Time Travelling Friday–Future Message

October 3, 2025 / lmkling / Leave a comment

[So, if you could go back and talk with your 5-year-old self, what would you say? What would your 5-year-old self say to your future self? Here’s a story where I imagine just that.]

MESSAGE FROM MY FUTURE ME

“Grandma, can I excuse the table?” I asked.

Grandma chuckled. “You mean, be excused from the table, dear.”

I nodded and then pushed my chair from the old wooden table.

“Yes, you may, but don’t go too far,” Grandma said. “Go only to the end of the road and then you must turn back.”

“I will.”

*[Photo 1: Escapee from Grandma’s © C.D. Trudinger circa 1966]

I escaped out the back door and down the gravel driveway. The street spanned before me, begging adventure. Sunday lawns green, pungent with fresh Saturday clippings piled behind an assortment of fences.

“Go away, will you,” she said in her grimy blue dress. She leaned over the stone wall and pushed me.

I brushed off her greasy prints and walked on, leaving the willow tree and that girl snarling in the shade behind me. As I strolled into the sun, I ran my hand over cracked rendered walls, rattling cyclone fences and peering through the oleander bushes for signs of life in quiet houses.

“Don’t go over the road,” Grandma’s voice warned in my head.

*[Photo 2: Memories of Belair National Park © L.M. Kling]

No, I won’t. I rubbed my bottom in memory of the Belair Sunday school picnic adventure when my brother lost me. Promise! Careful not to step on the lines in the pavement. Bad luck. I tiptoed and danced along the pavement in my pink ballerina shoes.

A shadow wriggled over the pavers. Stobie pole to my right, plastered its stunted midday image on the asphalt. I halted. Casting my focus up, I spied this big girl. I squealed and clapped my hands over my mouth. This lady-girl was dressed all in lace and brown velvet as if in Grandma’s clothes.

“Hello, you must be Lee-lee.”

“Why did you know my name?” I pointed at her; rude, I know. “Ha, ha! Why are you wearing funny clothes?”

She blushed and rubbed her stubby fingers over the velvet. “They’re trendy where I come from.” She smiled and straightened her long dress that swept past her ankles. “Actually, where I come from, I know a lot about you.”

“Why?”

“Because I have the same name as you.”

“So? I know more than you do. You’re dumb. So there, ner!” I planted my hands on my hips and poked out my tongue.

“That’s no way to talk about yourself.”

“Huh?” I pulled at my pigtail and chewed the ends of my hair.

“Elementary girl.” She flicked her long blonde strands and smirked. “I am the future you. In fact, I know more than you do because I know what’s going to happen to you.”

“Future me?” I scratched my cheek and screwed up my nose. “What does future mean?”

“I am your grown-up self.”

*[Photo 3: Six-year-old self with missing tooth © C.D. Trudinger 1969]*

“Oh!” I wiggled a loose tooth. “Does that mean your teeth all fell out? Did you get grown-up teeth or did you get them all pulled out and get false teeth like Grandma’s?” I zoomed up to Future Me’s face and ogled at her mouth. “Come on, show me your false teeth.”

She bared her perfect row of pearly whites and nudged me back. “They are real. Orthodontically corrected, but real.”

“Arthur—what?”

“I had braces on my teeth.”

“Why? Were they crippled?”

“No, they were crooked.”

“Ugh! Crooked teeth.” I turned from her and poked stones with the point of my shoe. “I don’t think I like being you. Grandma clothes, crooked teeth that need Arthur’s braces. I’ll never be like you. You’re just pretending. ‘Sides, how could I be you?”

I squinted at this tall slim blonde who transferred her weight from one leg to the other. I noticed the worn back-pack groaning full of books, straps straining to pull the load from her waist. Future Me stroked her chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Well, it’s hard to explain to someone as little as you. You’re in Prep, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m a big schoolgirl, now.” I thrust my chest forward and with hands each side of my tummy, swung my hips.

“Well, big schoolgirl, Lee-Lee, to put it simply, it’s called T.T.T—thought, time, transportation.”

“What then?” I watched my pink dress swish as I swayed.

“You just think and instead of thinking time as moving forward, you make it move backward for you.”

