Farm
It is very weird finding yourself in the middle of a hay stack. I suppose it could have been worse: the middle of a mountain, or perhaps mid air, hundreds of feet above the ground, but I had deliberately picked a very stable location in geophysical terms. I am not stupid after all.
But what I had not counted on was the season, and the high likelihood that at harvest time I might land in something other than open air.
If only I had booked a shorter time travel trip. This could get very dull.
As long as there wasn’t a needle in it!
Not a holiday destination where you could make hay while the sun shines, then…
Hay, watch those comments!
Congrats–I’m giving you the One-Minute Writing of the Day award for this bit of fiction!
-C. Beth
I saw an alarm clock fly through a window this morning.
Would that be ‘time travel?’
Only if you were sitting on it at the time.