I have been tagged by Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith in one of her excellent ‘Finish the Story’ challenges. See the link below:
Here are the Rules–
- Copy the story as it appears when you receive it (and the rules please)
- Add somehow to the story in which ever style and length you choose
- Be sure to pingback or comment on the original post (here) please
- Tag only 1 person to continue the story
- Have fun!
Part one – by The Haunted Wordsmith
Harold’s father, Trevor, travelled the world looking for antiques for the family store in Boston. “One day you’ll get to come with me, Harold,” his father would say, but that day never came. And it probably would never come. Especially now. Two weeks ago, his father disappeared. His plane landed safely, he checked into his hotel, then disappeared. He never showed up for the appointment at the Owl Emporium in London. The family has not given up though, that’s not like them. Megan and Harold run the shop together just as they had when he was away. It was best to convince themselves that he would be back shortly, then never at all.
The door to the shop clanged early one Saturday afternoon. Harold was manning the shop while his mother bought lunch.
A short man with a grey, Herringbone jacket and a black homburg hat entered the store carrying a long tube under his arm. “Good day, young man.”
Harold was perplexed, but hey, a customer was a customer. “Hi. Can’t I help you find something?”
The man chuckled lightly. “Ah, it is I that can help you find something. It is Harold? Harold Glade is it not?”
Harold searched his memory, but couldn’t find this strange man. The look on his face made the customer chuckle.
“We have never met, young man. You can put your mind to rest. However, I have met your father, and he needs your help.”
“My father?” Harold stiffened and gasped. “How do you know my father?”
“There is no time for that. He is in danger. This map and time compass will help you. You have no time to lose. That’s all I can do to help.”
The customer put the tube on the counter, looked around quickly as if he expected some masked assassin to jump out from behind a set of armor, and ran out the door.
Harold stood there with his mouth agape and opened the tube. Inside was an ancient map and what appeared to be a compass, but neither the map nor the compass looked right. For starters, the compass not only had the four points, it had a dial with numbers on it that ranged from zero to current year. The map shifted and changed place names as Harold turned the time dial on the compass.
“What is going on?”
Just as Harold asked, the door to the shop burst open and three men in black suits stood in the doorway. Without thinking what he was doing, Harold grabbed the map, turned the time dial, and pushed a tiny button on the side of the compass.
His stomach lurched and he shut his eyes until the sudden rush of wind had stopped. When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t believe it. Instead of being in his family’s antique shop, he was …
Here is my addition…
Part Two – Tales from the Mind of Kristian
… in a beautiful garden. He gaped amazed at all the trees and flowers. The fresh, clean air was nothing like his poor polluted lungs were used to, living in a huge sprawling metropolis. If this was Boston, it was one he was not familiar with, Boston from many years ago.
There were no buildings or people. It was incredibly peaceful, the kind of atmosphere that makes you want to whisper.
Harold wandered around and heard the sound of running water, off in the distance. As he got nearer the trees thinned and he saw a little lake with a fountain gushing in its centre. This was evidence that whatever time this was, there were people around somewhere.
He continued walking around the lake and saw a sundial on a plinth. It wasn’t much good as the sun was behind a thick layer of cloud, but carved on the stone plinth was a year. 1773! Something about that date tickled the back of his mind. He was a Bostonian, born and bred but he had little love of history. The fact that his father owned an antique shop had rather tainted any love of history he may have had.
He took the map out of his pocket and examined it. America was only roughly drawn, it was clear that whoever drew the map knew of the existence of the Americas but didn’t really have any idea what they looked like. It was also clear that whatever this map was meant to help find, he was on the wrong side of the Atlantic to find it. He had to go to the old world, not the new one.
Turning over the map, he saw scrawled in tiny writing on one corner a few words in a familiar hand. It was his fathers writing, written with what appeared to be an old-fashioned quill pen, judging by the scratchy marks.
The writing gave the location of a city in Europe and a date. The date wasn’t 1773 it was even earlier than that. Harold took out the compass and turned the dial to show the coordinates and the date but before he could press the tiny button……..
to be continued……
I have also included the word prompts from another of The Haunted Wordsmiths Challenges:
whisper, little, sundial
So, who shall I nominate to continue this story…..
I choose Melanie B Cee from Sparks from combustible Mind.
Have fun, I can’t wait to read what happens next!