“Just like that?”

“Well, actually, it’s more complicated than that—a kind of scientific experiment that my big brother Warwick invented. He put electrodes on my head and well, something happens that I can’t fully explain.”

“Oh, did you have a brother, Warwick too? Does your Warwick snort when he laughs?” I cupped my hand over my mouth and tittered.

The lady-girl raised her lace sleeve to her mouth and giggled. “Yes, he does.”

“You must be me.” Repressing the urge to gnaw my fingernails before my future-self, I clasped my hands together and looked in her eyes. “So, me, what’s going to happen to me?”

She avoided my gaze. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.

“That’s not fair! Why can’t I?” I grabbed at her, but she slipped through my fingers and drifted from me. “Plee-ease!”

“I can’t!”

I watched her move further away and shimmer in the sunlight.

“But why not? Please! Just a little bit.” I chased her and swiped at her. “Just a tincy-wincy-little bit. I won’t tell! Promise!”

“Alright, if you insist.” She floated above the greying plaster fence. “But I must be leaving soon.”

*[Photo 4: Trampoline fun © L.M. Kling 1988]*

She faded, blending in with the oleander and honeysuckle bushes. I strained to see her. I attempted to touch her, but my hand passed through her.

The wind whistled through the bushes. “Have a good time with Jilly.”

“You didn’t tell me! You lied, me!” I cried.

I hunched over and plodded back towards Grandma’s house. Shouts and squeals from a yard on my left, caught the corner of my eye. A girl my age bounced on an old double-spring bed.

“Hello, my name’s Lee, what’s yours?”

“Hello, my name’s Jilly. Do you want to play on the trampoline with me?”

© Lee-Anne Kling 2009; updated 2023; 2025

Feature Painting: Somerton Beach Dreaming © Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2011

^“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

***

Dreaming of being transported to another world?

Time for some weekend reading?

Take a break and journey to another world, another time to …

Diamonds in the Cave (New Release)

The Lost World of the Wends

Transport Yourself into Central Australia of old with my travel memoirs with the intrepid T-Team …

The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977

Trekking With the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981

Friday Fiction–Choice Bite (4)

August 8, 2025August 8, 2025 / lmkling / Leave a comment

Last Slice of the Black Forest —

Günter’s Wish Granted

Günter hobbled up the path to his house. His feet squashed into shoes now too small for him. Just before he entered, Günter examined his reflection in the window. He touched his pink cheeks and admired the sculptured perfection—the high forehead with no acne, the strong chin with no spots but a beard like a man, and hair straight, golden and manageable. He patted the top of his head. ‘Hmm, a bit thin on top,’ he mumbled. ‘Oh, well, now I can be happy that not even my brother Johann was perfect.’

Grandmother flung open the door. Günter slammed against the window. The wood panel blocked her view of Günter. ‘Now what am I going to do? The dinner is burnt,’ she said. ‘Where is he?’

Boris peeped around the corner of the house. ‘Forgotten something?’

He handed Günter a pile of folded clothes.

‘Can’t go around the village dressed like a boy, now, can you?’ Boris said, then vanished into the night.

Once Grandmother withdrew back into the house, Günter tiptoed to the outhouse and changed into Johann’s dapper tights, striped breeches and white shirt with the obligatory lacy sleeves. As he strolled to the front door, he heard screams and then a slap. Then he saw Anna run down the path, and a gangly looking fellow in underclothes loping after her.

Günter pushed open the door and walked into the kitchen. Grandmother continued her waltz with the broom, sweeping the cracked black and white tiles. A cloud of dust chased her around the room as she swept.

‘Your soup is on the stove, Johann,’ she announced in a sing-song voice, much like a yodel.

Salome leaned on the balustrade of the stairs, her blonde locks pasted to her perspiring temples.

She shook her head and stated, ‘At the inn again, I presume.’

Günter tugged at the hem of his shirt as Johann always did and said what Johann always said, ‘A man has got to do what a man has got to do.’

The door burst open, and his brother stumbled in, sporting a red welt on his cheek.

