#Flash Fiction

Time-Observer 77

The swimming pool café-shop had high ceilings, high enough for a picture rail and a dado rail to not seem out of place. It had three tall windows that faced to the front of the building which overlooked a quiet suburban road leading out of the small town of Carlow. The ceilings were white, with soft yellow on the walls.

As he sat there blending in, drinking his disgusting sweet milky tea, Time-Observer 77 watched crowds of wet children trooping in and buying bags of jellies, fizzy colas and refreshers. He noted this in his journal for his later report. ‘They are addicted to sugar. Perhaps this explains their impending extinction.’ The Coca-Cola fridge hummed noisily near the white exit door. The door’s oval, brass doorknob had not been polished in thirty years. Not since his last visit at least.

Outside the wind blew the variegated yellow-green leaves of young trees, planted some thirty years ago when this old school was first converted into a swimming pool. The seats he sat on did not belong, they were more suited to outside a café in Paris or on the veranda of an Englishman’s estate in Delhi, circa, 1926. The seats were made of bamboo from China, or maybe plastic fashioned to look like bamboo, only a deconstruction of their parts could have told him that and he did not have the tools today.

With his disgusting tea finished and his observing complete for now he got up and left to return to the future and submit his report.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s