fotd, grapefruit, cookies 'n' cream and another malt!
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Your Own Worst Enemy
Rating: G
Challenge: FOTD: wunderkind, Grapefruit: end of the tunnel, Cookies ‘n’ Cream #11: grow/shrink
Toppings/Extras: chopped nuts, whipped cream, fresh peaches, fresh pineapple, malt
Wordcount: 1,702
Summary: An eight-year-old Edward Ashdown receives unwanted advice.
Notes: Oh, I wish this would happen, but somehow I don’t quite see it. Wunderkind: A child prodigy. Grapefruit PFAH: Ashdown and a child. Peaches: It isn’t worth the worry because the situation changes whether decision-makers like it or not. Pineapple: Black Betty had a child (bam-ba-lam)/ Damn thing gone wild (bam-ba-lam).-“Black Betty”, Spiderbait.
The child in the bed, eight years old, appeared sound asleep. Thick quilt pulled up to just under his chin, hair the colour of the sand on Cornwall beaches splayed around his head, the boy rested. It was a wintry night with a sting in the air, the fireplace long since reduced to a smouldered-down piled of blackened peat, curtains drawn tightly.
Edward Ashdown, however, had always been a light sleeper, and an eye instantly opened at the sound of his bedroom door closing. The only person allowed in his room at night was Father Christmas, and it was nowhere near the twenty-fourth of December.
Keeping an eye on the two figures in the gloom, Edward didn’t panic, merely contemplated his options. There was an iron-wrought poker by the fireplace, which he knew was quite good for hitting things with.
After what sounded like quiet nagging, a match flared and then an oil-lantern flourished into light. It cast a warm light across the wooden floor and upon the ancient walls.
In the new light, Edward could see the intruders clearly-a man and a woman.
The man was dressed in fairly conventional clothing, though his frockcoat was of deeper, more vibrant hues than Edward was used to seeing. He didn’t have much of a concept of fashion, but he knew that it was different somehow. The woman, on the other hand, was dressed absolutely bizarrely, with dark green baggy trousers tucked into huge beetle-black boots that laced halfway up her shins. She was tall, too-almost a foot taller than the man, if Edward’s judgment was correct, which it usually was-and with long blonde hair tied back into a cord.
“Nice room,” the woman was commenting dryly, glancing around it. “Er, not very personal though, is it?”
“Shush,” the man said absently, stepping closer to the bed. The woman, holding the lantern, followed behind him a few steps but hung back. “This is important.”
What’s important? Edward thought, and then sat up, pinning the man with a haughty glare.
“Who are you?” he demanded. To his surprise, the tall woman started laughing almost instantly.
“I can see the resemblance,” she said eventually, suppressing a few giggles. “D’you remember when we first met?”
The man looked a little taken aback, but took the time to glance disparagingly at the woman.
“I’m here to give you some very good advice,” the man said after a pause, levelling his gaze sternly at the boy in the bed. Edward merely scowled back at the man.
“Are you homeless?” Edward asked. “My mother says that all homeless people are mad.”
“Oh, wow,” the woman said.
“We don’t need a running commentary, Walshe,” the man snapped before turning back to Edward. “And no, I am not homeless. Or mad.”
“I bet you are,” Edward muttered, pulling the quilt up to his chin.
“Are you miserable?” the man asked. “I can’t really remember. I think eight years old was when it all started going pear-shaped…”
“What?”
“I’m just saying,” the man said. “Anyway, you’ll be happy one day, as long as you make the right choices. Which, er, you probably won’t-but you’ll be happy anyway because… people are nice. Something like that.”
“Hey, do you want to try making sense?” the woman he had called Walshe said, putting a hand on one hip and tossing her head like a horse to get some dangling strands of hair out of her face. “I’m just saying, it might be helpful.”
“I’m getting there.”