Salome launched into him like a fishmonger’s wife on an errant husband. ‘What have you been doing? How hard is it to find your brother? No supper for you. Off you go—bed—go on!’ She grabbed Grandmother’s broom and chased Johann in the form of Günter into his sleeping quarters, with Johann crying protests all the way.

Günter hid his urge to smile behind his hand.

After helping himself to pumpkin soup and bread, Günter yawned and mumbled his excuses for an early night and trotted upstairs to the bed he shared with his older, now younger brother. Oh, what a night it would be, sleeping on the less lumpy side for once, hogging the quilt and tormenting his brother. It was payback time.

The benefits of being Johann did not stop there. The next day, as he strolled in the village streets, men tipped their hats, women weaved out of their way through the crowd over to him and gifted him with fruit, home-made honey biscuits and apple cake. Milk maids, those same ones who reviled him the day before, this time, fluttered their lashes, blushed and shot him sideways glances. The tallest of the three sidled up to him as he stood talking to the tailor while they discussed his jacket for the May Day dance, and she pressed a note into his hand. Mein Gott, what a life!

Meanwhile, his brother languished under the whip of Grandmother’s broom when she heard he’d been expelled from school—again. Ah, sweet revenge.

Then the icing on the kuchen—lunch with Anna. He arranged a picnic by the river. Blue skies, tulips blooming, green grass, the birds singing and the bees humming. What a picture! What a day with is maiden in his arms. Anna talked non-stop the whole two hours. Günter as his brother, held his tongue when she prattled on about how she detested Johann’s younger brother, especially after the prank he pulled the previous night.

‘He’s creepy,’ she said and shuddered, ‘he tried to grope me. Ugh!’

Her words stabbed at his insides. He realised as Günter he never had a chance.

After Günter walked Anna back to the school where she helped her father who was the school master there, he spent the afternoon brooding, drinking beer at the Bier Haus until he was almost sick. Then he tramped through the forest alone. The novelty of being Johann had worn off and revenge didn’t seem as sweet anymore.

At the dinner table Johann as Günter raged. ‘I’m not Günter,’ he yelled and stabbed the table with his fork. ‘What is wrong with you people?’

Their mother made one of her rare appearances downstairs, but she seemed far away and unmoved by Johann’s tantrum.

Günter decided he had to leave. His face tingled as he slipped out of the house and hastened to the clearing with the moss-covered log; the meeting place appointed by Boris.

The ground glowed with warped and weird shapes under the strange luminous disk that hovered over the hill. No frogs croaked. No birds chirped. The air was still and cold. Even the cows refrained from braying.

Günter sat on the log and waited. Time seemed to stop in the silence.

A beam shimmered from the disk. Günter rubbed his eyes and blinked. Boris materialised in the centre of the beam. He appeared cockroach-shaped, then, as he strode toward Günter, he morphed into human-form.

‘Well, now, Herr Fahrer, have you decided?’ Boris asked.

‘Yes, I have.’

‘Well, then.’

‘More than anything else, I want to be handsome, brave, attractive to the ladies like my brother Johann. But I want to be myself, not someone else.’

Boris raised one side of the hairy eyebrow that spanned his forehead. ‘Very well, then.’

‘And one more thing, you know, like a package?’

‘Yes?’

‘Could I, with this new face, have a new life, say like in the Great South Land?’

‘Hmm,’ Boris nodded, ‘that can be arranged, if you wish. But…’

‘What?’

Boris coughed and flapped his wings. ‘You’re not going to fit in with the people who live there at the moment. I’d say wait until I’ve finished with Great Britain …’ He paced the clearing with his hands tucked behind his back. ‘In the meantime, I could take you on an adventure up there, into the far reaches of the galaxy. Consider it an added bonus, seeing what no man on this planet has seen before. What do you say?’

‘Ja, voll!’

‘Just sign here.’

Boris presented Günter with the tablet, its screen chock full of tiny black lines. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘it’s all routine. Just basically says you take responsibility for your decisions. Just covering my back and yours. You know, some civilisations can be quite litigious.’ Boris handed a fine pointy stick to Günter. ‘Use this pen to sign your name.’

