Out of Time

“Now I’m sure you’ve gone crazy.”

They were both standing in the middle of a poorly lighted attic room, looking at a chaotic array of papers, notes, and images hanging from a brick wall. Old and faded photographs, newly printed satellite pictures, torn pages, and unintelligible, handwritten scraps were fused into a senseless mass. At least, senseless to anyone but him.

She waited for him to protest, or to ramble on again. He said nothing. His eyes were fixed on his cryptic creation. Luna looked at him, concerned for his friend and his recent lifestyle. She had noticed the state of the room as soon as they had come through the door. Clothes and food leftovers were scattered everywhere, heavy curtains blocked the light, she could almost be sure that a dead animal laid in some corner by the smell of the place.

His voice had sounded very alarmed and urgent when he had called her last night, but then again, he was always somewhat overdramatic. But something like this…

Luna shook her head slightly, fighting the growing sensation of anxiety.

“I think I am,” he said. “Crazy, I mean. I know this is complicated, but I swear I’m not making this up.”

“No, Arthur,” she replied quickly. That had been the wrong thing to say. “I didn’t mean it like that. You are not crazy, It’s just…” She didn’t know how to say it. Crazy was exactly what she was thinking, but she worried about him. It was certainly not the best she could have said. “What I mean,” she continued, “is that this, all this, is not possible.”

He turned to look at her. Arthur, who she had once considered to be the most brilliant man she had ever known, looked like hell. Even if you were to ignore the dark circle under his bloodshot eyes, the crumbles of food on his wild beard, and the rapidly growing strands of grey on his hair, there was something distinctly wrong. He is not here, Luna thought to herself, his mind is somewhere else.

“Arthur, when was the last time you slept?” she asked.

To her surprise, he smiled. “That’s what I have been trying to explain. I was there! It was not a dream! When I came back, it was like I never left. And I have been trying to go back but it just won’t happen. Maybe if I—”

“No, Arthur, when?” she demanded.

“I haven’t, all right?” he answered. “But not for lack of trying.” He turned and looked at the pictures on the wall. “You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t know,” she told him. “It is not that easy.” Luna sighed. How could she help his friend? “Let’s say I believe you. That it did happen, and it was real. That you…” she fumbled for words, hoping he would say it. She did not think she could say the words and make it sound believable.”

He looked at her very seriously. “Say it.” A moment passed as they stared at each other, neither comfortable with the silence. For a moment, his stare was just like she remembered it, and his eyes glinted with excitement.

“That you time traveled.”

Luna listened to his story once more, actively trying to believe him. For as long as she had known him, Arthur had always been obsessed with medieval history. He knew every story, every poem, every important event, real or otherwise. He had always wanted to live in the fantasy he had created out of myths and half-truths of medieval life. Knowing all this, it was only harder to believe he timed travel to medieval England three days ago.

She looked at the collage of images again. Most of them were from famous places and medieval landmarks. Luna started to see the connection between them, as Arthur continued to explain his ‘evidence’. There was a strange footprint in the middle of an archeological site that looked strangely like one form a Nike running shoe. Another photograph was from some strange symbols carved of the wall of a castle, which could be the carved initials ‘A.M.’—though it looked more like ‘A. N.’ or ‘M.I.’ to her. The rest of the photographs were more of the same. For some reason, the old portrait of a very pregnant queen was never directly addressed by Arthur, and she did not ask.

“So. You still think I’m crazy?” he asked her.

She did.

“No!” said Luna. “But it is a lot to take in. I think I need a drink.” She got up from the place where they had been sitting for hours. She walked to the small fridge, without much hope of finding anything. To her surprise, two beers were waiting for her. She took one. “While I think, you should really take a shower.”

He started to protest, but a glance at his reflection o the TV was enough to stop him. After some insisting, he did as he was told.

Luna stood alone in the attic, her head spinning with his friend’s story. She finished her beer and began to open all curtains and windows. The fresh air was welcomed, and the stagnant atmosphere slowly drained away. While she worked to bring some order to the chaotic room, her head went over the stories of knights, kings, queens, and quests they had loved as children. Arthur had always played the role of his namesake, while she was one of his graceful knights, or princess, or both. She, however, had grown out of the fantasy. Arthur did not. He had remained faithful to the charm of medieval times.