“Listen, mister,” Edward snapped, “if you’re here to kidnap me or kill my father, I’ll…”
“Yes,” the man said brightly as the young boy trailed off, “I’m sure you will. Look. Being nice isn’t really my thing. Well, I’m actually being selfish in a way, but it’s still a bit strange.”
“You realise this will only change the future of one timeframe out of countless billions and trillions?” Walshe asked, exasperated. “Adam only let us do this because he’s bonkers. Please don’t get all existential on me, or I will have to kill you.”
“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Edward snapped, frustrated. He didn’t often feel out of his depth, usually talking well with the most verbose of adults, but these two were not even speaking what sounded like English. The man looked shocked.
“I’m sure I didn’t know words like that when I was eight!”
“You’re only fooling yourself,” Walshe said with a little smile.
“I am going to call the servants to kill you,” Edward said with an admirable degree of determination. He threw the quilt off of himself and regretted it instantly as cold air quickly wrapped itself around him. “You let a draught in!”
“Er, Edward,” the man said. “I’m you.”
“What?”
“I’m you, but grown up.”
“You really must be mad,” Edward said, and his expression instantly merged into a frigid sneer. “I’m going to be much taller than you are.”
“Excuse me?”
“My father is the tallest man I’ve ever seen. Ergo, I am going to be tall too. Anyway, you’re really annoying.”
“Listen, you little brat…!”
At this point, Walshe started laughing so loudly and helplessly that the rest of the man’s outraged splutter was rendered inaudible.
“I’m really smart, so I’m going to boarding school and getting an education so I can make lots of money and not end up homeless like you.”
“I’m not homeless. I have a very big home.”
“I don’t see it anywhere.”
“Well, I could hardly bring it with me, could I?” the man complained. “Oh, here you go, have a big manor I just dragged over from the Bahamas. Only about twenty acres of land attached.”
“They say sarcasm is the lowest form of…”
“I know,” the man said, clearly exasperated. “I am here to help you, you know. Give you advice you may want to listen to. It will save you a lot of trouble and, most probably, confusion.”
“Good job,” Edward said flatly, which made Walshe bite her knuckles quite hard.
“Don’t laugh,” the man said, clearly distressed. “I thought I was nicer than this.”
“How’s that denial going for you?” Walshe asked innocently.
“If you’re me,” Edward began, wrapping the blanket around himself again and huddling back down in his bed-he had decided that the strange man and his cohort were not a threat. “If you’re really me, then… what’s my favourite… food?”
“How am I meant to remember these things?” the man asked, eyebrows high in incredulity. “Turkish delight? Those little sesame things? Or perhaps nothing at all, looking at how scrawny you are…”
“Insulting yourself?” Walshe asked. “Really?”
Edward used the final weapon in his arsenal, which consisted greatly of widening his pale blue eyes until he looked like a kicked puppy.
“Ugh, stop that.”
“And in addition, you insulted a child. Great work, Ashdown, that is fantastic.”
“It doesn’t count when it’s myself.” The man began waving his arms suddenly. “I didn’t anticipate on my past self being such an insufferable little twit!”
“Er, dearest?” Walshe lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “Not a lot’s changed.”
Without authorisation, a squeaky giggle erupted from Edward’s mouth. He squirmed under his blankets and scrutinised both of the strangers. When his gaze landed on the man claiming to be his future self, his expression was partially of critical examination and partially of disappointment.
“But why aren’t I taller?” Edward whined.
“That doesn’t matter,” Ashdown said, pointing a condemning finger at him at last. “Just… good grief, I don’t know, try to be nice to people.”
“It does matter,” Edward said, unwilling to budge from the subject.
“Do you want to end up like Gargantua over here?” Ashdown asked, gesturing towards Walshe, who rolled her eyes but kept on grinning. “Being tall is overvalued. But I’m not actually here to talk about that.”
“What are you here to talk about, then?” Edward asked.
“The question we’ve all been waiting for,” Walshe said, glancing at Ashdown. “We don’t have much time, Eddie-boy.”