Günter signed his name using the fine script he had learnt at school, and within seconds, he sat in a velvet-covered chair on the bridge of Boris’s ship. The walls shone with fresh white paint, the silver instruments gleamed, and the furnishings were scented with potpourri. He studied the sun as it shrank to just a speck of light amongst many specks of light.

Boris reclined on his seat, fully armoured, fully cockroach. ‘You should notice the changes in your form soon, my fellow.’

Günter tingled all over and he glanced at his hand. His warm, fuzzy sensation turned to cold hard panic.

‘My hand!’ he cried wriggling his three elongated fingers. ‘I’m turning grey!’

‘So, there you go,’ Boris said as he adjusted his light shields. ‘Right on schedule.’

Günter picked up a looking glass placed at his side and his hand trembled. He glared bug-eyed at his reflection. ‘I’m turning into a praying-mantis.’

‘You didn’t specify you wanted to be human.’

‘But a stick-insect? I’m hideous!’

Boris folded his four hands over his barrel chest. ‘So? Most Greys are females. So, you, as a male, will be most attractive to them.’

Günter unstrapped himself and jumped from his seat. He ran to the viewing screen. With his long fingers he traced the planets and sun of his solar system. ‘I have changed my mind. I want to go home.’

Boris smacked his lips and readjusted his bottom’s position on his seat. ‘Too late. You’ve signed the contract. Didn’t you read the fine print? All choices are final and cannot be changed.’

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2018; updated 2023; 2025

Feature photo: A door, Romantic Road, Bavaria © L.M. Kling 2014

New Release

Diamonds in the Cave

How could a most pleasant bunch of Wends turn so nasty? Witch-hunting nasty.

Click on the link above and find out.

Or for more Weekend Reading…

Go on a reading binge and discover the up close, personal and rather awkward relationship between Günter and that nasty piece of cockroach-alien work Boris in…

The Hitch-hiker

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Friday Fiction–The Choice Bite (3)

August 1, 2025 / lmkling / Leave a comment

Short Story: Black Forest…in Bite-sized Bits

Bit 3

The Temptation of Günter

‘What’s the matter?’

Günter glanced up. ‘Nothing.’

He sniffed and observed the slim man with a pale face and a monk’s haircut. He held a thin board similar to a slate under his arm.

‘Doesn’t look like nothing,’ the man said.

‘Nothing you can help me with,’ Günter replied. ‘You are the magic man, are you not?’

The man threw back his small head. ‘Hardly magic, my son. Merely science. You have heard of Physics?’

‘Yeah…but…’

‘Tell you what, you look like you’ve had a rough trot.’ The man took what looked like this slate from under his arm. The slate had a shiny surface. ‘How about I make your day.’ He ran his finger down the front of it.

‘Who are you?’

‘Just call me, Herr Roach.’

‘Herr Roth? Mr Red?’

‘No, Roach, as in Cockroach?’

‘Huh?’

‘Never mind—call me Boris,’ the man answered as he cleared his throat.

A whirring sound came from behind him and for a moment Günter thought he saw dark wings of lace flutter and then snap into the man’s back. Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

Boris’s mouth spread into a wide grin with teeth in a neat row like keys on a piano. ‘Now where were we? As I was saying, anything you want, anything at all. Whatever you desire, your wish is my—oh, dear, that sounds a bit lame. Now, what is your greatest desire, and I will make it so.’

‘You will?’

‘Yes, I will.’

Boris balanced the slate board on the tip of his finger. ‘Money, gold, wisdom—women and so on—you know the drill. Whatever.’ He flicked the slate front with his finger and made it spin through the air around their heads.

Günter, his eyes wide, gazed as the object slowed and fluttered into a butterfly and then settled on the log where he’d been sitting.

‘Wow! How did you do that?’

‘I’m still awaiting your answer. Anything you want.’

‘But it changed shape. You made it come alive.’

‘Never mind that—anything at all, it’s yours.’

‘Aber, what are you?’ Günter asked. He tried to catch the butterfly but it flew high above his head.

‘Oh, that’s hardly important,’ Boris said. ‘Come on, I’m waiting for your answer.’

‘I want to know,’ Günter reached for Boris, ‘where you are from.’

