Excerpt: Time Slips

Excerpt from Chapter 1
“It’s plaid.”

“Yes.”

“The Fabric of Time is plaid.”

“Well.... technically it’s a different color to different people. Really the Fabric of Time has no color. What we’re looking at is merely a physical manifestation of something that has no form. And as it is merely a manifestation it takes on whatever characteristics we ourselves give to it.”

Merri blinked. “What does it look like to you?”

“Plaid.”

“Right,” she said, quirking an eyebrow at her partner. “What color plaid?”

Joel cocked his head at the Fabric of Time. “Sort of a blueish with big green lines alternating with the small yellow- Look, it really doesn’t matter what you see.”

“Hmm. Mine’s kind of purplish with some red bits.”

Excerpt from Chapter 3
“What is that?”

They were close now, to the bottom hem of the Fabric of Time. Together they leaned close to peer at the flashing thing. In a sudden movement is sprang to life and descended downward through the Fabric, ripping open a hole as it sliced. Joel jumped back. Meri grabbed his arm in a startled gesture. The blade that had been glinting in the sunlight a moment before disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, seemingly from behind the Fabric.

“What the!” Meri began in surpise. She looked incredulously at the gaping hole that had been cut in front of them. “Did someone just CUT through the Fabric of TIme?”

As if on impulse she reached out a hand to take one of the edges of the sliced Fabric. Seeing what she was about to do Joel let out a little cry of warning and made a grab for Meri’s upraised hand. He caught her wrist just as a gust of wind blew across the taut Fabric and rippled along it. The Fabric billowed for a moment outwards. Before they knew what was happening Meri and Joel were pulled through the hole in the Fabric of Time.

Excerpt from Chapter 4
“Hipskipple Ticker-tock,” said the whisper again. At Hipskipple’s silence the whisper took up the name as a mantra, repeating it again and again.

“Stop it,” Hipskipple shouted when he could stand it no longer. His name lost all meaning and became a pleasant melody of sound. He waved his arms wildly at the vague figure. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

But the whisper persisted. The mustache was strangely silent and unagitated. It did not even give a twitch. Hipskipple threw his hands over his ears in an attempt to block his own name out of his ears.

“Hipskipple ticker-tock,” the whisper wailed in one last breathy cry. All noise died out, even the wind stopped. Slowly Hipskipple let his hands fall to his sides and opened his eyes, which he had closed against the strange gray form in the blackness. It remained, but it had not moved. Just as he blew out a sigh of relief a new sound resonated within the darkness. A dark and deep voice, quiet but not a whisper as the one before it had been. It intoned three little words which chilled Hipskipple more than any ever had.

“You have failed.”