Cracked Ice, Part 1

The Time Travel Agency had a vital mission to increase the positive vibrational frequency of our time. This work is done by twin flames when they meet. Since many twin flames are incarnated on earth in different time periods, it became the Agency’s mission to connect people to their twin flame from another time period. The positive vibrations will increase exponentially and finally counteract the negative energy in the current time. 

It took at least a week to get ready for the trip. Each person had to meet with the counselors to be evaluated, learn about culture and history. It was also necessary to meet with a doctor to have a complete physical and to have shots protecting us against the various diseases of the era we were traveling to. In addition, each traveler needed to research specific places, meet with teachers to learn speech patterns, language usage, and manners, and receive lessons on clothing and hair styles. In addition, a personal stylist met with the women to pick new glasses frames, learn makeup tips and have their hair cut in the historical way. The personal stylists had been employed at the movie studios. They needed new work, however, since much of their old work is now replaced by CGI technology. 

The Agency also determined after the styling how old you would “be”. [The Agency determined after the first travelers entering the past returned that people’s ages need to be adjusted. Our current methods of diet and general health make us look much younger than we actually are when compared to people several generations ago.] 

The Agency also suggested that people work on their own research before signing up. Some of us have done deeper research on some of the people we were hoping to meet once we’ve arrived to our planned destination. Of course, the Agency didn’t tell us who they believed our twin flame was, since only twin flames know for certain that they are linked. 

Overall, the Time Travel Agency made sure there were safety nets in place, so that peoples’ lives in the past were not adversely change or affected by these temporary visitors. It also worked on ensuring that the travelers were safe and undetected by the people who populated the time period they traveled to. After all, twin flame work was not understood by many in the past, and it could jeopardize both the travelers and the mission if they were detected. Part of how this was done was that they didn’t allow several people who were interested or traveling to the same time period travel together. 

So, here I am, Leora Benson, Agency-determined age of 35, traveling alone to Hollywood, California, Fall 1932. The travel destination was a special “safe house” that was set up by the Time Travel Agency to be the time traveler’s place of residence. It appeared to be an ordinary boarding house; of course the boarding house owner is an agent with the travel agency. 

After spending at least 12 hours napping, the recommended way to acclimate to the weather and air, I woke up and sat up in my brass bed, stretched and walked across the room to wash my face in the small basin on the table. I found the antibiotic prescription left for me, and took the prescribed dosage. After washing up, I got dressed, which took me longer than I figured because of buttons on my dress and putting my stockings with garters on straight. 

I quietly slipped downstairs for breakfast and ate a hard boiled egg and toast and glanced at the newspaper being passed around the table. The other boarders didn’t seem to notice me; they talked amongst themselves or read the paper. 

After my meal, I stepped outside and looked at my map. I walked down the street towards the temp worker agency the Time Travel Agency. The T. T. Temp Agency (TTTA) was set up as a way for travelers to earn money, interact with society and potentially connect with their twin souls while they were visiting. The Hollywood studios considered temps from TTTA highly skilled, knowledgeable and hard working. 

After my skills were tested by the TTTA, they told me the 3 jobs they had available. While I read the descriptions, the placement worker went and talked with her colleague who just took a new phone order. They both came over to me and said, “We just received a call and a secretary is needed immediately. 

They handed me a public transport schedule, the address and fare for the Yellow Car and sent me on my way without telling me anything else about the new assignment. On the way to the Yellow Car stop, I found a newsstand and picked up the current issue of Time Magazine. It caught my eye since my favorite comedy team was on the cover. After paying for it, I slipped it into my satchel to read later, since the Yellow Car had arrived. 

Within 15 minutes, I arrived to the small office building off of a residential street. I really didn’t have time to even be nervous about this surreal situation. I snapped into my routine temp worker mode and walked in, quiet, humble, and polite. 

I entered the building and am surprised to find a paper trail of letters strewn on the floor. Automatically, I crouched down and picked up each letter, following the trail and collecting the letters down a hallway on my hands and knees. Due to the overwhelming number of letters, I hadn’t read who they were to. I’m so involved in taking the letters from the floor that I didn’t hear a door opening at the end of the hall. 

I adjusted my wire-rim glasses, since I’m still getting used to them. I picked up another letter in front of me and then turned around to gather some I missed behind me. I heard a clear baritone voice ask, “Can I help you?” This startles me and a few letters go flying out of my left hand. 

I looked up, quite embarrassed, and am met with the kindest eyes and smile I’ve seen. The man in the door is dressed in a nice suit, shirt and tie. His face was familiar even without his stage wig. He quickly moved down the hall, picked up the spilled letters and helped me up in one quick swoop. He touched my shoulder and I felt a strange shock on my upper arm that took my breath away. “Thank you,” I said inaudibly. 

He shepherded me towards the door; “The temp agency said they’d send someone right away and we’ve wondering what happened. Come in, meet my brothers and get settled in before we gather the rest of the letters.” 

