up hair, and the goggles. She also noticed his white shirt was stained with coal dust. He looked as though he had gone through an explosion.

   The loud bang she heard, the house quaking…

  “What did you do?” she asked, her eyes burning with a sudden rage. She knew her brother and father were behind all this.

   Before he could answer, though, there was a rap on the door. The siblings turned and stared at the door, as if it had just spoken to them. “It’s probably the neighbours coming to cheek on us,” muttered Jane, walking past her brother and continuing down the steps.

  “That’s nice of them,” Clyde muttered back, a guilty look and a blush on his face. It was obvious that her suspicions were correct. He and father had done something.

  “More than likely their cheeking on us to see if we were the cause of the earthquake,” the girl snapped back, unlocking all the locks and pushing opening the door. 

   It wasn’t the neighbours.

   Instead, it was a boy.

   “Phil, mate, did you feel that earthquake –” he began, then stopped upon seeing Jane. The two shared a surprised and shocked expression on their faces. He had long, unruly blonde hair that came to his shoulders, an odd looking hat sitting on his head. It covered the top of his head, and was worn in such a way it covered his ears. The odd spot could be seen on his skin, and he wore the oddest of clothes; he was dressed in a black shirt adorned with a skull pattern, and pants that looked to be made out of comfortable material. Even his shoes were shocking. They were white, with a weird black tick at each side. A board was tucked under his armpit, and she could see it had four tiny wheels attached to it. Two at the front, and two at the back.

  Clyde walked to her side, and joined her in staring at the stranger. Soon her mother and father, bickering at each other, returned to the hallway and went to see what their children were gopping at. Then they, too, were gopping at the young man in utter disbelief.

   It took a long time before they all realized what had happened.

  “Oh dear,” said Mrs. Nesbit, turning to her husband, her mouth agape and her eyes wide. “We’re not in 1846 anymore.”