“Don’t call me that,” Ashdown and Edward said, on cue.
“Look,” Ashdown continued, “there’s no easy way to say this. In the most basic terms: try to be nicer. It’s probably best if you don’t get married, though if you do, respect your wife. Trust Isaac Prowse. If this pleb,” he nodded his head towards Walshe, “ever shows up in your bedroom again, then… well, I guess she’s not so bad. And most importantly, kill Jacob Graham the first time you ever meet him.”
Young Edward simply stared at him.
“It does make sense,” Walshe said, obviously a little chuffed at the ‘not so bad’ comment. “But not yet. Anyway, you’ll probably think this was all a dream or something.” She waggled the fingers of her free hand spookily. “Now, come on, man. We’ve got to go.”
“We own a time machine,” Ashdown said with a nostalgic little glance around the room. “Can’t we stay a while longer?”
“We have to get back to the right frame,” Walshe said.
“Is this that time-is-a-loaf-of-bread thing again?” Ashdown asked weakly.
Edward peered cautiously at them.
“Are you leaving?” he asked.
“Yes,” Walshe said firmly. She glanced at her watch. “Adam can’t cover for us forever,” she added in a singsong voice.
“Remember my advice,” Ashdown said, pointing a finger at him. “I’m sure you don’t want to end up going back and telling your past self not to kill your mother.”
“You didn’t!”
“No, I didn’t, but I swear I was close,” Ashdown sighed wistfully. “Anyway, good night, you strange child. Go and overachieve.”
“I will,” Edward said, furrowing his brow. “By the way, are you really me?”
“Yes. And no, you’re not going to get taller than this. Stop asking.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fine.”
Pouting to himself, Edward huddled down under his blankets and pondered for a moment. It all seemed fairly impossible, which was reassuring in a way. The concept of magic and the like was never alien to Edward Ashdown, in fact he had always rather liked the sound of it. Still, it had been a bit of a peculiar meeting.
“What about…?” he asked, sitting up, but the strangers were gone.
Title: Your Own Worst Enemy
Rating: G
Challenge: FOTD: wunderkind, Grapefruit: end of the tunnel, Cookies ‘n’ Cream #11: grow/shrink
Toppings/Extras: chopped nuts, whipped cream, fresh peaches, fresh pineapple, malt
Wordcount: 1,702
Summary: An eight-year-old Edward Ashdown receives unwanted advice.
Notes: Oh, I wish this would happen, but somehow I don’t quite see it. Wunderkind: A child prodigy. Grapefruit PFAH: Ashdown and a child. Peaches: It isn’t worth the worry because the situation changes whether decision-makers like it or not. Pineapple: Black Betty had a child (bam-ba-lam)/ Damn thing gone wild (bam-ba-lam).-“Black Betty”, Spiderbait.
The child in the bed, eight years old, appeared sound asleep. Thick quilt pulled up to just under his chin, hair the colour of the sand on Cornwall beaches splayed around his head, the boy rested. It was a wintry night with a sting in the air, the fireplace long since reduced to a smouldered-down piled of blackened peat, curtains drawn tightly.
Edward Ashdown, however, had always been a light sleeper, and an eye instantly opened at the sound of his bedroom door closing. The only person allowed in his room at night was Father Christmas, and it was nowhere near the twenty-fourth of December.
Keeping an eye on the two figures in the gloom, Edward didn’t panic, merely contemplated his options. There was an iron-wrought poker by the fireplace, which he knew was quite good for hitting things with.
After what sounded like quiet nagging, a match flared and then an oil-lantern flourished into light. It cast a warm light across the wooden floor and upon the ancient walls.
In the new light, Edward could see the intruders clearly-a man and a woman.
