Thursday, 9 August 2012

Epic story of love, murder and time travel



(Note: do not read this as a serious love story. It has time travel and stupid jokes in it.)

Anne Hathaway was an angry woman. To the outside world, it would seem like she was doing quite well. After she had graduated from medical school she had set up her own practice in the small town in the north of England where she grew up, and from then on her life had just happened to her. Anne was angry about her job, she hates every single one of her patients. She also hated the fact that she had the same name as that famous actress and Shakespeare’s wife. People don’t realise how hard it is to have the same name as a celebrity. Anne knew a man called Bill Murray once. He killed himself.
 She lived in the house she was born in, and where she had lived with her parents until she went to university. She had intended to move back for just a few months until she would find her own place to live, but then her parents tragically died in a car accident and she could just not find the energy to sell the house and find something else. Her chronic lack of time and inspiration had also prevented her from changing anything about the interior. She slept in her parents’ old bed, ate at her parents’ old dining table, and sat in the garden on her parents’ old wooden garden furniture.
On a moderately sunny day in April, Anne sat in the garden, attempting to read a book that used to belong to her father, when her neighbour Isis climbed on a chair to be able to see over the hedge.

“Hello Anne! Nice day innit?”

“Hi Isis. Yes, it is indeed a rather nice day.”

“Now my dear, do tell me off if I am being intrusive, but I’ve noticed that you don’t get company very often.”

Anne tensed up, this was not exactly a conversation she felt like having. “That’s true, I suppose…”

“Just tell me if I should mind me own business, but you know the post office up the road right?”

“Yes…?”

“The other day I went there to post some letters to me grandson, and I had the nicest little chat with the chap who runs it. He’s just moved to town to take the office over from the previous owner, and he said he didn’t really know anyone in town yet. Now just tell me if you’re not interested, but I thought maybe it’d be nice if the two of you went for a coffee sometime! You could use some company, he could use some new friends, who knows what might happen! He’s a real looker too.”

Anne sighed. “That’s really very thoughtful of you Isis, but I don’t really have time to go and have coffee with this… man. “

“Alright fair enough I suppose. If you change your mind let me know though!”

“I definitely will.”


Later that day, when Anne was getting ready for bed, she opened the cupboard to find a top to wear to bed. Next to her pile of bedclothes was a neatly stacked collection of pyjama bottoms her dad used to wear.

“I need to get rid of their stuff,” she said aloud. “I NEED to get rid of their stuff.”

But at this moment, she felt too tired to even remove her make-up.

As she lay in bed, unsatisfied with being unable to throw out her dad’s pyjama bottoms, she thought that maybe, just maybe, if she met a bloke she fancied she might be arsed to clean up the house. If he came over for dinner, and some wine would be involved, and he’d be unable to drive home so he’d have to stay over…

The next day, Anne put a note in Isis’ letter box. It said ‘I’ve changed my mind.”


Ten days later, Anne sat down at a small table in the corner of the café next to the library. It was a quarter past two. Owen, as the post office man was called, was not supposed to be here until half past, but Anna just happened to be the kind of person who was always early.  For the next fifteen minutes, she decided, she’d just listed to the conversation the couple next to her was having.

“You what’s fascinating? Elephants remember everything, forever,” said the woman, while petting the baby she had on her lap on the head.

“Ah yeah,” said her friend, “Once I heard this story, there was this man and he grew up in India. He always used to play with this elephant, he’d feed him cookies and stuff, and…”

“I don’t think elephants eat cookies,” interrupted the woman with the baby.

“Then maybe it was something else. Anyway, he played with that elephant for years, until his family moved to another country. Then years later he went travelling around the world. At one point he was in Thailand, and he wanted to go and rent an elephant to ride on. So he goes to this place where you can rent elephants, and there’s this one elephant who goes bananas as soon as he arrives! It tried to touch him with his trunk an everything.”

“So it was the same elephant?”

“No… no it was a completely different elephant. It was just really enthusiastic. But he THOUGHT at first that it was the elephant from India.”

Anna stared out the window, wondering what Owen would look like. Isis had described him as ‘quite tall but not abnormally so and with hair that is kind of brown’. She looked at her watch. 2.23.

The door opened, and seconds later there was a loud bang. Before Anne realised what had happened the woman with the baby fell to the ground, a trail of blood trickling from her head. It wasn’t until everyone started to panic that the reality hit her; someone shot the woman in the head.


