The Chrono-Enigma
Random drabbles, heartfelt rambles, and the occasional splash of chaos from a teen with too many thoughts and not enough time.
Ancient Egypt, estimated 2562 BC (Hieroglyphic Translation)
In the 27th year of Pharaoh Khufu’s reign, on the feast day of Horus, a majestic barque of the gods, wreathed in starlight and trailing cosmic dust, appeared on the river Nile, floating above the water. It was guided by a being with a head not unlike the sun disk of Ra himself. The divine messenger surveyed the construction with great interest, and vanished in a flash of light, turning night into day for but a moment, leaving behind strange glowing symbols.
The priests declare this as a sign of the Gods’ approval of our work.
London, 1666 (The recovered diary entry of William Burdock)
September 5
The Great Fire rages with fury, consuming all before it. Yet, amidst the chaos and despair, my eyes beheld a marvel most peculiar.
It was on the fourth of September, as the Cathedral of Saint Paul succumbed to the infernal flames, that I witnessed a sight of the most fanciful manner. Amidst the wailing and lamentations of my fellow Londoners, there stood a creature of the most queer form. Its visage was that of a clock, its face adorned with numbers and hands that seemed to turn of their own accord.
With keen interest, it regarded the burning cathedral, as though unmoved by the catastrophe. And when our gazes met, my eyes to its...dials, it vanished as swiftly as it had appeared, leaving me to question the sanity of my own mind.
Has the smoke of the fire poisoned my senses, or have I indeed glimpsed a phantom from another world?
Chicago World’s Fair, 1893 (The recovered diary entry of Henry Emerson)
May 15
The most peculiar occurrence transpired at the World’s Columbian Exposition today.
As I strolled near the Palace of Fine Arts, taking in its magnificent grandeur while simultaneously gaping at the breathtaking sights of vessels docked in Jackson Park’s sprawling waterways, I glimpsed what appeared to be a mystifying vessel materializing out of thin air! It was a steamboat, its hull a shimmery color I had never seen before. Adorned with intricate gold and copper metalwork and innumerable gears and dials, its paddles appeared to fade in and out of the waning light, as if they were made out of mist, and its jackstaff bore no flag.
Most astonishing however, was its occupant – a figure clothed in a pristine sack coat and bowler hat, both possessing a luster akin to that of melting gold, and incredibly, sporting a large, ornate clock-face where its head would be.
Astonished, I watched as its gaze – if one could call it that – fell upon the ships docked nearby. It appeared to fidget indecisively for a moment, and within a fraction of a blink, it and the ethereal vessel seemed to altogether vanish.
Have the marvels of the White City addled my mind, or have I truly glimpsed something from beyond our time?
The Present-day
I cautiously step forward, not entirely comprehending what my eyes see, and once I do, not entirely believing them.
Right there, docked in a small lake near my house, is a ship of the likes I’ve never seen before. It resembles a small yacht, only, the colour of liquefied copper and gold and bronze, pooling into a shimmery visage. It’s adorned with pistons, gears, and futuristic-looking dials, more than could possibly be of use.
Trembling, I raise a hand to pat its hull, and I am suddenly pulled inside, the entire vessel unfolding endlessly, opening up into vast layers of velvety darkness and occasional incomprehensible flashes of colour and searing light. As I fall into the abyss, the ship’s sides enveloping me like the petals of a gigantic flower, I swear I can hear the faint tinkling of a thousand clocks, each chiming to an endless, maddening beat.
I finally stop falling, and open my eyes.
I am no longer near the serene surface of the lake.
I look around and see a vast, swirling sea, the water shimmering and multicoloured, currents swirling and mixing in a dizzying chromatic sway of motion, the very air a ballet of iridescent chaos. Above me, the sky is vast and endless, a dome of inky blackness dotted with infinitesimal unrecognizable stars and galaxies.
Chunks of rubble, fragments of monuments; landmarks of history, float serenely a few meters above the water, seeming to follow the churning currents below. I notice that the more ancient pieces tend to follow similarly coloured streams of movement. The ship lurches forward, and I fall on my back.
Moments before slipping away into darkness, spread eagled on the deck of a strange ship, my eyes fall upon a peculiar sight: a large, round, clock-face; gold and, like the ship, covered in gears and dials and - is that a compass - staring down at me.