Something a little different...and an extra blog enrtry...a short story inspired by marvellous Monmouth...or is it only a story!?!...I will leave that up to you to decide! Roo
Silence.
Henry peered out from behind the pillar, trying to see where he was. Trying to see, where they were. But it was so dark, it was hard to see anything. He blinked hard, and again. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the Monnow Bridge to his right. He scrunched the faded photo in his pocket and closed his eyes. The year was 2013, the year that photo was taken. The picture flashed into his mind, without looking, he knew every pixel of the baby's face on that photo, every single pixel. From the curly blonde hair, fair pale skin, cherry red lips, to the bright blue eyes. If he was right, that baby would be here tonight. The reason he had come so far. Until the men had spotted him. Now he was the hunted. Henry shivered, his skin pale, grey. Slowly he opened his big, black eyes echoing the black night.
Getting back to his ship was his only goal now.
He saw two men moving across the river. He glanced upstream and saw another man crossing, and another beyond that.
Henry backed away from the river, moving deeper into the mean street. Then he turned, and ran. No-one knew Monmouth like Henry, he had researched it so hard, for so many hours. He was half-way along the street, gasping for breath when a man jumped infront of him, hissing. Henry dodged, changed direction. He glimpsed the knife in the man's hand. Henry turned again, and the man fell behind.
Still coming, still coming.
And Henry noticed the red telephone box peeking out from behind the Shire Hall.
Henry thought, I'm not going to make it.
But he had to try.
The man was getting closer. And there were more footsteps. All getting closer, closer.
Panting, lungs bursting, Henry sprinted for the old red telephone box. Only ten more yards now. His arms pumped. His legs galloped. His breath came in gasps. And he pressed the red button on his belt.
The telephone box began to hum. Henry felt a slight vibration in the tarmac beneath his feet. The hum built quickly, until it was as loud as a scream. Henry felt his whole body tremble involuntarily. He had a moment of panic - as he usually did - as he was teleported back into the old red telephone box. And a moment later, there was a blinding flash of light - coming from around him - as the box decloaked into his ship, and started ints hurtle back through time - fast!
The world around Henry was silent, so silent - till -
The ships's door was flung open.
Henry's mother - grey, black-eyes and strangely tall, 5'2'' for a 31st Century woman - stood there frowning, hands on hips, tapping her three-toed foot. "How many times Henry, no time-travelling before dinner...now give me that photo of your great-great-great-great-great-great-times-a-hundred Grandma, I should never have given it to you. You were going to see her birth? Huh."
Henry shrugged, and looked intently at the ground.
"Humans are so destructive,' Mum said. "I sometimes think back then we were a kind of plague. We destroyed things so well. They were so frightened of sightings of us. And they think we're alien not their great-great-great-great-great-great grandchildren..."
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