Sandcastle for Pegasus by Bob Avey

Author:Bob Avey [Avey, Bob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2021-08-11T22:00:00+00:00

. . .

Martin’s world resolidified into the warm and familiar setting of his childhood bedroom. Instinctively, he checked his watch. At eight years old, he had worn a wristwatch, not that he would need it to check the time. Several clocks decorated his bedroom walls, and each one of them, as did his wristwatch, read 6:00 p.m. He had the rest of the evening and one good day to get to Williamsburg. Not much time. The clocks were not a surprise, but the significance of them did not strike him until now, as he once again sat in his bedroom and admired the timepieces. He had always been fascinated with time, and now he was literally a part of it.

He quickly threw up the mental wall, though young Martin, as perceptive as ever, had already sensed something wasn’t quite right. He jumped off the bed to dash into the living room, where his parents would be watching television.

The older Martin caught himself before he could leave the room with subtle but reassuring thoughts of everything being okay, and that it was just some stray thoughts he had not yet learned to deal with.

Martin once again sat on the edge of his bed. He wasn’t hungry, so he must have just finished dinner. When his younger self settled down, he rose from the bed and inspected the small room, remembering some things he saw, a couple of model cars and a model of the bones of a Brontosaurus. He’d painstakingly glued the plastic bones together when he was around six years old.

But he wasn’t there to reminisce about his childhood, though admittedly the thought was pleasing. He was there to find Doctor Stewart and talk to him. The trouble was, how was an eight-year-old kid going to get from his home in Tulsa, Oklahoma, to a college in the state of Virginia? He studied his small hands and spindly legs. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be so small. What he’d surely thought extremely difficult before now seemed nearly impossible.

He had no wallet, so he checked his pockets and found a grand total of seventy-five cents. Even with 1991 prices, he wouldn’t get very far on that.

A knock sounded on the door, followed by his mother’s voice. “Are you all right, dear? It’s not like you to sit in your room like that. Why don’t you come out and join us?”

A swarm of emotions invaded Martin’s senses. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to panic or break into a happy dance. One thing was for sure. He had to answer. “Okay, Mom. Be right there.”

Now what, Martin?

No matter how happy he was to hear his mother’s voice, he had to be careful. Something could go crazily wrong. He opened the door a crack, but when he saw her there—the younger version of his mom, not the ghostly one that had looked unreal in the casket—tears he could not hold back leaked from his eyes.

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