Dreadlocks of Time

What's more powerful than love? Time, maybe. Weird way to start a story that'd be awesome. Don't worry, I will grow on you. I always do. Wait a minute! There's one more thing that I can think of that's stronger, and that is mummy's sweet smelling rum. SShhh! Don't judge me just yet. You do it, too. And just so you know, I'm writing this book totally sober.

With my white fingers returning to my laptop, I continue typing.

What if time was a "where" and not a "when", with inhabitants unknown to mortals? What if all the hands on the clock possessed life? And not in the Annabelle sense of possessed that you know. 

    What happens where time doesn't hold? What happens when tomorrow could be yesterday? What if time was a weapon of the apocalypse? After all, you never can tell when it will be deployed.

"Annabel, get over here, will you?" In confusion, the book in my hands falls to the ground as I hurry to the woman who called me. This always happen. The moment I get wrapped up in my bubble of fluent writing, she comes right in to burst that. Don't get me wrong, I love her, and I love her for it, too. In the middle of the fatigue running through my veins, I pant right in front of her. 

"What took you so long?", she said to me, wearing her "old mum- baby daughter" face.

"We all get stuck sometimes, don't we?", I replied, still a little short of breath, and she gave me that confused look on her face which looked like my "poo" face.

 I joined her in slicing the veggies on the kitchen table. I wish she'd told me this was why she called me though. She doesn't admit it much, but she really adores me and loves my company.

I cut it as fast as the word " fast" sounds in a syllable, and in just one breath, and in awe, the woman; my mother, just nodded her head with a look not too balanced on one cheek of hers. After spending a few seconds fixed on the facial expression of my mother, I ran back to my room to get back to work. 

That "work" is exactly what you'll be reading with your jaws dropped and maybe some saliva finding its way from one side of your lips. Maybe I'm kidding and that was hyperbolic, but I'd never know. You tell me.

Where were we? I stare at the laptop closely expecting to be wrapped in every word but of course, that doesn't happen.

 My phone beeps right by the side of my laptop and a message from Riley pops up. She's not a friend of mine, my mum pretty much does that for me and I'm happy about it. Her message read, "I look forward to this weekend at Denis'. Yay!!" 

Trust me, you don't want to see the look on my face right now. A thousand bucks that it beats my "poo face". I just don't see what there is to look forward to when it's just sex, most especially from a guy that constantly reminds you that you aren't loved by him, and merely another worthy bang.

 I've been distracted, yet again. 

For me to concentrate optimally, my go-to playlist always involves Tate McRae, Astrid and Sasha Sloan, and of course, a bit of Alec Benjamin. Let's get this!

Get your Mind Mollys ready because this is a trip to and through the world's most powerful force- Time. This might alter all that you know about Time as we know it, but what's the point of reading this without a paradigm shift.

I continue writing. I just lied, I'm sorry. I haven't started writing yet, except these unending ellipses count as words Humans can decrypt. Too much to say and somehow, I can't find the words. Kendrick wasn't lying. In that thought, I look to the left of my room, and before you think it's all pink walls and fangirl's posters, I will be disappointing your anticipation. 

"Stop staring at me", I say to my stuffed bear sitting right by my desk where I'm writing this very book. Looking into its black eyes capable of making Romeo overlook Juliet, I begin to get lost in thoughts I can't even seem to hold on to long enough to remember.

My room is a well-lit space with more books scattered on the floor, quite messy, more like my headspace too. Not your usual Hollywood gorgeous blonde's, right?

But the perk of being here, in this very room is that bed. Heaven just might not be in the clouds, my bed doesn't fall too far from the paradisiac descriptions.

Okay. This wasn't meant to be about me. Let's get right to it.