‘Not from this world,’ Boris stepped away from him and his arm became a tentacle and whipped Gunter’s hand. ‘Now hurry up! Tell me.’

Günter rubbed his fingers. ‘Are you a demon?’

‘Oh, Herr Fahrer, how could you think such a thing? I’m insulted.’

‘Ja, aber for a man, you have some strange appendages.’

‘That’s because, I’m evolved, my race is superior to yours.’ Boris narrowed his beady eyes and antennae sprang out from the top of his head. With his mouth closed he fed thoughts into Günter’s mind. ‘I don’t need a voice or a mouth. I can communicate my thoughts to you. So much simpler, don’t you think?’

Boris clicked his fingers and the butterfly floated into his open hands and turned once again into a slate board.

‘Now what will you have,’ Boris demanded with his thoughts, ‘Anything you want.’

The young man scanned the darkening sky and then spotted the first evening star glowing on the horizon.

‘Nay,’ Boris said, ‘further than Venus. Much further. The other side of the galaxy if you must know.’

‘Galaxy?’

‘Come on, I’m waiting, I haven’t got all century. Then in thoughts almost a whisper. ‘Got slaves to catch, planets to conquer.’

‘What? Did you say something?’

‘Are you a dumkopf? Tell me what you want!’

Dumkopf! Dumkopf! Günter hated being ridiculed. No, he wasn’t stupid. He sighed. ‘I hate my life. And you know, I hate this world I live in. I hate who I am. No one will miss me if I go.’ He trod towards Boris. ‘Can I go to your world?’

Boris edged away. ‘Well, now, there’s the thing. My world sort of exploded. You could say I’m homeless.’

‘Oh, sorry to hear that.’

‘Any other suggestions?’ Boris’s eyes glowed in the navy blue of early night. ‘I can change you like I did the slate, if you like.’

Günter picked at his nails. ‘I would not like to be a butterfly.’

‘You can be anything—anyone.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, no trouble at all.’

‘I could be a different person. No big nose. No brown curly hair. No pimples.’

‘Certainly, if that’s what you want,’ Boris said and flashed his wings.

Günter pondered. Maybe demons do exist. Maybe his grandmother was right. ‘I don’t know.’ A shiver coursed down his spine. ‘I think I should be getting home. I am late for dinner.’ As he backed away, an owl hooted.

‘What about a free trial? Can do no harm, Herr Fahrer.’ The man-beast followed Günter down the path. ‘Just one day, no obligation.’

Günter stopped and turned. ‘Only one day?’

‘Yes, that’s what I said.’

‘Anything? Anything I want?’

‘Yes.’

Günter stroked his chin. ‘Well, then, can you make me into my brother, Johann?’

‘Yes, I can do that.’

Boris pulled a stick from his stockings and plugged it into the slate. He tapped the surface. Writing appeared which he read for a few moments.

Then from a pocket in his cape, he pulled out a bottle. He tapped the bottle, picked out a pill, snapped it in half and handed the half-pill to Günter.

‘Eat this and think of your brother, Johann,’ Boris said.

Günter gulped down the pill. The slimy coating left a fishy after-taste on his tongue. He licked his lips, he had an idea. ‘I know, even better. Johann can become me. Then he’ll know how it feels.’

Boris rolled his eyes. ‘You’re a bright one, you should’ve thought about that before I gave you the Blob Fish pill.’

‘What? You can’t?’

‘I can,’ Boris said with a sigh, ‘but it will be a challenge. I do have the other half of the pill, so we’ll see what we can do.’ He rubbed the pill fragment between his finger and thumb. ‘Now, then I better hurry to do what you have requested. So, my boy, run along home, by the time you get there, you’ll be Johann.’

Günter turned to go.

‘Just one more thing, where exactly is your brother?’ Boris asked.

‘In the barn, always in the barn.’

‘Very well, enjoy!’ Boris said as wings sprouted from his back, he rose into the air and buzzed all the way up the hill to the barn.

Günter pelted up the path to his home on the hill.

[…to be continued, next week for the stunning conclusion.]

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2018; updated 2023; 2025

Feature Photo: Butterfly in Motion © L.M. Kling 2013

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