A Victorian Tale: A Puppet Masters' of Time Novel

2. Where a rescue does not go to plan...

As if the fog wasn't bad enough, a rain suddenly came down upon their heads, so when a doorway came in sight and she turned the door open, they were relieved to be out of the rain. But as Calliope looked around her, the fear began to seep into her bones once more, just like the cold water. This place was not her home, but it felt familiar...like she'd been there before but a long time ago.

The man pointed down a lighted passageway of the ruins, and she took him down it, trying to fight the curiosity that was pulling her forward and following his directions through the maze of corridors until they came to a door that was wide open into a room that looked nothing like the ruins on the other side. The young man waddled in, looking around a cupboard on the far side of the room as if he knew exactly what he was looking for. And it seemed he did as he lifted from a shelf a small metal box not much bigger than his forearm. He limped over to a table laden with all sorts of devices. Curiosity invaded Calliope's mind. As she looked up, wonder twinkled in her eyes as she viewed the larger cathedral ceiling above her, and the dirigible that floated above their heads.

"Aren't you afraid that thing will fall upon your head and crush you to death?"

The man didn't even glance at her as he sat himself wincing upon a stool beside the table with the inventions and the no longer curious box in the room of wonders that surrounded her.

"I invented that thing, and know full well that it will not fall down upon my head. Even if it does begin to lose altitude, it has safety protocols installed for when there is a case when there is no pilot steering it."

Calliope nodded as if she understood. Even though she didn't, she still gazed at the light fixtures lining the walls, and the strange contraptions on the long tables against them.

"Did... did you make everything else here?" She waved her arms around her, twirling around her sodden skirts, heavily flopping around with the movement.

The man nodded, and much to Calliope's embarrassment began to strip his bloody, wet shirt... hissing between his teeth as the cloth still clung to his wound as he peeled it off.

Calliope blushed as she turned away from the half-naked man, trying to think of something to say to think about other than the man's chest. She had never seen a man's chest before, not even her father when they went on adventures when she was young; like swimming in the lake or fishing.

The door that led back out into the ruins stared back at her. It was so familiar to her. Its cogs and wheels are rusty, seemingly from no use, the brackets supporting the cogs looking as if they hadn't moved in hundreds of years. A flash of memory came upon her suddenly, of her looking up at the door, and it seemed much larger.

She moved towards it and as she held her hand out to the door; it shocked her just like when she had touched the man...a shiver ran down her spine as her memories from that time started rushing back to her.

She was five then, a stubborn, carefree child left to roam the gardens because the numerous nursemaids could not keep her contained within her parents' estate. She had happened upon the ruins. She remembered running excitedly down the hallways, peeking into every room she could find. Calliope cocked her head in memory. She must have spent hours running around the vast ruins when she came upon the door her older self stood before now. The door opened to her hand because she had a key in her hand...but not any key... Calliope raised a hand to the chain around her neck that she had worn since before she could remember, a chain with a beautiful intricate key at the end of it. How did I come upon such a key? Why can't I remember? I've had this key for so long...

Calliope looked around her, at the vast room surrounding her, "It's a different room." She wrinkled her eyebrows in consternation. "But how is that even possible..." looking upwards at the floating airship above their heads she had only read in novels, "how is any of this possible?"

The man's voice abruptly ruptured her thoughts with its roughness. "You are going to have to sew up the wound."

"What!" Calliope bit her lip, "Why me?"

"Do you see anyone else around here with any other capable hands?" His words had a biting edge to them, but deep down she knew she had no right to judge since her daydreaming had only caused him to have to endure more pain. She suddenly felt increasingly guilty as she looked at his grimace of pain and his shaking hands, that now he didn't even try to stop.

"I already sterilized the needle, as well as the wound. All you have to do is sew it up." He eyed her as she crept forward, "I'm sure a well-mannered lady as yourself does indeed know how to sew."

"Indeed, I do." Calliope stepped up, viewing the gash across his side onto part of his back worriedly. "I'll do it." Looking around for something to clean her hands with, "I should probably have clean hands..." Before she had even finished speaking, he had already grabbed them and rubbed them clean from the muck from the lake.

"No more excuses. The sooner you get it done, the better."

"Ok." Her voice came out barely as a whisper. It's just a rip. You are a good dreamer Calliope. Just make believe it's a ripped cloth ready to be stitched up, made better. After threading the needle she began as carefully as she could. It's so big, this is not going to work. Stop it and focus. In and out, weave the needle through the wound, with the rhythm of your breaths. Stay calm. Breathe in and out, weave carefully...don't think about what's in the tear, just focus on repairing it. That's it, you are doing it.

The man watched as the young woman sat beside him, weaving his wound back together. The look on her face was a bit comical, with her eyes scrunched together and her front teeth biting her lower lip. If he weren't in absolute pain he would have laughed.

"Don't forget to leave some space between stitches just in case of swelling." He felt a bit of pity for her as he noticed she had lost some of her concentration with his comment, and she blanched a bit. "Look up at me for a moment." She shook her head, afraid that if she did, the floor would swallow her whole, so instead he tilted her head up. "Remember to breathe." He watched her bottom lip quiver and her eyes tried desperately to fight off the overwhelming panic that had started to creep in. "You were doing good for a while there...do whatever you had been doing, and just remember the small gaps between stitches while you are doing it." She nodded, pursing her lips in concentration, "and don't forget to breathe." he whispered to her bowed head, focused on the task ahead of her.

He hadn't realized how much the concern for her had distracted himself from his own pain, and his own problems. He glanced over at the timepiece above the portal's door, relieved at once when he realized that as long as she finished up in the next ten minutes, he would surely be able to get her back to her world before the portal closed. He didn't know when he'd be able to open it again. After all, it was mere chance and good timing that he was able to open it this time years after he discovered the key to unlock it. He allowed himself to slip into the memory of the discovery, as his brain desperately wanted to get away from the blaring obviousness of the fact that the young woman before him had no idea what she was doing.