Pandora's Box

This is for the Historical Fiction contest, about a young girl named Pandora who moves to a new state and finds hidden treasures within the attic in boxes.


5. Meeting

                They say that if at first you don't succeed to try, try again. But what happens when you succeed in time travel for the first time ever and have no idea what's happening? You scream. A lot.

                Of course I can't hear myself scream, though, because I'm going through absolute nothing and therefore my screams can't exist. I look down to where my hands should be and see a silhouette of them with flat patterns of space printed there. The stars travel vividly and swiftly through my fingers, and I shriek some more to discover this is in the rest of me as well. Suddenly everything shuts down to black, space fades away, and I slam against a floor with a heavy thud.

                I opened my eyes to my room upstairs, with all of Carly's furniture back where it was. Had I really traveled back in time? I quickly turned to see Carly's desk, and there were only three newspaper articles up, with the paper and scissors underneath it. She would have been my age by 1917. Was it really 96 years back?

                "Wh-Who are you?"

                I turned around quickly and stood up just as fast. She was right in front of me, and she looked ready to scream louder than I had been. She closed the floor door to the room and stared at me like a zoo animal.

                "I, uh..." I stumbled. "My name is Pandora. I'm from the future?" I wondered if she was going to scream for help, or beat me up, and shook where I stood.

                "Oh, so you're my Centennial Sister. I was just about wondering where you were! I'm Carly Wiltshire, a pleasure." She extended her hand to me, but drew it away just as I started to shake it.

                "Oh, darling, what are you wearing?" Carly exclaimed, looking me up and down with her originally-outstretched hand pointing at my red headphones, One Direction tank top, black jeans, rubber bracelets, and Converse. "Are you some sort of hooligan? Has Fate paired me up with a complete nitwit?! What proper lady wears... trousers." Carly shudders.

               "They're skinny jeans!" I exclaimed. I didn't expect Carly to be so snobby, especially about fashion. She herself was wearing some sort of long blue lace dress, matching hat, the necklace, and a Women's Suffrage sash across her chest.

               "Oh well. As long as you're here, be a dear and hang up this sash for me?" Carly said, handing the "Vote for Women" sash to me. I put it on her hat rack as carefully as possible; this could be worth so much money and had no complete relation to Carly considering the thousands of them out there.

               "Thank you, Skinny Jeans. I'll pack it in my trunks later." Carly said, taking off her hat and hanging it up beside the sash. I nodded and sat in her desk chair absently.

               "Please, tell me about the future. Is it anything like the postcards I get from my fans?" Carly asked excitedly, running to open a small suitcase in the very back of the closet. I'd never noticed it before. She opened it and pulled out various postcards depicting robots, children in schools learning through headsets, hover cars, trains from China to America, and a man talking to a woman through a mouthpiece and a projection screen being operated by someone else.

               "Not exactly," I laughed. "We do have airplanes to other countries - you know of airplanes, right? And we have video chatting on Skype and Oovoo, and projection screens in class."

               "I'll pretend to understand that." Carly smiled. "Considering you know everything about my time and I know nothing about yours. Am I still famous?"

               "I hadn't heard of you until when I moved in here, so no." I replied. Carly looked stricken, then sighed.

               "Oh well. I guess I can't really make it in film, not even for Mother." Carly said to herself.

               "For Mother?" I asked. Carly blushed at my question, then looked to the clock. My curiosity surged.

               "It's two in the morning, how are you not sleeping? Go on home now. Turn the stone three times to the left to go home. I need my beauty sleep if I'm to be beautiful and famous." Carly said, strutting about the room and fluffling her bob haircut with her hands.

               I guess she wants me to forget about her mother.

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