The man was dressed in fairly conventional clothing, though his frockcoat was of deeper, more vibrant hues than Edward was used to seeing. He didn’t have much of a concept of fashion, but he knew that it was different somehow. The woman, on the other hand, was dressed absolutely bizarrely, with dark green baggy trousers tucked into huge beetle-black boots that laced halfway up her shins. She was tall, too-almost a foot taller than the man, if Edward’s judgment was correct, which it usually was-and with long blonde hair tied back into a cord.
“Nice room,” the woman was commenting dryly, glancing around it. “Er, not very personal though, is it?”
“Shush,” the man said absently, stepping closer to the bed. The woman, holding the lantern, followed behind him a few steps but hung back. “This is important.”
What’s important? Edward thought, and then sat up, pinning the man with a haughty glare.
“Who are you?” he demanded. To his surprise, the tall woman started laughing almost instantly.
“I can see the resemblance,” she said eventually, suppressing a few giggles. “D’you remember when we first met?”
The man looked a little taken aback, but took the time to glance disparagingly at the woman.
“I’m here to give you some very good advice,” the man said after a pause, levelling his gaze sternly at the boy in the bed. Edward merely scowled back at the man.
“Are you homeless?” Edward asked. “My mother says that all homeless people are mad.”
“Oh, wow,” the woman said.
“We don’t need a running commentary, Walshe,” the man snapped before turning back to Edward. “And no, I am not homeless. Or mad.”
“I bet you are,” Edward muttered, pulling the quilt up to his chin.
“Are you miserable?” the man asked. “I can’t really remember. I think eight years old was when it all started going pear-shaped…”
“What?”
“I’m just saying,” the man said. “Anyway, you’ll be happy one day, as long as you make the right choices. Which, er, you probably won’t-but you’ll be happy anyway because… people are nice. Something like that.”
“Hey, do you want to try making sense?” the woman he had called Walshe said, putting a hand on one hip and tossing her head like a horse to get some dangling strands of hair out of her face. “I’m just saying, it might be helpful.”
“I’m getting there.”
“Listen, mister,” Edward snapped, “if you’re here to kidnap me or kill my father, I’ll…”
“Yes,” the man said brightly as the young boy trailed off, “I’m sure you will. Look. Being nice isn’t really my thing. Well, I’m actually being selfish in a way, but it’s still a bit strange.”
“You realise this will only change the future of one timeframe out of countless billions and trillions?” Walshe asked, exasperated. “Adam only let us do this because he’s bonkers. Please don’t get all existential on me, or I will have to kill you.”
“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Edward snapped, frustrated. He didn’t often feel out of his depth, usually talking well with the most verbose of adults, but these two were not even speaking what sounded like English. The man looked shocked.
“I’m sure I didn’t know words like that when I was eight!”
“You’re only fooling yourself,” Walshe said with a little smile.
“I am going to call the servants to kill you,” Edward said with an admirable degree of determination. He threw the quilt off of himself and regretted it instantly as cold air quickly wrapped itself around him. “You let a draught in!”
“Er, Edward,” the man said. “I’m you.”
“What?”
“I’m you, but grown up.”
“You really must be mad,” Edward said, and his expression instantly merged into a frigid sneer. “I’m going to be much taller than you are.”
“Excuse me?”
“My father is the tallest man I’ve ever seen. Ergo, I am going to be tall too. Anyway, you’re really annoying.”
“Listen, you little brat…!”
At this point, Walshe started laughing so loudly and helplessly that the rest of the man’s outraged splutter was rendered inaudible.
“I’m really smart, so I’m going to boarding school and getting an education so I can make lots of money and not end up homeless like you.”
“I’m not homeless. I have a very big home.”
“I don’t see it anywhere.”
“Well, I could hardly bring it with me, could I?” the man complained. “Oh, here you go, have a big manor I just dragged over from the Bahamas. Only about twenty acres of land attached.”
“They say sarcasm is the lowest form of…”
“I know,” the man said, clearly exasperated. “I am here to help you, you know. Give you advice you may want to listen to. It will save you a lot of trouble and, most probably, confusion.”
