Chapter 4 (The Thing at the End of Time)
Location: Xalitharian Timeline
Date: c. 1890 CE
“Ah, the visitor awakes.”
The voice was warm and familiar in a way that made Steph feel safe. It was a voice from another life, another time. One she hadn’t heard in years but had never forgotten.
Her eyelids fluttered, heavy as if weighed down by memories. The room swam into focus — flickering lamplight, the scent of lavender and old books, and above her, a face she had not seen in so long it almost felt like a dream.
“Nancy?”
A smile, wry and knowing. “So, you do remember me. For a moment, I feared I had a ghost in my guestroom.”
Steph blinked, still gathering her senses. She was reclined, propped up by a mountain of pillows. Her head throbbed.
“Did I faint?”
Nancy nodded, her dark curls catching the golden glow of the lamp. “Like a proper gothic heroine. Right there in the drawing room. You always did have a flair for the dramatic.”
Steph groaned and touched her forehead, wincing when her fingers brushed a sore spot. “Did I hit my head?”
“Just a little bump. Lord Carrington has sent for the doctor, but I volunteered to keep an eye on you in the meantime.”
Steph let out a small, breathy laugh. “Some things never change.”
Nancy tilted her head, grinning. “I did my fair share of looking after you, didn’t I?”
“More than I ever deserved.”
“Nonsense,” Nancy said firmly. Then, with a softer voice, “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you here. I had to ask you to come, but I never truly thought you would. And now, with everything happening… I needed you, Steph.”
Steph reached out instinctively, finding Nancy’s hand where it rested on the bedspread. Their fingers intertwined easily, as if no time had passed. The gesture was second nature, born from years of whispered conversations in candlelit dormitories, of late-night confessions and reassurances. Of Nancy being the first person Steph had ever told — before she had even found the words herself.
“How long has it been?” Steph asked.
Nancy’s expression turned wistful. “Too long. You were off chasing knowledge in all corners of the world. I wrote, you wrote back … and then, somehow, life happened.”
“I never forgot you,” Steph whispered. “Not once.”
Nancy squeezed her hand. “Nor I, you.”
For a moment, silence settled between them — not the awkward kind, but the sort that only old friends could share. A silence brimming with unspoken understanding, with years of history stretching between them like an invisible thread that had never truly frayed.
Nancy cleared her throat, a twinkle returning to her eye. “But enough sentimentality. You must be parched. I’ll get you some tea.”
Steph smiled, watching as Nancy moved about the room, fussing over her the way she always had. Some things really didn’t change.
And, for the first time since stepping into Carrington House, Steph felt safe.
A knock on the bedroom door announced the arrival of the doctor. He was led into the room by a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed for dinner in black trousers and jacket. His head was completely bald of hair, a startling contrast to the thick beard and moustache which covered most of his face. Ice-blue eyes glared intensely as the man stepped toward the bed.
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“Professor Thornecroft, I presume? I am Lord Carrington. My wife has been corresponding with you this past fortnight.” He spoke in a low, commanding manner that gave the impression of never being challenged.
“It is a pleasure to finally meet your lordship. Should I apologize for my sudden bout of poor health? It was quite unexpected.”
Lord Carrington loomed over her. She examined his face and realized he probably looked much younger without the beard. He seemed to be evaluating her, and the pause in conversation extended to an uncomfortable length.
Finally, Lord Carrington spoke as if the professor had said nothing, “This is Dr. West, the family physician.” He beckoned to the other man before quietly stepping out of the room and closing the door.
Steph blinked at Carrington’s abrupt exit. So far, this family has demonstrated impressively poor social skills. She glanced in Nancy’s direction. The other responded by making an almost imperceptible grimace. Steph suppressed a smile; at least she wasn’t the only one who thought Lord Carrington’s behavior was rude.
Dr. West opened a small leather bag and produced a stethoscope. He was a portly man wearing a brown suit and waistcoat. He had a surprising amount of white hair and a bristling white moustache.
“Now, dear, shall we begin?”
“Doctor, will this take long? I am anxious to redeem my reputation with Lord and Lady Carrington. I am known in my circle for stalwart health.”
“I’ll keep this brief, miss.”
Steph did not relish being examined by doctors. She had made a close friend in London who was knowledgeable and supportive of her gender identity. This man was a stranger, and the professor felt her shoulders tense as the doctor listened to her heartbeat. He then checked her eyes and looked closely at the forehead bump.
“This is a nasty lump, but I think you’ll be all right. I will leave an herbal compress with you. You should rest tonight.” He gathered his supplies and stepped towards the door. “Oh, yes,” he turned back towards the bed, “no lights. It will help with the head pain.”
“Thank you, doctor.” Steph felt her body relax as the man left.
Nancy had been listening from across the room. Now, she walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. She patted Steph’s hand.
Steph offered a grim smile, “I appreciate that you did not leave me alone with him.”
“Gals have to look out for each other,” Nancy replied. “You should rest like Doctor West instructed.”
Nancy stood up and smoothed her skirt. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll ask someone to bring you some food.”
Steph hadn’t thought about food in hours, and she was suddenly very hungry. “Thank you, Nancy. Once again, you are my guardian angel.”
The comfort of Nancy’s presence lingered after she left the room.
///
Author’s Note:
For the past year, I have been writing and publishing a series of novellas through Amazon’s self-publishing service. This creative venture challenged me to complete stories and share them with readers. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing these stories, and finding a way to express myself was beneficial to my mental health.
The Thing at the End of Time is the seventh book in the “Chrono-Cannabis Chronicles.” With its completion, I decided to change up the publication process. The Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing program was beneficial in helping me take the plunge into self-publishing. However, their user agreement places frustrating limitations on how I can distribute my work.
My fiction is for fun. Perhaps not surprisingly, writing about a time-traveling space wizard provides an imaginative escape from the difficulties of real life. These stories are silly sci-fi adventures written with love, and I want to be able to share them with other readers. Sharing is part of my creative process, but sharing is limited when my books are behind a paywall.
Eventually, there will be a website with free digital downloads of my books. Until then, I am dropping new releases on this blog one chapter at a time. Please, join the adventure by following and sharing with a friend. It’s a free way for you to support me as an artist.
Thank you for visiting my blog. I would love to hear your thoughts! Leave a comment or send me an email: theoneandonlystonersteve@gmail.com.
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