After an unexplainable accident Annabelle finds herself hundred years in the past. In the boom of the 1920s, the era of Jazz and bootleggers. But it's not just the 20s she now has to deal with, she also happens to find herself stumble right into the...
I never gave much thought to the afterlife. Whenever I thought of dying, all I imagined was darkness. As if somebody turned off the light. Not really believing in a god of some sort either, my image of heaven and hell was based on the paintings from one of the many art exhibitions I used to visit.
Whenever people asked me if I believed in any kind of higher power, I told them, all I believe in, was Karma. And I do, I really do.
After all it was probably karma that brought me into this situation. No other explanation came to mind in that moment.
The one second I was in the middle of Oxfords busy streets, the next second I was gone. All I remembered was that heavy impact in the middle of my back and then looking down to see a metal pole sticking out of my stomach. Then, with a taste of having a mouth full of pennies, everything went dark.
But only for a moment.
Then it suddenly felt like I was deep underwater, drowning, no air in my lungs whatsoever, but as soon as I opened my eyes, I broke through the water surface and greedily filled my lungs with air, coughing from the sudden action.
Instantly my hands went to my stomach, expecting to feel a metal pole, a hole, a bandage or something, but certainly not nothing.
Not realising that I held my breath I let out a relieved laughter.
It was all just a bad dream. I sighed and turned to my side to snuggle into the many pillows on my bed, just for my hand to hit a cold stone wall, not finding any pillows. Confused I opened my eyes and infact faced a creme coloured wallpaper with flower prints. And also my sheets weren't their usual blue colour, they were brown.
In a matter of seconds panic rose up inside of me and I turned around just to face an unknown room.
"What the fuck.."
I said quietly to myself, while getting out of the small bed.
"What the fuck."
I repeated the single thought crossing my mind out loud again.
The room had wooden floor, a wooden brown desk in the one corner, next to a window and a large mirror in the other one, together with a dresser and chair next to the bed I was laying in just a few seconds ago.
"No no no no, where the fuck am I?"
I asked myself, still panicking. As I looked down on myself I saw that I was still wearing what I wore whenever I passed out. At least I wasn't naked.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, as I made my way over to the desk, since it had some paper on it. Including something that looked like a newspaper. Hoping to find out the date and location of where the hell I was, I grabbed it and looked at the main headline.
THE BIRMINGHAM NEWS 20th January 1919
A few seconds, probably a minute or two passed and I was still looking at the paper in my hands. Not sure if somebody was simply playing a prank on me right now or if I was kidnapped and the owner of the place liked collecting 100 years old newspaper.
I can't be in Birmingham. I am in Oxford. This is just a bad dream. As soon as I wake up I'll slam my alarm against the wall and rush to the university.
Fuck.
Uni.
No no no I can't be in Birmingham, I'll miss my classes, I can't miss my classes, I will- My flow of thoughts was interrupted by a loud noise from outside the window, which automatically led my gaze down to the streets.
Cobblestones and Horses.
People were wearing hats, women in long skirts and blouses and most men were wearing suits. My mind went blank as my gaze slowly drifted back to the date of the newspaper.
No.
"Ohohoho no. No this is not possible. I am dreaming. Am I high? Fuck this can't be real, wake up Belle, you're dreaming, OUCH-"
My rambling got stopped by me running into the bedpost, hitting my little toe. Tears stung in my eyes as I was biting down on my lip and holding my foot. After some time I wasn't sure anymore if I was crying because of the sharp pain in my foot or because of how helplessly confused I felt.
Everything in my body resisted accepting the idea of me being in the 1920s, it was sheer impossible, at the same time my brain struggled with finding another possible explanation as for what was going on.
Was this really happening?
A few hours went by, while I was busy breaking my mind over the question if there was a logical explanation for what is happening.
Did I go fully bonkers? Was I maybe just dreaming very vividly? Will I ever be able to go back home? Why me? One side of me wanted to keep thinking about the matter until I maybe found a satisfying explanation, the other side, my realistic side, took in the facts on hand.
Through an unexplainable accident I woke up in the 1920s, in Birmingham, one of the most dangerous cities back then.
I almost felt stupid for admitting that a small part of myself was even exited, since I've always had a fascination for the era of Jazz and basically studied BBC's "Peaky Blinders"
My common sense told me that it was foolish to even think about meeting any of the show characters, while my inner fangirl almost jumped at the opportunity.
The more and more I thought about the possibilities I had with my knowledge of the future the more I got exited, but also anxious.
Equality is barely common interest, medicine is far from modern and world war one just ended. In about 10 years the stock market in New York City will crash and the great depression will start. In exactly 20years Germany will invade Poland and another gruesome world war will start.
And still I couldn't stop myself from thinking about experiencing something this exiting.
