Stuck in the 70s

Good afternoon everyone and welcome to The Magical Mystery Blog.

You’re probably wondering why this entry is extremely late. Frankly, I can’t blame you – especially since I’ve been trying to schedule myself with the posts while taking care of things offline. You guys are entitled to an explanation and I’m more than happy to give one.

You see I was putting the final touches on a submission that was due yesterday before midnight. All day I had been in my room and I had the house to myself. The parents decided to go away for a few days to get their mind off things. As much as I was tempted to throw a fantastic party, I decided against it, knowing I had work to do. I did all the chores though as requested by the parents:  do a few loads of laundry, clean the living room, make dinner for myself, and tend to the garden.

We have a small spice garden in the back; it’s nothing to write home about. There’s some basil, mint, oregano, and rosemary. Now my back yard is shared with my neighbor, who also has a garden, but his’ is a little closer to his laundry line. It’s about thirty feet away from our little garden. He recently bought a few decorations for his yard, but I didn’t get a chance to see them until today. So I looked over expecting to see some garden gnomes, but instead I saw a few stone angels. They were your typical Walmart stone angels, hands over the eyes, winged spread, in little robes.

Now my inner Whovian told me to run for the hills, lock up the windows and doors, and hide in the deepest part of my house. But of course, my logical reasoning kicked in and reassured me that the weeping angels didn’t exist and to continue my chores. As I started to tend to the spices, I couldn’t help but feel as though I was being watched. Tension suffocated the air around me as my eyes darted left to right. No strangers or animals were in sight, as though my back yard was the home of a post apocalyptic nightmare. Turning around, none of my neighbors were out as I figured it would be best to make a break for the house. I would just grab some spices and run into the house as though Jason Voorhees himself was chasing me.

Turning back to the plants, I happened to notice my neighbor’s wife emerge from the house sobbing and bearing a little, white cross. Placing the cross between the angels, she unleashed a few wails of depression which cut through the tension, causing it to retreat like a silent army. Watching her, I wondered who died and what made her so sad. With every wail she unleashed my heart felt the stab of her emotions as I do, began to quietly mourn for a stranger. Slowly she rose from the garden, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Hey, what happened? You k?”

“N-n-no, it….it’s my niece…”

“Christie?”

“Mm-hmm….she…sh-she’s been missssing for…for a while….th-the police….said they…they called off her case t-today…unable to…to find…h-her.”

“That’s terrible! They couldn’t find any evidence or leads?”

“N-no…”

Christie was a nine year old who had been playing by the gardens only a few months ago. At the time my family and I were in Philadelphia visiting an old friend. We weren’t around for the niece’s disappearance, but we still sympathized with the neighbor’s wife regardless. It was terrible to lose a child, especially one in your family.

“I…I just wish…I knew where s-she was. I’d…I’d d-do anything to be…be with her now.”

As though someone had heard her wish, my neighbor was gone in the blink of an eye. Bewildered, I looked around to see if she took off like the Flash into her house, but I was sorely mistaken. Looking down, I saw one of the little angels. Its wings were fully spread apart and its hands were away from its little face, revealing a demonic expression. Eyes widened, my inner Whovian screamed.  That angel didn’t bear that face before as my brain began to panic and shrivel with fear. There was no way the neighbor’s wife carried it with her. She had no reason to bring it into the house or to show it off when I could plainly see it in her little garden.

Staring into the angel’s eyes, I slowly started to move back. I could easily run to the house, grab my keys, drive up to my boyfriend’s, and tell him everything. He’d let me hang at his house until my parents got home and I could call my neighbor’s husband, telling him to beware of the angels in his back yard. The cops wouldn’t believe me; why would they? I would sound like a lunatic if I told them that stone angels were chasing me.

The stretch from the spice garden to my back door seemed to go on for forever. I never knew how long the distance was which made my spine crawl with anxiety. The angel had never left my eyes as I dared not blink. Upon gripping the handle to the back door, I swung it open only to blink. The angel was at the bottom of the stairs leading into my house, its eyes narrowed with malicious intent. Stumbling into my house, I hurriedly slammed the back door and locked it. Rushing to the windows, I locked each one as I noticed another angel now standing before my spice garden.

I had to move fast. Locking all the windows and doors in the rest of the house, I quickly grabbed my travel bag, and threw in some essentials, my wallet, and my phone. I knew not to go out the back door, knowing those demons would be waiting for me. My car was parked out front, so I hoped that they weren’t that quick as they had appeared on “Doctor Who”. Taking a deep breath, I jolted out my front door, and ran for the car. Throwing myself into the driver’s seat, I tossed my bag into the back seat and locked the doors. 

Once more, I felt as though I was being watched. But that couldn’t be, I was fast, I was in the car, and there was no way that an angel was inside.  There was no angel in the back seat and there definitely couldn’t have been one in the trunk, I didn’t even open it!  Looking down into my passenger seat, my heart sunk with defeat. There sat the angel and I knew that if I turned my back for one minute, I would be sent into the past. Everything that had ever been me in this moment would be eaten away by this little monstrosity. It wouldn’t surprise me either if the other angel was waiting at my driver door. There was no way I could drive and keep one eye on the angel and the other on the road. It would have been too hazardous. I couldn’t even trap it in the seatbelt or throw it out because touching it would have sent me back to the past.

Sorrowfully sighing, I watched the angel as I scribbled a note on a gum wrapper and placed it in a cup holder. I then proceeded to make one last call, eyes never leaving the angel. Of course the call went directly to voice mail as my eyes began to water.

“Hey babe, listen, you’re going to forget me. You know those Weeping Angels from ‘Doctor Who’? Yeah, well, I get one right in front of me. It’s gonna send me to the past and by the time we ever meet again, well, it’ll be too late. So go ahead and find some…new….girl…have….have a good life. Just remember I’ll-I’ll always –“

“You have reached the maximum amount of time for this voicemail.”

So here I am typing to you from some computer in a blue box in the late 1970s. Well at least the angel sent me back to a time I always wanted to visit. Woodstock will be happening soon, The Blues Brothers will be having their shows, and we’re swimming in The British Invasion and The Hippie Movement. I think I may have a good life here.

Oh the blue box by the way? Yes, that’s the Tardis. The Doctor found me back here while he was searching for Andy Warhol. Something about him being a possible alien leader and that his paintings were a secret message to the world from some extraterrestrial force. Though I think the Doctor may have mixed up his coordinates cause wasn’t Warhol in New York? Anyway, I asked the Doctor if I could transmit this message and he said I could only if I provided him information on Warhol. Having completed his request, he allowed me to upload this entry so that everyone could see it.

But trust me, the angels are real and unmerciful. Do not blink if you see one. Always keep eye contact with them and get away as soon as possible. Do not let them anywhere near you and do not touch them.