79AD

The Tempi are in some sort 'Time-Travellers', but the time and place is never a personal choice. We have existed for thousands of years, undisturbed by an opposing force. We can suddenly travel to the past or future and stay there till something is triggered and we are brought back to our present to the exact point in time where we travelled. We could be drinking coffee and then be flung to the 16th century at the very same spot we were drinking coffee. We could stay there for days, weeks, months and even years. But then we are thrown back to the present where we were drinking coffee and the waiter just laid the bill for you. We experience time lengthily.

"Maya! Quickly get dressed, will you?!"

I sighed with distinctive irritation, instantly shutting my notebook. It was worn with time with scratches to show the light beige beneath the dark leather on the cover of it. It was my father’s. Which in turn, was his mother’s originally. He had passed down the notebook to me. In it were descriptions, journal entries and everything that was needed to know about the Tempi. Why it was necessary for me to have such a book was because I was a Tempi. I could travel throughout the threads of time.

It seemed to me that I travelled way more often than my father did, since I was able to add more information to the notebook about my discoveries, such as: ‘Always regulate toilet breaks in the present as you will never know where the nearest clean loo will be’. I guess my father and grandmother missed out on some of the minor yet excruciating details.

“Maya!”

I could not see my mother but I could easily imagine my mother’s stern look as she called out my name from downstairs. She was impatient to sightsee Rome despite coming here every year. Ever since my mother remarried to a banker from Florence, I would be forced to a yearly trip to Italy. To be honest, I just find it absurd to sightsee a place you’ve sight-seen a hundred times. I guess my mother just finds it more interesting and something new in the ruins.

Not that I should be really complaining. It’s healthy for me to know vigorously about history (especially Italian history if the yearly trips were to continue), so I at least know what and who to avoid with who I am. You see, as mentioned before, the Tempi do not choose their time or place, but with practice and regulations, one can induce these sudden trips. I haven’t exactly got the hang of these trips yet.

I started to travel when my father died when I was 5. I guess the trauma just triggered it - how typical. But nevertheless, the trips were only once every few months however they did start to become more frequent. When I did travel, I only seemed to stay in that time period for a day up to a month and so far 4 months has been my record - not that I am planning to break it.

“Honestly, Maya, you are holding the rest of us up.” I rolled my eyes as I could hear the wooden creaks of the stairs. My mother’s dark haired head appeared round my door with narrowed eyes at my direction.

I didn’t really look like my mother either. She had a pretty set of hazel eyes, uncommon of a person of Indian descent. I, myself, had my father’s dark brown eyes. She had a petite little nose and neither thin nor thick lips. I had a long slender nose and broad lips. Yeah, I look pretty alien-like, I know. No need to rub it in my obscene face. 

Now that the point of me looking nothing like my mother has been stated, I must also state that I do not look like the rest of my family either. Well, step/half family if you have to be specific. My mother remarried to a Mr Mariano D’Angelo, a well-off self-made man, a few days after my 9th birthday, and no soon after was my annoying little brother, Franco, born. Mariano treats me like his own daughter but it still does not mean that I should call him dad. I know he’s been around longer than my own father but he’s nothing like me. Although dead and cremated, I can relate more to my time-travelling father, than alive and loving step-father. Treat me nice or mean, my opinion will never change.