I couldn’t help but be stunned and speechless as Art Archer (of the famous comedic brothers) directed me into the office. 



To be continued...





Copyright Reserved © Leora Tozer 2013

Fiction: Strange World

I received a call from my boss on my day off. “Roxie,” he barked. “You were requested and I’m short-staffed. I need you here by 12.”

I sighed to myself, as I quickly packed my work clothes into a bag. I took a last look in the mirror as I zipped up my shiny black leather high heeled boots.

I arrived there quickly. I slipped into the locker room and changed into the required outfit. I slipped off my bleach blonde wig and arranged my long brown hair into a bun. I slipped on my glasses, grabbed my knitting bag and went into the work room.

I sat down in the rocking chair, rocked slowly and started a new row on a pale blue baby blanket. I waited a few minutes and looked up from my knitting. A baby boy with blonde hair and blue eyes was crawling towards me.

I set my knitting back down into the knitting bag. I could see the cameras in the corner of my eye as I reached down and picked up the baby at my feet. It always amazed me at how light the baby feels when I lift him into my lap.

I started to adjust my top and noticed that this baby didn’t immediately reach for my chest like the other babies do. He seemed to be studying my face. I pushed that thought out of my mind, as I lowered the flap for the nursing bra and moved the baby’s head towards my left breast. The baby suckled and drank while I softly caressed his hair.

The baby’s reached out and placed its right hand onto my breast. A flood of memories washed over me, immersing me in the life I’ve been trying so hard to forget since I arrived here.

I saw three blonde-haired children walking on a hill; two girls and a boy were laughing and running ahead of me. I remember the peace and joy of watching them enjoy the sunlight. How free and innocent the world was then.

My heart ached with the memory. I held back the tears and took slow, deep breaths of air, so that the cameras wouldn’t be able to pick up on my thoughts. I looked down at the baby, and lifted him to my shoulder, patting his back. I quickly switched the flaps of the nursing bra, and moved the baby to my right breast.

I rocked the baby as it appeared to drink. I could tell this one was different, he didn’t seem to relish my nipple or breasts like the other babies here do. I felt slightly uneasy as I looked down at him. He moved his arm and covered his face slightly as he nursed.

Our time was up, and the nursery assistant came to take the baby out of my lap. I refastened the nursing bra and my blouse, picked up my knitting bag and stood up. I went to the main office to ask my boss if there were more appointments scheduled for me. He said there wasn’t, and I could go home.

I went back to the locker room and changed out of my work outfit, which was a white blouse, a long knit skirt and sneakers. “He must have offered more a double rate to ask me to come in today,” I thought to myself as I washed the milk off of my skin. I am always careful to wash all evidence of my job off of me before I go out into the street. The girls who haven’t followed these rules have disappeared; the rumors at work are that they are killed or kidnapped by former clients.

The great danger of this job is that you never recognize your clients once you leave here. The machine that makes the grown men into babies has never been fully explained to me; however, when we are in that room, they feel, act and smell just like a real baby. While I never asked to come here, I figured I have to try to survive, if only to prevent other women from being kidnapped, taken away from their children, and made to do this demeaning form of sex work.

I slip on my tight black dress and zip up my thigh-high, high heeled boots. I have to dress as all the women do in the city, to blend in. I move my brown hair up and slip the blonde wig back onto my head. I slip on a pair of prescription sunglasses and reapply my red lipstick.

I throw my canvas bag over my shoulder and walk out of the building. As I walk down the street, a tall man bumps into my shoulder. I barely look up and say, “Excuse me.”

He softly, kindly replies, “Forgive me.” His tenor voice echoes through my heart in a strange way, so I look up. His blue eyes looked in kind recognition at me. I can’t remember the last time anyone had looked at me with such a gentle compassion.

He softly commands, “We have to keep walking. Come with me.” His hand gently grips my elbow and a flood of images of sunlight and laughter nearly stops me cold. My legs felt weak, but I take a deep breath and force myself to walk. I hide my trembling hands in my jacket pockets while I look forward blankly.

After walking a couple of blocks, I ask, “Am I being kidnapped?”

He smiles and whispers, “You don’t remember. You were kidnapped 3 years ago.”

I didn’t remember exactly how, but I knew what this stranger said was true. I knew I didn’t belong in this world and that every day I stayed here, a part of me slowly died.

We kept walking he looked quickly around, and carefully pushed me into the alley with him. There was a black car with tinted windows waiting there for us. I was still in a state of shock as he lifted me into the backseat and climbed in after me. He shut the door and knocked on the tinted window between the back seat and the driver. The car jumped into gear and turned into the street.

I tried to look out of the window, but it was too dark for me to see anything. I felt confused and tired, and I could hear him say, “It’s alright; you’re safe now,” as I suddenly fell to sleep.