Dealing with Time

The wooden sign with the words “Horace and Flo” carved into it assured the young man that he reached his destination. A defiant whine resonated from the rusty metal door as he entered the store..

Contrary to the dilapidated appearance of the entrance, the interior was pristine. The young man found himself in a large room filled a countless variety of shiny clocks aligned on shelves and in glass doored cabinets. The room was filled with a chronological chorus of harmonious ticking save for one faint but very apparent tick from his watch that came just a little bit early, or late depending one’s perception. He tried to ignore his minute disruption by looking around. “Hello?” He asked, not sure where to direct his voice.

“Who is it?” came the hoarse voice of an older man somewhere further down the store.

“It’s Mark,” said the man. “I have an appointment.”

“You mean you’re late for an appointment” snapped the voice.

Mark checked his watch. Only by a minute, he thought. He scanned the store to find three pathways through the maze of shelves and cabinets. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if I was at the right store,” he said while switching his attention between the three paths to try to get an idea on which one the voice came from. “How do I get to you?”

“Just walk towards my voice.”

“Which path do I take?,” asked Mark.

A sigh filled the store. “They all lead to me, but the one to the right is the easiest.”

“Right. Thanks,” Mark replied with an apologetic tone before heading down the instructed path. Along the path were more shelves and cabinets of clocks. Mark could not make out any specific method or pattern to how the clocks were organized. On one shelf was a digital clock with neon red numbers that one would expect to find in a seedy motel sitting next to a Victorian style clock with its gears displayed within a glass panel. A metal wind up alarm clock with two bells resting on top of and a happy cartoon face was next to a clock in a case with floral designs. There were even a few different types of grandfather clocks wedged between some of the shelves and cabinets. After a few turns, Mark finally made it to an opening where a man was sitting at a work table, hunched over with his head down under a lamp. “You must be Horace,” said Mark.

“Master of the obvious, this one is,” said Horace while studying one of the many gears of a disassembled watch. The hair sticking of his visor seemed to almost glow a bright white from the lamplight above him. The wrinkles along his liver spotted face remained rigid as he squinted down at the magnifying glass. “You know I probably have a timepiece to help you with your punctuality problem.”

Mark checked his watch to make sure it matched the clocks in the room. “My watch is fine.”

Horace placed the gear down and to examine Mark with his eyes still squinted. “I’ll be the judge of that,” said Horace. He presented an open hand to Mark to make a demanding gesture for his watch which  Mark obliged.

Horace stared at the face of Mark’s watch, carefully tapping his finger along with the ticking the store provided for what Mark felt like was an awkward length of time. 

“I-“ Mark began.

“Shhh,” said Horace.

Mark complied and attempted to busy himself by looking around the different clocks around the store until Horace finally said, “Your watch is out of sync.”

“Out of sync?”

“Yeah its handling of time is unstable,” Horace said. He opened a desk drawer below him and started to rummage through it.

Mark tried to fathom Horace’s diagnosis. “You’re joking right?”

Horace stopped rummaging to look up at Mark for a second with a glare. “I don’t joke.” He pulled out a watch and held it next to Mark’s watch that was in his other hand. He stared at both of them for a moment, nodding his head with the store’s ticking, and gave a grunt of approval. “This should help prevent any future problems.”

“I’m sorry but I’m not here to prevent future problems,” said Mark. “I’m actually here to prevent a...,” he hesitated at the absurdity of what he was about to ask, “...past problem.”

“No,” Horace huffed. “I don’t deal with past problems.”

“But I certainly do,” came a woman’s upbeat voice from behind Horace, who cringed at the sudden intrusion. Mark looked ahead to find, to his surprise, a young girl with bright blue eyes in front of a nearby doorway. She wore a white, silky robe-like dress with a thin, glittering rope tied around her waist. She ambled her way over to Horace and stopped beside him. “Horace,” his cringing intensified at the sound of his name being projected from the girl’s mouth ,“my fellow pea in a pod, it looks like this gentleman is in need of my special dealings,” she said with a smile.

“H-hi,” Mark said with reluctance. 

“What’s the matter?” said the girl.

“You seem a bit,” Mark took a moment to confirm the appearance of the girl, “young.”

The girl cradled her cheeks in a form of mock shyness. “Oh you,” Horace sneered at the girl as she gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. “Better keep an eye on this one.” She brought her attention back to Mark. “I assure you I’m older than I look.” 

“Does that mean you can…,” Mark cleared his throat, “...take me back in time?”

