He said 'jump' with such force that Cheryl complied and before she could gather her thoughts she tumbled, head over heels, till she landed on her back at the feet of four people but as she landed, her arm hit a piece of jagged metal sticking out from a machine. It ripped into her arm.
"Professor, you did it," said a tall, distinguished man with a beard.
"Sir. Please let me help you," said another man dressed as a butler.
"Oh, you poor dear, your arm is bleeding," said a portly little woman in an apron and bonnet. Cheryl realised she was talking to her and her arm was bleeding. The woman extended her hand to Cheryl, asking if she could bandage the wound. Cheryl stood up, her mind whirling in confusion, while the little woman wrapped her arm in a bandage.
"Goodness. What has happened to my machine?" asked the little man. In the room's corner stood a smouldering heap of burnt wire, twisted metal, and molten glass. Wisps of smoke were rising and drifting out through an open window while little flames shot out from the twisted metal.
"I'm sorry, Professor, but the extra person was too much for the machine. It exploded as you came through the gate."
"Oh calamity, now the young woman can't return to her own time."
This was too much for Cheryl. The world started spinning, and she fainted.
"Quick, Rowland. Pick her up and put her on the sofa."
Rowland picked up the unconscious Cheryl and carried her into the lounge room. Cheryl opened her eyes to find herself surrounded by concerned faces.
"I think we owe you an explanation, my dear."
"Blimey. I say you do," Cheryl retorted, "One moment I'm waiting for a bus, looking forward to my tea. Next thing I know, I'm in an insane asylum."
"'ere, are you calling us mad?" asked the portly lady.
"Calm yourself, Mrs Cole. The young lady is just confused," said the tall, grey-haired man. "Let me introduce ourselves. My name is
Professor Scott. This gentleman is Professor Schmidt."
The little old man raised his hat.
"This fine man is Rowland. Professor Schmidt's butler."
The butler bowed.
"And this wonderful lady is Mrs Cole, the professor's housekeeper."
Mrs Cole curtsied.
"And what is your name, young lady?"
"Cheryl, Cheryl Brown."
"Professor Schmidt has brought you back in time as proof his experiment worked."
"In my defence," Professor Schmidt interjected, "I intended to take you back. I didn't know my machine had exploded."
Cheryl stared at the Professor.
"Are you telling me I've travelled back in time?"
"I'm afraid so," said Professor Schmidt.
"What year is it?"
"January the fifth, eighteen-ninety-five."
"And the place?"
"Salsbury Street, London."
Cheryl swung her legs off the sofa.
"Nonsense," she said. "where is the telephone? I want to call a cab."
YOU ARE READING
Trapped in 1895
FantasyThis is a story about a young, highly paid computer professional that is pulled to the year 1895 against her will. She lands at a time when her skills are useless and has to survive as a scullory maid and eventually waitress. She does find friendshi...
