Tangled In Time Novels & Stories

To him, time was like an interloping of threads, all related to each other and the ultimate space, and in rare, yet possible cases, it was possible to bend those threads. Threads...threads of time...it rang a bell, but I wasn't sure where I had heard it from. I closed the book and fell on the chair. Time travel? Me? For what? So I can re-live some of the worst years of my life? I held my hair in handfuls and yelled, hoping that if I yelled hard enough, some miracle will take place and take me back to the time I belong. I have already lived past this. This is not my life any more.

21st Century New York Present Time The biggest truth of our universe. An occurrence running with a constant rhythm. An entity that never gets old or young. Eternal. It is always there, watching, acknowledging, recording. A sign of the lord’s presence. His message is loud and clear, keep walking because even if you stop time won’t. It will run with the same cadence as it was running eons ago. The most valuable contrivance of a man’s life. Seasons will come and go but the time we’ve lost will never repeat. It’s like that arrow of a bow that never returns, the bitterness of a tongue which cannot be taken back.

"Stay with me, Bella i want you with me forever" I nodded, tears stinging the back of my eyes. "I’m not going anywhere." He smiled that smile again, the one that made everything else disappear and kissed me so slowly, so deeply, it felt like time stopped. We lay there for a while, tangled up together, just breathing and holding onto each other like the world outside didn’t exist. But unfortunately, reality came knocking. Scout was the first to groan. "We have to go to work." I buried my face in his chest. "I don’t want to."

Chapter 9 Most times, the most difficult moments in one's life are when you are in a dilemma to make such risky decisions. As I lay restlessly in bed all night, lost in the depths of my thoughts, I weighed the precarious odds and potential benefits of my situation. The tangled web of relationships had captured me completely. Mr. Blackwood's relentless pursuit continued incessantly, despite our familial ties. His persistence both intrigued and unsettled me, casting shadows of doubt on the affinal bond we shared.

I found myself living inside that shame. Days blurred into a string of small, awful routines: waking to Arrow’s measured steps, answering to his schedules, smiling at functions as if my lips could convince the world I was intact. At night I replayed the memory of Christian’s laugh until it faded into static. I clung to the card in my wallet like contraband, like a private map to another life. Andrew’s name on paper felt safer than his voice in my head; it was a talisman I refused to lose. But talismans don’t always protect you from the obvious. They only make the danger more bearable.

The pressure increases. Time does not like shelter. Shelter implies choice. Shelter implies delay. Delay implies the possibility of a different outcome. And time, for all its eternity, is impatient when it’s being denied cooperation. My hands remain steady as I pick up my basket. The hedge holds the crescent of iron and honey and knots as if it understands what I’m asking. It cannot stop time. But it can confuse it. It can muffle the hum. It can provide Eliza a place to stand that is not always the hearth, not always the tavern, not always a human room full of hooks.

I just needed to make sure our paths never, ever crossed again. Breathing in and out to steady my nerves, I stepped back out into the noise. “Hey there, beauty,” a slurred voice muttered as a heavy, reeking hand grabbed my wrist. I jerked my arm out of his grasp and hurried past, my heart pounding. When I reached the main room again, I saw that same brunette girl sitting directly in the lap of the dangerous stranger, both of them locked in a heavy make-out session. Good. At least he was occupied so I could make my exit. Though, I had to admit, his lips looked entirely too good for a girl like her.

“Wait-“ Just as I was about to protest, that familiar feeling of falling encompasses me. Time isn’t giving me any chance to prepare, as I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t have enough time to be angry at him, to curse at him. Slowly, I feel his hand pull away from mine, and suddenly my feet hit ground, a spike of pain travelling up through my shins to my knees. Concrete. I’ve landed at concrete. My eyes open, and I’m concealed by shadows, hidden behind some kind of table covered with boxes. It takes me a moment to get my bearings. Time is nowhere to be seen, until I lean past the table, seeing him. Except it’s not the Time from my era. This is a different immortal. Blinking a few times, my eyes

I said quietly, already feeling the wrongness pressing against my skull, “everyone here gets trapped repeating different slices of time. Forever.” Zara’s face went pale. “Cool. Love that. Hate that. Mostly hate that.” The highway trembled then jerked backward. Not physically but temporally. For half a second, the cars were pristine clean. and intact. Then they snapped back to damaged and abandoned. Then pristine again, then abandoned. “Time is skipping,” Jamal said. “No,” I said, heart racing as the pattern revealed itself. “It is overlapping.” I walked slowly toward the center of the interchange where three elevated roads crossed.

his voice echoed in my ear and I closed my eyes. Everything’s back to normal when I opened it. We are at Chris’s house, without any damage to the time machine or us. He is perfectly safe. “Finally, it’s over,” Maddy screamed in happiness. We got down from it gladly. “Do you think Alaric is dead?” I asked everyone. “No, you killed him, Stella, but we reversed the time. Whatever happened there will not affect the present, “Malcolm says. “Then will he come to us again? “I got frightened