And now he went and lived his fantasy, she thought. What am I going to do with him? She could take him to a doctor, but he would never forgive her. Should she just play along?

It would be best, she decided, to try and help him see the absurdity of this by himself. It must have been just a very weird dream, combined with stress and anxiety.

She was about to open the second beer when she saw something different on the wall. She was suddenly cold. Luna walked to the other end of the attic and stopped just in front of the collage. There was a hidden photograph amidst the mess of papers and images. She took the photograph and pulled it loose. Several others fell to the floor, but she didn’t notice.

The photo was dated October 1956 and showed a decaying castle from the perspective of what appeared to be the front gate. The courtyard was almost empty, marked by the crumbling stone structures and the missing details that would have long faded away. The castle was mostly recognizable, but it was a detail in the lower corner that had caught her attention.

The photograph had been completely hidden, except for that small part. There, over a small table, was an open chest. Inside, although it was hard to see the details, was a necklace. The smooth stone was shaped like a crescent moon and the silver chain reset next to it. Luna raised a trembling hand to her neck.

“What is it?” Arthur asked, and she let out a surprised scream. Her heart was racing.

“Don’t scare me like that!” she protested. “This is all too weird, that’s all.”

“On that, we agree,” he said. “But on the rest… have you decided?”

“What do you mean?” she asked. He moved to the chair where he had been sitting before. She followed him and, almost unconsciously, slipped the picture into her back pocket.

“Have you decided to take me to a mental hospital, or to just lie and hope I forget about it?”

She thought he was joking, but he looked at her as serious as she had ever seen him. Now that he had showered, changed his clothes, and there was light coming through the windows he looked much better. Almost normal. But his eyes were tired, as dark and dull as an old man’s.

“I know you don’t believe me. Didn’t think you would, to be honest. But I had to tell someone before I completely lost it.”

“I don’t know. I mean,” she fumbled for words, but was too shaken and confused to answer. “I don’t know what to believe. But I don’t think you need a hospital if that’s any relief.”

“I guess it’s something.” Arthur nodded to himself. “What do we do now?”

“Now, I think, we try to get some sleep.”

They talked a little longer, but neither felt like chatting. They agreed to let the matter rest for the night, and maybe meet again the next day. When Luna left the attic, the sky was a deep, dark shade of blue. The moon was barely a trace of silver in the night.

She walked home. The streets were mostly empty, all shops were closed by now and all bars were full. Her house was only a few minutes away. As she walked, her mind raced through Arthur’s story over, and over, and over again. Her hand rested unconsciously over her chest, feeling the rapid beating of her heart and the smoothness of her moon-shaped necklace.

The sudden gust of wind brought her back to reality, only to find she had wandered into an alley. She began to walk to the main street when she heard a deep hoot. Luna turned. There was nothing there. She waited for a moment. Nothing.

She took a step forward. Hoo. She looked up, to a nearby ledge. A large owl was sitting there. Watching her. Hooooo, it hooted. She took a step back. The owl suddenly propelled forward and towards her. It raised its large wings and she felt a chill run down her back. Luna closed her eyes.

She waited for the crash, but it never came. Still afraid to look, she listened. There was nothing. She let her breath out slowly once, then a second time. The air was somehow colder and lighter, with the smell of old leaves. She opened her eyes.

She stood in the middle of a clearing, soft earth beneath her feet, surrounded by a half-circle of stone columns and arches. In front of her, an owl watched her from the branch of a tall tree. She looked around. She was confused, anxious, scared. In front of the opening of the stone structure, a path flowed through the trees. Like in a dream, her head clouded and unable to focus, she followed it. It led her through the trees and bushes to the edge of the forest. There she stopped, unable to believe what was in front of her.

In the distance, above a low hill, there was a castle. And although it was well kept, lighted by the moon and the fire of many torches, and completely within its time, she recognized it, as it would be later be captured in a very old photograph.