Thanks and a Plot

Hi all. I hope all is well with your lives. I want to say thanks to all of you for reading.

If this is your first time here, I hope you enjoy your stay and that you will return. I try to update every week day (Mon-Fri) so feel free to check back in.

If you are returning, I am glad to know that you have enjoyed yourself here enough to return. Thanks for your continued interest.

Today, I am deviating from my usual "stories" to bring you a plot. At work today, I was trying write 9/18/15 I wrote down 9/18/25. So, after discussing the random ten year jump with my co-worker, we came up with this plot:

     A person is gifted through "lightning strikey" magical means the ability to travel through time. He/She does this by writing down the date that they wish to travel to. (Maybe they should find a book that lets them do this? anyway...) The catch- he/she can only travel to a particular date once. They cannot write down, for example, 5/4/1945 then 6/15/1999 and then 5/4/1945 again. There is the ability to travel to the "future" (defined as any date before the ability was discovered or any date beyond that that the character has not lived through), but because the future is not written, it carries great risk. Also, the more he/she travels to the past, the harder it will be for them to return to "their time" without someone noticing gaps in their memory (because they can only return to the "current date" once).

Sound fun?

Dead Men Don't Press Buttons

"No, you weren't supposed to press that button! You weren't supposed to even be near it!" *frantically presses other buttons* "What on God's green earth possessed you to press it?!"

"It was an accident!"...................... "What happens now?"

"Well, for starters, I get to call the President and tell him that this was all just a false alarm. Then I get to silently and respectfully listen to him chew me out for being reckless. Then I'll do the same while he threatens to shoot me or have me incarcerated if it happens again. Heaven forbid I tell him it was you who pressed the button and not me."

"Why can't you tell him it was me?"

"Because, oh dearest friend, you're supposed to be dead. Dead men don't press buttons that start nuclear wars."

"Oh."

The Abondoned Clock

She stared at the remains of the old clock. It had once been a grand and beautiful thing. It's windows had been stained glass and iron.  The building was so tall and the face was so large you could see it clearly from any where in the city. At one time, it chimed out the hours in pleasing rings and peals. Now it sat silent. many of the windows had cracked and broken during the bombings. One of the clock hands had fallen off and had probably been sold as scrap. Many of the chimes and bells had gone missing, the ones that weren't too large for one or two to carry. Thankfully, the stairs that wound their way to the top had been made of metal. If they had been wood, they would have rotted and collapsed long ago. To most people, the prospect of living in an abandoned clock building was creepy and unsettling, so much silence where there should be noise. To her, even with the broken windows and dusty floors, it was home.