“That I can,” said the girl. “You must be Mark. Flo’s the name. Dealing time’s my game. Well, I guess most consider it a service, but I’m having a devil of a time trying to come up with a good phrase that rhymes with ‘service’ and I’m such a sucker for a good rhyme. Saying a good rhyme helps me have a good time.” 

  “Don’t do it,” said Horace before Mark could shake her hand. “It’s never a good idea to mess with time.”

“Oh don’t be such a fuddy duddy, Horace,” Flo said with a smile still on her face.d. “He just wants a second chance.”

“They always do.” Horace turned to Mark. “What if you make things worse? What if you end up putting yourself in an earlier grave? Is whatever it is you’re trying to change worth those kind of risks?”

“I…” Mark looked away from Horace’s pleading eyes. He reminded himself the how the reward would outweigh the risks. “Yes.” he said with unexpected conviction. “I need to do this.”

“Wonderful! Now how about you step into my office so we can see what I can do for you,” said Flo. She snatched Mark’s watch from Horace’s hand and tossed it back to Mark. “I can take it from here Horace, old buddy.” She gestured Mark to follow her to the doorway that she came from.

“Kid wait!” yelled Horace. Mark turned to barely catch another watch that was thrown to him; the same one Horace offered him earlier. “Put that on as soon as you go back.”

Mark held onto the watches and stopped in front of the doorway to find the other side of it to be completely pitch black. Somehow any form of light stopped right at the frame of the door. Two hands emerged from the darkness; one hand tapping the naked wrist of the other hand. “Time’s a wastin’, Mark. Tick tock,” came Flo’s voice before the hands slipped back into the darkness. He took a deep breath and stepped into the void. As his face passed through the doorway, he was shrouded in complete darkness only for a second before light erupted all around him and the sound of the synchronized ticking came to a sudden halt. It took a moment for eyes to adjust to the sight of a white room; empty save for a woman standing next to a pedestal with a large hourglass on it. The woman looked like she was around her mid-thirties, much older than Mark, and was wearing the same kind of robe that Flo was wearing. 

“So what can I do for you, Mark?” said the woman.

“Hi,” Mark said with reluctance. He looked around the room. “Where’d Flo go?”

The woman let out a quick laugh. “Ha! Flo. Go. That’s a good one.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Flo. Go,” the woman repeated a few times under her breath. “How about this? When there’s a time you want to go, don’t hesitate to ask Flo. What do you think?”

“Think about what?” asked Mark.

“The rhyme, silly! Don’t tell me you already forgot about my love of rhymes.” A familiar smile appeared on the woman’s face.

Mark’s eyes widened at the sight of the woman’s blue eyes. “Flo?”

“Present,” she said as if answering a roll call.

“I don’t understand.“

“You will in due time,” said Flo with assurance. “Now,” she said while clasping her hands together with excitement, “let’s get down to business. When would you like to go back?”

Realizing the watches were still in his hand, Mark puts them in his pocket. “I want to go back to the year…” He looked back at Flo to find a hunched, elderly woman in her place. “What is-“

“Still Flo,” said the elderly woman with a creaky voice and trademark smile. 

“R-right,” said Mark. “10 years 4 months and 10 days ago.”

The older Flo cupped her ear with one hand. “What was that? Speak up!” 

“I said-“

Flow straightened posture. “I’m just messing with you,” she said in her normal voice. “Now what kind of milestone/tragedy/turning point on this day would such a fine young man as yourself want to go back to?”

“Just a little mistake I need to fix.”

“Oh?” Flo said with intrigue. “Righting a wrong? How noble.” Her bony hand slid along Mark’s own hand as she drew closer to him. “My kind of guy.” Her wrinkled face caused him to look away with discomfort only to feel her hand caress his cheek and coax him back to looking at her. His face grew warm at the sight of a very attractive woman staring back at him with piercing blue eyes. “Or is it for more selfish reasons?” Before he could respond, she grabbed his arm and guided him to the hourglass. “Whatever the reason is, all you need to do is flip that hourglass over and you’ll be sent back.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Easy peasy,” she said out loud. She whispered something else under her breath with a giggle. Mark was pretty sure it was “lemon squeezy.”

His hands stopped before grabbing onto the hourglass. “What about your payment,” asked Mark.

“Already taken care of,” she said with a smile. “Or I guess in your case, ‘will be’.”

Mark looked back at his hands to find them shaking. This is what you wanted, Mark assured himself, you have to do this. He grabbed hold of the hourglass, took a deep breath, and flipped it over.