The Death Sentence

Introduction

This story was written in response to my Professor’s writing prompt which asked me to write a flash piece about going back in time for two minutes. I chose to write it as a CNF piece about what I would do if I were sent back in time!

Thanks for reading and, as always, happy writing!

The Death Sentence

I don’t think it would come on suddenly, but rather, like a breeze on an otherwise still day. I’d be walking, perhaps to class, perhaps to my house, perhaps walking just to walk—as I sometimes do—and the streets would waver. They’d shift the way they do on ninety-seven-degree days when you can see the heat filtering up through the city like a spirit.

I would find everything draining into the color brown. Not chocolate brown, but sand brown. That dusty, colorless sort of brown that leaves you feeling deflated, or like you’re watching an old-timey western movie.

Perhaps I’d drop by backpack, or purse, or phone and look around aghast. Blinking as the grit hit eyes.

I’d see the colosseum in the distance, but not the old, broken version we know now. One that stands tall with arches still intact, and perhaps cheering crowds roaring from the filled seats that I could hear from even a mile away.

The homes around me would be short and stout, unlike modern cities with towering skyscrapers and shiny metal exoskeletons. The homes here would be dusty, made of some stone that looks light—perhaps limestone—or a sundried brick. They would stack themselves together in a way that made them look as ancient as they were, though they aren’t ancient here. And strangely enough, there would be clothes hanging from lines outside of them in the way I sometimes do in my own backyard on sunny days.

Then perhaps I’d jump, hearing the marching of metal-shod feet and seeing, in the distance, gleaming helmets of iron. I’d see flashes of red amongst the guards and know those spears they carried were meant for weeding out someone like me. I would grab the cross pendant from my neck, ripping it free and plunging into an alley beside me.

And there, I would see a fish drawn in sand on the dirt-covered street, where one of my brothers or sisters had made a dangerous plea with their woven sandal.

I would press my fingers into the dirt and feel the sudden and very real fear of being hunted. One that’s no longer simply an anxiety, but from a rooted place that’s settled itself inside me, tearing anew the fears I’ve held in my heart for so long.

Perhaps I would peer down at the cross necklace in my hand, praying for safety in a way I’ve never had to before, and then the world would shimmer again. I would thank God when I got back, knowing that two minutes in that place could return me to the Father I’ve so loved.

Conclusion

Thanks for reading, and if you get the chance, try writing out your own time-travel story. If you post it, I’ll give it a read!