Memories Lost in Time

Katirina Hartford is a 16 year old girl from Gold Gait High. Everything is fine until she discovers a family secret. Soon she finds herself in a sticky situation in the past, trapped. She must find her way home and while fighting for her life and for the love of her life. There is mystery, deception, and high stakes. Will she make it home, or will she be stuck in the past?


2. The Gift


The Gift

“Katirina! Kati! Can you hear me? Are you down there? Katirina Hartford!” I hear a voice yelling as I slowly come to my senses. It takes me a moment to realize that it is Cynthia.

“Cyn? Cynthia! I'm OK! I'm down here!” I yell back. I quickly start searching close to me for my phone. I slide my hands across the cold ground in hopes of finding my phone. After a few seconds, my hand hits something. I grasp my phone and hit the power button. The screen lights up. It is cracked, but I can still use it. I turn on my flashlight.

“Are you hurt?” Cynthia asked, worry in her tone. I shine the light up at her, then test my legs. I stand, sway, then regain my balance.

“No, not as far as I can tell. But I do have a little bit of a headache though.”

“Stay where you are; I'm going to find a way down there.”

“Be careful!” we yell in unison. I decide to look around. I cast my light in front of me and jump back. There is someone staring back at me. No not someone, it is only a painting. I turn in a slow circle and am shocked to find myself standing in the middle of a long corridor, with doors on either side and in between the doors are paintings of all sorts. With not an inch of room between them. It is like the wallpaper was framed canvas paintings, hung with precision. All of the paintings are of lush landscapes with different dates at the bottom from 1910, 1912, 1860, 1940 and so it went on. Some paintings have people in them others are of the countryside, while others are of bustling cities and cars, many are horse-drawn carriages in the middle of what look like London, and dirt roads.

As I look closer at the paintings they look surreal. Almost as if you are looking out the window of your house or walking along the road. They seem too lifelike. I am so fascinated with the paintings that I don’t  realize I am reaching out until my hand brushes the painting. It ripples like the water of a still lake that had been disrupted by a pebble. I jump back and give a muffled cry.

“What the…,” I murmur,  and slowly approach the painting again. I reach my hand out again and with the lightest touch feel the surface of the painting. Again it ripples and I am mesmerised. I think I am imagining things. I keep walking down the hall. I stop at another painting, lightly brushing its surface. It does the same thing, and on it goes with every painting I touch, the surface ripples. I am still examining the pictures when a light turns on and the door opens. Cynthia comes running into the corridor.

“Kati,” Cynthia said breathlessly as she scooped me into a hug. “Are you alright? I was so worried,” she said, her words muffled by my hair.

“Yes, I'm all right. Oh! You'll never believe it, Cyn,” I say, pulling away from her. “Watch this.” I reach out and touch the painting. It does as it had before and I turn to my best friend. When I looked at her she wears  a look of utter shock as I had, but makes no sound. Slowly she reaches out brushing, the surface of the painting. Nothing happens. With a confused expression she touches it again with the same result. She turns to me.

“Why isn't it doing anything?” She sounds kind of hurt by this.

“I don't know. Let me try again.” I say and touch it again. Just like before the surface ripples, but instead of withdrawing my hand I push it forward into the painting and to my astonishment, it goes  in and disappears. We both gasp and I quickly removed my hand, hugging it to my chest. We stand  in silence for a long time. I look from my hand to the paintings and back again. With the shock and adrenaline wearing off I sway on my feet. Cynthia catches my elbow as I start to fall, and come crashing back to reality.  

“Come on, we need to get out of here,” she states in a monotone and tugs me up the way she came. Once outside we walked back to her car. Cyn opens my door and puts me in the passenger seat. It isn’t until we are  almost to my house that Cynthia breaks the silence.

“I'm sorry, Kati, I shouldn't have dared you do that, you could have broken a leg or something. I would never live with myself if you got hurt.” Ever since we were little, Cynthia has always been the more daring one, always the first to do something and daring me to do it, too.

I don’t know what to say, so I just give her a half smile and a playful shoulder punch.

“I love you, too, Cyn,” I say,as I get out of the car and walk into my house.

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