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- Herausgeber: Stephanie Flynn
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
A grieving widower investigates the old abandoned building where the fateful accident happened ten years ago. When Dylan falls back through time, can he convince his wife to give him the second chance he doesn't deserve?
This is a standalone time travel romance short story.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
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One Crazy Time
A Time Travel Romance Short Story
STEPHANIE FLYNN
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 Stephanie Flynn
All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author Stephanie Flynn, subject line "Attention: Permission Request," at the address below.
First edition
Cover design by Stephanie Flynn
ISBN ebook:978-1-952372-23-0
Table of Contents
One Crazy Time
About the Author
One Crazy Time
Fallen plaster crunched under his muddy sneakers. Debris dangled from worn walls, and whistles of a mysterious breeze tickled his arms. Dylan Fredrickson didn't worry about getting caught. He’d broken into much riskier locations for the sake of art. As a freelance photojournalist, the ambiance of this old mental institution was perfect for his newest project—breathing life back into the forgotten past.
Danver's Hospital especially intrigued him, because this was where his wife died ten years ago, a beauty with years of life still yearning to be spent, the woman he promised he’d love forever. Not a day goes by that he didn’t think of her. A photo, capturing her brilliant glow, full of dreams and ambition, remained neatly tucked into his wallet, creased from frequent viewings.
A tipped over chair blocked the hall, and to his trained eye, this was a fantastic angle. Dylan leaned back on his haunches, and positioning the lens artistically over the chair, he set the shutter speed on his DSLR camera and snapped a satisfying image. For a moment he pictured his wife's beaming smile and wished she were in the photo—a ridiculous thought, because if she were here, he wouldn’t be. After years of reflection, Dylan realized he wasn’t the best husband. Even if he could turn back time and get a second chance, he knew he didn’t deserve it. Dylan checked the stored image in his camera's memory. It mirrored the photo safeguarded in his wallet, except now Clara was missing, and his battered heart freshly tore again.
On their wedding day, she'd held back tears of happiness. She'd waved her hands in front of her face, worrying about her makeup. Fully raccooned or not, she was still as radiant as ever in her miles of shimmering white and soft lace. Dylan had given her vows that he meant, but even now, he still couldn’t accept 'till death do us part'.
The reports failed to describe the exact location where the accident happened. Was the information superfluous, or did someone want to cover up a stain on the hospital's legacy? There was no finding out any longer. Dylan had tried.
Clara wasn't the only one who'd died here, officially. But as far as he could find in the records, she was the only one who was unexpected. That abruptness and the unanswered questions still kept him up at night. Endings changed, hopes dashed, and dreams held on by a fraying thread needed to be laid to rest. Dylan wished for just one chance to tell her how much he loved her, and then he and his broken heart could sleep at night.
Glass crunched under his foot, and with a cringe, he tapped his shoe against the wall to knock off the shards. Inside a patient's room, a television screen was broken, the bed was stained, and a food tray with dishes sat collecting dust as if hopeful someone would return. No one bothered to auction off the equipment, as if they were in a hurry to leave. Dylan pressed himself up against the corner of the room and snapped a photo.
He returned to the musty the hallway. An eerie silence raised the hairs on his arms, but Dylan wasn't yielding. Whispers of voices swirled around him, as if warning him away, but he kept going. On his left was a door marked as restricted access.
