Excerpt: Cecelia's Adventures in Time: The Encounter in England

Cecelia had the house to herself. Her mother was on a trip to San Francisco to promote her newest novel, and her father was in Portland for the weekend on a business trip of some sort. There was money for ordering pizza, and Mrs. Sexton, the kind but generally unexciting neigbour lady across the street had a house key and was expected to drop by to check on Cecelia every day. Other than that, however, Cecelia was home free.

She stood in the main hallway - which allowed her to view the hall that led to her bedroom, the living room, and the kitchen all at once - and evaluated her options.

The Fridge smiled sweetly. “Come on, honey pie.” said the Fridge, in a voice that reminded Cecelia of a kind black grandmother from the south who loved to feed you cookies, “Let’s grab a snack.”

The Big Screen Television - the B.S. as Cecelia liked to abbreviate it as - gave her a second sweet smile. “Cecccccelia,” said the B.S., who sounded like a snake, drawling and stretching out his ‘S‘ sounds, “You’re favourite programme iss on. Let’ss kick back and watch it! There’ss alssssso a great movie on tonight. Wouldn’t some popcorn and a film be a great way to sssssssspend the evening?”

Cecelia smiled as she thought of this prospect. It sounded inviting.

Her books called from her bedroom, and their voices sounded like pleasant little gnomes. “Cee-cee!” they cried. “Read us! We’re bored!”

The Ping Pong Table, who was Scottish for some reason, harped at her from the basement. “Come on, Lassie! Cain’t get bettah at the ole’ tay-ble tennis wif’oota little practise!”

The Video Games yelled in muffled voices from the storage bin. “COME ON! YOUR CHARMANDER IS ALMOST A LEVEL UP! AND YOU’RE NEARLY TO CERULEAN CITY!”

Cecelia shook her head, pressing her fists to the side of her head to block out all the voices. Finally she couldn’t take it anymore. “SHUT UP!” she told them all. “JUST BE QUIET FOR A SECOND!”

The various objects fell silent. “Let me figure out for myself what I want to do!” she said defensively. “I don’t need your help to decide. You’re all just confusing me.”

It was true. Cecelia was pulled in so many directions. All of the activities sounded like a great way to spend her evening. However, in the back of her mind, she knew that eating snacks and watching T.V. all night probably wasn’t the best choice, although it was okay once in a while.

Cecelia sat down in the middle of the hardwood floor, right in the center of her house.

Many times, Cecelia had been left alone by herself for the weekend. She was always surprised when she found out that it was Sunday night and her father had returned, she had felt like the weekend had flown by. On Fridays after school, Cecelia made plans for what she was going to accomplish during the weekend. Often she made a list, like as follows:

Cecelia’s Plans for the Weekend
1. Read three chapters of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
2. Read two chapters of Crime and Punishment
3. Read the entire chapter in history textbook about ancient Egypt, not just the assigned pages.
4. Write a beautiful poem about what the weather would be like on another planet.
5. Read Mr. Fawkes’ assigned book, The Awakening
6. Do maths homework for school
7. Read the next chapter in science textbook to be prepared for Monday
8. Visit Mr. Fawkes (Sunday Morning)

Then she would try to do everything on her list in the weekend. Unfortunately, however, she usually found that a great deal of her time had been wasted on the weekends. By some miraculous black hole in time, she found herself on Sunday nights having accomplished little more than her visit to Mr. Fawkes, but a great deal of television was watched, or perhaps several levels of a video game had been beaten. Cecelia could not understand how her time had been eaten up so easily, when she had simply decided to watch ‘just a few programmes‘, or else play ‘only a few levels’.

It is here where our story begins. Sort of.

For Cecelia, one weekend, sat alone in her house, in the middle of the hard wood floor, wondering whether this weekend would go by just as quickly as all the others, with little to no real intellectual accomplishments or stimulation to show for it. She began to think about why the weekends went by so fast when she wasted her time eating snacks and sitting on the sofa watching movies or playing video games, yet went by at an incredibly convenient pace when she was being productive, reading and writing and learning about all the things that fascinated her.

She decided that it wasn’t actually the time that went faster, but her own mind simply made it feel that way.

“It’s not really time that goes faster,” she told the appliances who had been beckoning to her, “it’s my own mind simply making it feel that way.”

The Fridge, the Big Screen, and the Ping Pong Table agreed. (The Video Games had fallen asleep, and the Books were reading each other.)

Then a mysterious feeling took over Cecelia. It started at the top of her head; a tingly sensation that moved down her neck and prickled the hairs there, then traveled down to her spine, all the way through her arms and legs, until her whole body felt alive with electricity.

“I wonder…..” she said aloud. “Whether it would be possible to-” she stopped. “No, what a silly idea!”