Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Rowan awoke face down in the mud, her long copper hair dangling in it, but thankfully it had been dry mud and not squelching mud like that of a bog. She stumbled to her feet and looked around in an extremely disoriented state. A horse, that was headed straight for her, had caught the attention of her peripheral vision but she made no movement to avoid it as her limbs wouldn't do as they were told in her frenzied mind. Suddenly, she had been pulled onto the floor by an unexpected saviour. "Woah there love! You ought to watch where ya going!" The man laid on top of her said, with a heavy old fashioned Birmingham accent. He helped Rowan up and looked her up and down, the obvious difference in attire capturing his attention. She had done the exact same thing.
Her saviour had worn a fitted blue tweed suit, a three-piece ensemble she could admire along with a tilted flat cap that had almost fallen off when he jumped on her to move her from harm's way. He seemed to stare a little longer at her legs that were shrouded in black skinny jeans, and a grey baggy crew neck tucked into them. The leather belt had accentuated her waist and the soft green woollen cardigan was no shelter from the extreme cold autumnal weather. After a moment of evaluating each other, this man turned to the man on his horse who had stopped and stared down at the both of them. "I've warned you before! No galloping down 'ere, it's dangerous!" The man on the horse nodded with a nervous swallow following. He began to trot off and turned back to look at them before disappearing from view through the thick smog.
"You're new 'round here... I'm John, John Shelby." He smiled, and I placed my hand out to return the handshake he had insinuated with the hand he had first placed out. He took my hand and kissed the knuckle of it, I blushed and tore my hand away in a fluster. He stuck a cocktail stick in his mouth from nowhere and stared her up and down once again, her strange clothes were as wonderful as they were tight. "Ro- Rowan Loch- Lochwood..." she had managed to stammer out in a pesky attempt at sharing her identity, hoping he would know the Lochwood house and direct her on her way. He said nothing, but a smile spoke a thousand words. It was one holding all sorts of mischief and Rowan recognised a certain intention behind his eyes. She wasn't sure how she felt about it.
He began to walk away, with a wave of his hand behind him to Rowan as his last goodbye. She stood staring at his back for a moment before he too disappeared through the smog. She muttered to herself in embarrassment before going back over the conversation as all of it seemed a complete blur. The shock of what had happened had overtaken her senses and only now had she registered the name.
"John?... Shelby?" She questioned and like a madwoman, she lectured herself at her own stupidity at the idea it was the John Shelby. A quick glance around had to lead her towards a pile of newspapers, she ran to the pile and grabbed one, the purpose was solely for the date that was at the top of the page.
'October 14th 1920.'
"Impossible." She whispered to herself in a complete state of denial, she dropped the newspaper and ran down Watery Lane in an attempt to get her mind working logically as Malachi would, and not allow her imagination to take her places she wasn't. She spotted a park, engulfed by blooming autumn plants and flowers, as well as a blanket of orange and brown leaves covering the floor. Perching herself on a bench, she prayed that what she believed in the back of her mind and what all the evidence was pointing towards: wasn't true.
"Ah! I'm unconscious! I hit my head in the museum. Maybe I'm in an everlasting coma... a lucid dream?" She stared at her fingers and counted all ten in their normal state. She pinched her arms until they bruised from the incessant assault on the skin. She seethed at the pain but convinced herself it was the only way to wake up.
"This can't be real." She began to clench her fists and her long nails duh into her palms, forming small crescent-shaped cuts that were deeper than before. The scars that had been there before had faded slightly, but she knew that now they would be coming back.
She looked up and her eyes watered slightly, knowing now that it was true and there was no point hurting herself.
