Across Time: A Collection of Short Stories

Across Time

Strange animals roar around me. I back away. They look a little like pigs with their round snouts, but they move like no other creature I've ever seen. These new animals roll around as if on balls. I run from them across the paths they roll over. These paths feel porous and rocky under my bare feet. The animals honk at me, slamming to a stop.

Panting, I reach the grass. Palm trees and huge houses surround me—these houses aren't on stilts, nor are they made of thatch. I've never seen such an enormous village. In the sky, a gigantic bird that doesn't flap its wings flies overhead. It leaves a trail like a long cloud.

People walk by me on a smaller path. Something familiar. Yet they talk in a way I don't understand. Some of the words they say sound like words I know. Most don't. They dress in funny skirts, not like the grass ones my people wear. These people glance at me before hurrying on.

"Where am I?" I ask, stopping one of them. He shakes his head and says something. But what? "Where am I?" I repeat. Shrugging his shoulders, he continues on. I stamp my foot. How did I get here? How do I get back?

Someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around. The wind catches strands of her wavy, black hair. Her face is flat and smooth like a shard of pottery, her black eyes sharp as flint. Her voice rises. My eyebrows furrow. She points at herself. "Anone," she says. "I'm Anone." A thrill runs down my back. I can understand her.

"What village is this? What animals are those?" I ask, pointing at the rolling animals and the trail of the bird.

She laughs. "This isn't a village; it's a city. A really big village with lots of people. The name of this city is Apia, in Samoa; that's the island we live on. Those aren't animals. The thing in the sky is an airplane; it carries cargo or people and can fly because the air moves faster over its wings than under its wings. Those over there, on the road," she motions to the rolling animals, "are cars. People sit behind the wheels inside and drive them around."

My head aches. "What's a wheel?"

"A circle attached to an axis so that it can spin around," Anone explains, turning her hands in the air.

"Car." "Airplane." "City." "Wheel." "Road."

"What are those people wearing? What are they saying?" I turn towards the people moving non-stop down the path.

"They wear pants." My new companion nods towards the tubes encasing their legs. "Shirts." The strange things draped over their torsos. "Shoes." The boat-like objects strapped to their feet. "And they speak Samoan, one of the official languages here."

My head tilts. "Why can I understand you but not them?"

Anone pauses, checking something strapped to her wrist. I lean over her shoulder. Hands move in a circle around its face, and what looks like planets rim its outer edge. "A watch," she smiles, noticing me. "We say that you speak a proto-Austronesian language; learned it out of interest. Well, I have somewhere to go. If you want, you can come back to my place with me."

Anone and I step into her house. "I'll be right back," she tells me. On the wall, something ticks. Like her watch, it has a face and hands, yet it also has strange symbols around the edge, not like those planets. Inside a box connected to the face, a sticks swings back and forth. Something else rests in the hole in the wall. I walk over. It's circular, with an arm casting a shadow over its face. Next to it, a tube filled with sand drains slowly. What are they?

Anone carries an armful of clothes and a bag over her shoulder. She sets the bag down. My eyebrows knit together. "A backpack," she explains. "I carry it to school and keep books in it." Thrusting the clothes at me, she pulls a square object from her bag. The inside looks made of bark. Strange symbols line up in rows on the bark.