Across the Years (Beymani)

Chapter Ten: End of a Long Road

Beyoncé's POV

As the time traveling basket came to a rest, I could see abandoned boxes of stuff all around me, illuminated by the dim light streaming in through the windows. For a moment, I marveled at how this room had been used as a storage space for so long. In the early 2000s, it officially became a laboratory.

Eager to start my adventure, I grabbed my bags and hopped out of the basket. With a strange feeling, I then watched the basket retract back up the wormhole, watching as it vanished soon after. This was the farthest back I had ever gone. So far, I'd only gone as far back as 1902.

I slung my bags over my shoulder and went to the rear door. This time, it looked rather new. I quietly unlocked the door and stepped out into Friday, April 25th, 1869.

Quickly, I noticed that I'd promptly stepped into mud as well. The alley behind the building, which was paved in later years, wasn't in 1869. I supposed it had rained during the night, causing the dirt in the alley to turn into a rather large puddle of mud.

"Mud. How wonderful," I grumbled as I locked the backdoor and headed out.

Coming around the alley, the first thing I spotted was a light horse-drawn carriage, known as a dogcart. Its driver, who appeared to be a laborer of some sort, paid me no attention as he urged his horses down the cobblestone street.

It was then that I noticed the smell. It was 1869 after all, a time when horses were the common form of transportation. As soon as I stepped out onto the unpaved road, I got a nice whiff of horse dung. First mud, now the wonderful aroma of horse shit. Great.

Looking around, I could see that the street was practically deserted, which made sense being that it was only just after six in the morning. The city of London was only just waking up and going about its day. Having a very long way to go, I looked back at the old buildings for a little while longer, then started making my way to where I needed to be.

Every other time that I'd come out here from Herford, I took the underground route. But unfortunately, the tube hadn't been built yet, so I had to take the long way. I thought of how I could've catch a horse-drawn carriage, but being that I was limited on 19th century cash, I wanted to save my money.

Besides the obvious differences, such as the absence of cars or anything modern, one thing really stuck out to me: the people.

As I walked, I started to see many laborers in rough looking clothes on their way to work. I could tell that many of these people had a hard life. The pain was etched all over their faces and in their eyes. In my research before the trip, I'd seen many pictures of men working long hours under the most miserable conditions. Clearly, these were those men. Many of the older ones looked tired and worn out. I also noted how the people in 1869 London didn't smell all that great. The overwhelming scent that hung in the air was sweat. And poverty.

The workers paid me little to no attention as I walked. In my military uniform, I appeared to be just another out-of-work soldier. Only upon closer examination would anyone notice my long hair and soft feminine features. However, I wasn't trying to tempt fate, so I kept my hair under my hat and avoided looking anyone in the eye.

It was odd; I kept expecting to find myself walking off a film set to find lights and cameras just around a corner. But this was no film set. The horses, buggies, wagons, cobblestone streets, and workmen were all real.

About an hour into my walk, I spotted a prostitute in a well-worn and torn red velvet dress, her make-up crudely done and appearing to be a solid veteran of the streets. She leaned against a building, waiting with a thin cigar in her mouth. It then occurred to me that in about nineteen short years, Jack the Ripper would begin his reign of terror right in this neighborhood.