Imagines with Ben Fankhauser (REQUESTS OPEN AND REALLY NEEDED!)

The Trolley Port(al)

authors note: Happy new year! This story is dedicated to @1273Luna1273, I hope you enjoy it! Also, i researched the dates of just about every item to make sure i was historically accurate. Did you know the first electric street lamp was introduced to new york in 1880? Yeah, take that one in. And finally, some backround. If you see any italics in my story, its some information so that you arent confused. I realized while writing that not all of you may understand what im going for in the chapter. And the reader is written as nonbinary so im avoiding pronouns and trying to use they/them/their more often. Okay ENJOY!

Daveys POV

About 6:30, I had finally finished selling my papes and was ready to hit the road with Les. The sun was beginning to set and the street lamps were lighting up. Their soft yellow glow was just enough to light the tree covered sidewalk Les and I were to travel down. Mother had made a wonderful roast chicken with carrots and peas fresh from the garden. We knew this was our big meal for the week as only Les and I were pulling in the family income.

"You boys go thank Mr.Oliver tomorrow morning, you hear? He cut 10 cents off of the price for this chicken just for us."

"Yes mother." Les and I spoke simultaneously while he shoved a hunk of the meat in his mouth.

"Lesley, please! Don't speak with your mouthful! And for christs sake use your manners!" Our father raised his voice very seldom before the accident, but nearly everything made him upset nowadays.

"The meal was delicious mother, thank you. May I be excused now?" I folded the red napking over my now empty plate as I scooted my chair back from the table.

"I suppose so, and you too, Les. You boys should be getting to bed soon."

"Yes mother."
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I waited until I was sure Les was asleep before climbing out of my bed. He was a heavy sleeper so I was not too concerned with the creaking of floorboards and such. I raised the window of our second story window, latched on to the fire escape, and was on my way. I left the window slightly cracked so that I could return without anyone noticing my absense, feeling slightly sorry for my brother with the cold air drifting in our room.

The dimly lit streets were anything but noisy at this time of night. Most everyone but myself had gone to bed for either school or work in the morning, and perhaps I should have been as well. Any who, I strolled along the barren streets of the city and found myself back at the old trolley station. This part of the city had no traffic, and the station may have well been a ghost town. The forest green broken down trolley always provided me with a sense of comfort as I attempted to escape my realities. I felt around under the seat for the guitar I had picked up behind the school dumpster months ago. I tuned the two unbroken strings, played around with a melody or two, and went to switch seats. I was almost at maximum comfort on the beaten up leather, just another inch over and-

What. In. The. World. Everything around me was gone. I found myself sitting on plush grass, only the clothes on my back and my broken guitar remained. I have no clue where I have landed, or how I got here, but I'm utterly mesmerized. I looked around to find houses, rooms still lit with bright white lights. Not many of the houses had chimneys with smoke being released, a confusing concept considering its the dead winter. No frost or even fog lined the windows either.

(Backround: the trolley station/port that Davey hung out at was converted into a neighborhood in the 21st century.)