Writing Prompt Boot Camp, Day 7

When I saw the name of the prompt, "Back from the Future", I wasn't that excited. Time travel stories can be fun, but they are hard to write, at least for me. So I settled on some characters and just ran with the idea...

Chrissy was prepared to shut the door in the strange man’s face, but he said something that stopped her cold.

“What did you say?” Chrissy asked.

The man at her doorstep, a smartly dressed Asian man with dark hair and pale skin, repeated what he said just a moment earlier. Chrissy saw the briefcase that the man held tightly in his left hand, and then some pieces of memory clicked together.

Chrissy withdrew her cell phone from her pants pocket and held it in front of the man’s face.

“You try anything weird, I call 911. You got me?” The man nodded and Chrissy stepped aside to allow him entry into her apartment.

Without saying anything, the man moved into Chrissy’s disheveled living room, cleared a space on the folded futon by tossing some dirty clothes onto the floor, and sat down.

Chrissy followed him but stood in the archway that led to the kitchen and the back door. Never in her life had she been so grateful to insist on renting a ground floor unit.

“I’m not going to ask if you remember me,” the man said, “because I know you do.”

“Yeah, I remember you,” Chrissy responded. “We met, like, what? Two weeks ago? You were a guest speaker at my seminar.”

The man nodded and then placed his briefcase on the small “coffee table” in front of him. For a second, Chrissy was worried that her haphazard engineering of rescued plywood and scavenged milk crates would not support the briefcase, but it did, and she let out a breath she was unaware she had been holding. She hoped he didn’t see her obvious relief. He had.

Smiling, the man opened the briefcase, withdrew a plain yellow file folder, and closed it. He laid the folder on top of the case and stared at Chrissy.

“What?” Chrissy asked. “What’s that look for?”

“I’m just remembering the questions that you posed during my class,” he said.

“Well, you’ll have to refresh my memory because I have trouble recalling what I had for lunch yesterday, so – “

“It was leftover pasta,” the man interrupted. Chrissy closed her mouth with an audible clack as her teeth came together.

“Ms. Eaton, er, can I call you Chrissy? It will save a bit of time, and I don’t have long,” the man asked. He looked at his watch, which was odd because Chrissy didn’t remember him wearing a watch in class two weeks ago.

“Sure, whatever,” Chrissy said. “What’s so pressing? Do you have another class on particle physics to teach at some community college night school?”

“Something like that,” the man said. “But first, I came to see you for two reasons. First, to thank you.”

“Thank me for what?”

“For your insightful questions. Without them, I would not be here having this conversation with you right now.”

“Ok, so, you’re welcome, I guess,” Chrissy replied. “What’s the second reason?”

“To give you this,” the man said while indicating the folder.

“And what is that? The answers to next week’s test? Because those would be really helpful,” Chrissy said, trying to sound casual.

“Unfortunately, no,” the man said, still smiling. “But I think you’ll find this much more useful. Besides, you’re gonna ace that test next week.”

“Ok, you have to stop saying shit like that,” Chrissy barked. “Stop trying to make me think you’re from the future.”

The man said nothing. Just sat there, smiling.

Chrissy leaned against the arch and sagged down to the floor; the phone still clutched in her hand. The exasperation was building and building inside her, but did not feel angry toward this man. As Chrissy wrestled with her feelings, the man stood up and plucked the folder from atop the case. He walked over to Chrissy and then squatted down in front of her. Chrissy noted two things that amazed her and settled her emotional turmoil: his feet were firmly planted on the ground and his body did not make a sound as lowered himself toward the floor. Chrissy looked up into his smiling face.

“Wait, didn’t you have a cane or something when I saw you before?”

“I did indeed. It was a good day, so I left my walker in the trunk of my rental,” the man said.

“So, what? You’re better now? You’re better and from the future?” Chrissy said, her dubious nature returning.

“Something like that,” the man said. He placed the file folder on the floor in front of Chrissy. Then he stood up, his body making no noise at all. Not a pop of bone, not a creak of well-used muscle or tendon. He moved back to the futon and retrieved his briefcase.

“What is contained in the folder will not give you all the answers you want right now, Chrissy Eaton,” the man said as he headed toward the front door. “But it will definitely point you in some interesting directions. Directions that will change the world, if you want to.”

Without looking back, the man opened the door and left.

Chrissy’s tension fled her body, and she released the death grip she had on her phone. The sound of it bouncing off the old hardwood floor prevented her from losing consciousness, but she still felt woozy. She pulled her legs to her chest and lowered her head between them, taking slow breaths.

After what seemed like six hours, Chrissy raised her head and looked at the folder that lay in front of her. There were no markings on it and no indications of age. It looked like it had been bought from the OfficeMax down the street less than an hour ago. As innocuous as it looked, Chrissy knew that what lay inside was anything but.

She didn’t want to open it, but she did.

There was only a single sheet of paper inside, but the man was right: what was printed on it was going to change the world.

Was Chrissy brave enough to do that?