Time Capsule

I stepped inside the capsule and hoped to be taken to the moment it all began, a moment where everything would make sense once again. A moment of illuminating bliss where life, death and eternity would take on a whole new meaning. I closed the door and take in the rusty smell of the metal cabin. Buttons strategically placed all across the walls, some lit others flashing might seem overwhelming to the untrained pilot. On the dusty dashboard is placed my shiny red helmet. I put it on. The excitement of what is to come is almost unbearable, with sweaty palms I reach for the key chained around my neck. The key feels cold and heavy in my hand as I reach for the ignition. I turn it once, nothing happens. I turn it a second time, still no sound. Hoping that third is a charm, I turn it thrice and luckily the engine roars to life. I slip my hand in my dirty jean pocket and make sure the couple of bulbs I managed to salvage were still there. Tulip bulbs, her favorite. I will grow them when I reach my destination. Now, I watch through the window with calming resolve what I am to leave behind.

On my left are the remains of what used to be a beautiful home. There are torn couches, broken chairs and crushed glass all across the floor. Fallen tables, a few crushed family portraits, one headless doll and a shattered crib fill the room. Wood debris and glass shreds occupy the once perfectly soft navy colored Persian rug. I shouldn’t look at the walls. Too late, I already peaked; the creamy white walls are stained. I quickly turn my glare back to the dashboard. I shouldn’t look anymore. Instead I look at my reflection. It came to me as no surprise when I saw the empty look in my eyes. Desolate and soulless they match my emotionless face. My left cheek is also stained. Now that I look carefully so are my shoulders and the upper-right side of my chest. I’m waiting for the pain to sink in, for me to feel something. But nothing. Numbness is all I feel. I breathe out a sight of relief, close my eyes for a brief instant and decide to look again, but this time I turn my head to the right. I immediately regret it. But my eyes are frozen in place. Unable to escape this sight I try to pretend that all is okay. That nothing changed, nothing happened. Who am I kidding; I try to let out a scream. Yet no sound escapes my lips. I shudder.  Lifeless. They are all lifeless and stained. The stench is suffocating me. The blood in my head is pounding while my heart beats to a thump similar to that of a death march. I begin to feel strangely light; I need to get out.

I return my attention to the dashboard, I am leaving and I’m not coming back. This life has long been overdue. I need to head back to the tulips and to the dolls, to that moment in time where the birds still sang in the trees and when the sun still rose in the morning. It is with that particular mindset that with firm determination I pull the time capsule’s handle towards me.

A blinding white light and it’s already over.