“Good job,” Edward said flatly, which made Walshe bite her knuckles quite hard.
“Don’t laugh,” the man said, clearly distressed. “I thought I was nicer than this.”
“How’s that denial going for you?” Walshe asked innocently.
“If you’re me,” Edward began, wrapping the blanket around himself again and huddling back down in his bed-he had decided that the strange man and his cohort were not a threat. “If you’re really me, then… what’s my favourite… food?”
“How am I meant to remember these things?” the man asked, eyebrows high in incredulity. “Turkish delight? Those little sesame things? Or perhaps nothing at all, looking at how scrawny you are…”
“Insulting yourself?” Walshe asked. “Really?”
Edward used the final weapon in his arsenal, which consisted greatly of widening his pale blue eyes until he looked like a kicked puppy.
“Ugh, stop that.”
“And in addition, you insulted a child. Great work, Ashdown, that is fantastic.”
“It doesn’t count when it’s myself.” The man began waving his arms suddenly. “I didn’t anticipate on my past self being such an insufferable little twit!”
“Er, dearest?” Walshe lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “Not a lot’s changed.”
Without authorisation, a squeaky giggle erupted from Edward’s mouth. He squirmed under his blankets and scrutinised both of the strangers. When his gaze landed on the man claiming to be his future self, his expression was partially of critical examination and partially of disappointment.
“But why aren’t I taller?” Edward whined.
“That doesn’t matter,” Ashdown said, pointing a condemning finger at him at last. “Just… good grief, I don’t know, try to be nice to people.”
“It does matter,” Edward said, unwilling to budge from the subject.
“Do you want to end up like Gargantua over here?” Ashdown asked, gesturing towards Walshe, who rolled her eyes but kept on grinning. “Being tall is overvalued. But I’m not actually here to talk about that.”
“What are you here to talk about, then?” Edward asked.
“The question we’ve all been waiting for,” Walshe said, glancing at Ashdown. “We don’t have much time, Eddie-boy.”
“Don’t call me that,” Ashdown and Edward said, on cue.
“Look,” Ashdown continued, “there’s no easy way to say this. In the most basic terms: try to be nicer. It’s probably best if you don’t get married, though if you do, respect your wife. Trust Isaac Prowse. If this pleb,” he nodded his head towards Walshe, “ever shows up in your bedroom again, then… well, I guess she’s not so bad. And most importantly, kill Jacob Graham the first time you ever meet him.”
Young Edward simply stared at him.
“It does make sense,” Walshe said, obviously a little chuffed at the ‘not so bad’ comment. “But not yet. Anyway, you’ll probably think this was all a dream or something.” She waggled the fingers of her free hand spookily. “Now, come on, man. We’ve got to go.”
“We own a time machine,” Ashdown said with a nostalgic little glance around the room. “Can’t we stay a while longer?”
“We have to get back to the right frame,” Walshe said.
“Is this that time-is-a-loaf-of-bread thing again?” Ashdown asked weakly.
Edward peered cautiously at them.
“Are you leaving?” he asked.
“Yes,” Walshe said firmly. She glanced at her watch. “Adam can’t cover for us forever,” she added in a singsong voice.
“Remember my advice,” Ashdown said, pointing a finger at him. “I’m sure you don’t want to end up going back and telling your past self not to kill your mother.”
“You didn’t!”
“No, I didn’t, but I swear I was close,” Ashdown sighed wistfully. “Anyway, good night, you strange child. Go and overachieve.”
“I will,” Edward said, furrowing his brow. “By the way, are you really me?”
“Yes. And no, you’re not going to get taller than this. Stop asking.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fine.”
Pouting to himself, Edward huddled down under his blankets and pondered for a moment. It all seemed fairly impossible, which was reassuring in a way. The concept of magic and the like was never alien to Edward Ashdown, in fact he had always rather liked the sound of it. Still, it had been a bit of a peculiar meeting.
“What about…?” he asked, sitting up, but the strangers were gone.