When Time Slowed…And Sped Up Again

A local community newsletter caught Abigail’s eye, as did the feature article exploring the myth of a hidden time warp that was believed to have been buried under a specific house on a specific street in Windsong centuries ago when the town was first built.

When Abigail moved to her new neighborhood of Windsong, it didn’t take her long to recognize that nobody in the historic little neighbourhood was in a hurry to do, well, anything. The sold sign stayed on her front lawn for days after she moved in, a group of ladies brought her a welcome basket and balloons four weeks after her arrival. Nobody was out walking their dog before 10 a.m., so when she took her own dog Barney out, they were the only ones walking along the virtually deserted streets. Those who worked outside of their home also left around 10 a.m., maybe even later. Even her lawn sprinklers, which she set for 7 a.m. sharp every morning, never went off until after 9 a.m. And even moreso, the roosters that took up residences in virtually all of her neighbours’ backyards, liked to alert everyone as to when the sun was going down, as opposed to going up. That was why, when the cement truck showed up one day, insisting they had an appointment to fill the giant crack in her front walkway, she insisted to them that they tell her when the initial request was placed. Ah yes, the initial request came exactly four months earlier, obviously from the previous home owners because she had only been in that house for three.

Abigail watched as the crew completed their work and carried on. It only took an hour and they left their card.

It wasn’t until the following morning when the rooster woke her up that she realized it hadn’t done so the night before. Without thinking much of it, she fed Barney, made her morning coffee, and walked outside with her mug in her hands and her dog close behind her. The sprinklers soaked her legs immediately, her loose pyjama pants now soaking wet and clinging to her legs. She startled, spilling her coffee, and Barney immediately hid behind her. He was never a fan of water.

It was only 7:15 a.m.. How odd. But as she stood outside, drenched, and holding her half spilled coffee, she saw people out walking their dogs, and a few people pulling out of their driveways, dressed and ready for work. Even Barney was looking confused with the seemingly bizarre disruption to an equally bizarre neighborhood. Over the following days however, the pair settled into an otherwise normal and busy routine that started early and ended late. It was one that felt rushed, chaotic, and at times, was even stressful.

One day after gathering the mail, Abigail sat in her front porch, separating all the junk mail from letters. Let’s actually face it. There were no letters and it was all just junk mail. Barney sat on the front lawn, watching the birds and the butterflies flutter about.

A local community newsletter caught Abigail’s eye, as did the feature article exploring the myth of a hidden time warp that was believed to have been buried under a specific house on a specific street in Windsong centuries ago when the town was first built. They could not however confirm the specific house nor this specific street it was supposedly buried under.  Multiple historians feared an excavation project could initiate the time warp once again. It was unknown how this ancient time warp could affect the town’s residents and those involved in the project. A collective decision was made from the town’s historic committee to let the myth lay dormant unless any promising, and safe, suggestions were put forth to investigate it further. Abigail smirked at the story, thinking it was only fitting that a quaint little historical town such as Windsong had such a mysterious history that some still believed today.

While she was reading, and conveniently distracted, Barney had grown bored and began to conduct his own excavation. It wasn’t until there was dirt flung all over her lawn that she saw he had a long root in his mouth that still had one end buried in the ground. As he pulled and pulled on it, Abigail could see it went under the newly fixed sidewalk. Barney continued to tug on it and as he did, the sidewalk cracked again, the cement falling into what was now a large crevice in the sidewalk.

Frustrated with not only the mess but yet another broken sidewalk, she called Barney and the two of them went inside. Abigail found the card from the cement truck that had been to her place only days earlier. The crew said they would be out right away. That night the rooster alerted them to the sun setting. The following day, when she stepped outside to drink her morning coffee, in rubber boots nonetheless, she quickly kicked them off because the sprinklers surprisingly, weren’t running. The streets too, were quiet. Nobody was out walking their dogs, nobody was backing out of their driveways on their way to work.

The cement truck showed up four months later. The rooster was sure to let everyone know when the sun had risen the following day.

Image Credit: soulmate/Adobe Stock


Picture of Kathryn Kazoleas

Kathryn Kazoleas

Kathryn is a Canadian author. She has written the middle grade chapter books Dog Park and Dog Daycare, and has many more books swirling around in her imagination just waiting to be written. She lives with her dog Koa and her cat Keeva who work as her copy editors and expert distractors.

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