Three hours later Anne sat on a bench in the park. Being a doctor, she had attempted to help the woman, but the bullet had gone straight through her brain, killing her instantly. The police had arrives swiftly, everyone in the café had made confusing statements about what the killer looked like. He had been wearing a black motorcycle helmet so no one had recognised him.
Anne felt a slight feeling of guilt when she realised she was disproportionately pissed off about the fact that because of the drama, the date with Owen had not happened. She didn’t even know if he’d shown up, he might as well have stood her up and she’d never know.  

She stood up from the bench and started walking in the direction of her house, when suddenly an overwhelming white light appeared, blinding her completely. She had a sensation of falling, or perhaps jumping, only for a second, before suddenly the light disappeared. For a moment Anne wondered if she had died, but then she realised she was aware of it, and being aware of being dead seemed like a very improbable situation to her. She shrugged and decided it was probably some kind of after effect from the shock from before, and continued her way home. Her heart sank when she saw Isis coming around the corner.

“Anne dear!”

“Isis, hello. I… the date…”

“You better be on your way soon hon.”

“… we were supposed to meet at 2.30.”

“That’s what I’m saying, it’s ten past two, and I know you like to get to places early.”

Anne turned around to check if she could see the time on the church clock. Ten past two…

“But… the murder.”

“What are you talking about you silly, have you been watching your dreadful CSI shows again all night? Rightie I’m off home, have fun with Owen!”

Anne watched Isis walk away. “Time travel,” she said out loud. “I travelled in time.  It’s ten past two. I can go to the café and meet Owen.”

Then it dawned on her. “I can stop the killer.


She entered the café and sat down at a table next to the door, looking around anxiously. Everything looked exactly the same as it had done a few hours ago, except that wasn’t a few hours ago. An older gentleman with a newspaper sat at the table next to her, a group of teenage girls sat in the back, and the woman with the baby and her friend sat at the table where they had sat before, except not before, talking to her friend. Anne could still catch their conversation from the other side of the room.

“So it was the same elephant?”

“No… no it was a completely different elephant. It was just really enthusiastic. But he THOUGHT at first that it was the elephant from India.”

Anne froze when she felt  a cold wind coming from the opening door. The killer. A tall man in a black motorcycle helmet came in, and before she could fully realise what was going on, Anne kicked the chair next to her in front of him, making him trip and fall over.

“Oi watch out you idiot!” he said, trying to get back on his feet.

Anne stood up and kicked him in the groin. “HE HAS A GUN! GUN!!! WATCH OUT!”

All the café guests stood up to watch as she kicked him again and the gun fell out of his hand, sliding away outside of his reach towards the door.

Just as the older gentleman with the newspaper got up to help, the door opened again, and in came another tall man, wearing a denim jacket, luckily without a motorcycle helmet this time.
“What’s going on?” he asked, looking slightly panicked as he took in the scene of the man of the floor, Anne standing on his hand to keep him from moving.

“Grab the gun!” she called out, and he did, just before the man pulled his hand free and tried to get up again. As he tried to get away, Anne grabbed hold of his motorcycle and pulled it off his head.

“YOU!” The woman with the baby stood up, looking furiously. “What on EARTH are you doing here with a fucking GUN?!”

“Shut up you whore, how dare you walking around the town with that filthy bastard child of yours!”

The woman turned white as a sheet. “You came here to shoot me. You wanted to kill me.”

“You deserve it you disgusting bitch!” Just as the would-be-killer tried to lash out to her, the man in the doorway grabbed him from behind and pressed the gun against his head.

“Not so quick… let’s just wait here for a few minutes until the police arrives.”


After the police had arrested the man and taken him away, the woman with the baby came up to Anne.
“I can’t thank you enough! It’s my ex-husband, he never forgave me for leaving him. I never thought he would actually try to kill me!”

Anne smiled. “I guess I just… sensed that he was up to no good.”
“And you, thank you so much as well!” she said to the man in the denim jacket. “What is your name?”
“Owen. Owen Wilson. Yes, like the actor, I know…”

Anne woke up and was greeted by the smell of fresh coffee. She yawned and turned around, but then decided to get up and made her way downstairs.

Owen grinned as he saw her coming down the stairs. “Good morning my love.”

She sat down on their bright new floral patterned sofa, feeling very content with the beautiful pale lilac she had painted the walls when Owen had moved in.

He gave her a kiss on the cheek as he sat down next to her and pressed a steaming cup of coffee into her hands.

THE END

(The moral of this story is: time travel is essential for preventing murders and finding love)

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