Interviewer: How did you escape?
Winston: Friday night used to be the night when hookers came to visit the guards. They used to take turns, so us prisoners weren’t left unattended. One Friday, this massive argument started between two guards fighting about who would go first. Being drunk as well, the whole thing escalated to a major “settling things like men” kind of thing. In the midst of the fiasco, I took my clothes off, urinated on them, tightly tied them around two bars, and started spinning them so that the bars would bend. I did that on a second pair of bars, got out, and then ran for my life butt-naked.

Interviewer: What happened after that?
Winston: I managed to hide in a train that was transporting sheep to Mozambique. The smell was horrific, and you can imagine that they were pretty agitated because of the noise the train made. But I tell you, I had never felt happier in my whole life. The train stopped in Clewer and I decided to knock on some doors and ask for help. Fortune was definitely on my side as the door that I knocked on was John Howard’s. You can imagine the reaction that he had, having a naked man dressed up in sheep poo knocking on his door in the middle of the night.

Interviewer: Yes I can imagine he had quite the shock!
Winston: Indeed. After that I hid in the underground stables of the mine for six days. When I left for Mozambique, I thanked Howard for saving my life, and he told me something that I will never forget: “You make a living by what you get, but you make a life by what you give.”

Interviewer: As a last question, I am really curious why you chose the front line, the trenches.
Winston: I was stuck with the Grenadier Guards, who were all dry and drank only tea and condensed milk. Being a scotch man myself, and alcohol being permitted in the front lines, it was an obvious choice for me. I have a saying: “If you are going through hell, keep going”. Sometimes you need someone to remind you of that and for me, that someone is Johnny Walker.

Interviewer: Thank you for your time, I hope your adventures take a less dangerous path from now on.
Winston: Thank you, it’s good to be home.

8’th of May, 1900. Interview taken by Alex Petrisor.

Churchill fan? Tell us what you thought about this story then!

I had just woken up. Looking towards the western horizon, the sun was rising over a washed-up violet sky, blood-red lashes spreading around, reaching for the heavens themselves. As an unseen force guided my left arm towards my cellphone, I made an effort to get up, only to find myself in total darkness. “Is it finally over?”. I grabbed my cellphone tight, wondering what time it may be. It was then that I noticed that there was an unsent message in it, and that the time was 9. The message was: “All the people in this place will crash.”

It was starting to get dark. I knew I didn’t have much time left, at least that’s what she had told me. It was almost 6, and I was rushing towards my apartment, running like crazy on Lime street. My tie was dancing in the wind, and for a brief second the sounds it made slightly resembled her voice. I stopped in the middle of the crossroad, hundreds of vehicles booming their horns at me. Suddenly it all went away, and I was left with just the faint sound of the wind playing around with my tie.

I had to break the casual chain. That is why I ran away. That is why I had to find a way back home. It was already 3, so they were looking for me. If I didn’t hurry, all of this would have been for nothing.

The whole thing was happening over and over again. I was in the exact same place as I was a day before. On a bench, in a park, in front of a hospital. Doctors have diagnosed me with some sort of paranoid schizophrenia, continually claiming that I’m living in some kind of time loop. I was sick of the pills. It was almost 12. I had to start moving soon.

I wake up. The smell of blood is not so bad anymore. Losing my right arm was a small price to pay for saving myself. I wish I still felt the pain. The sun is gently heating up the eastern horizon, surrounded by a brilliant blue sky, just like her eyes. Stretching for my white robe, her voice kept whispering to me. In my right pocket, my cellphone was running low on battery. I had put it there out of obvious reasons, barely using it anymore. Making an effort and picking it up I carefully open it, as it was my usual morning ritual. 9 o’clock, and an unsent text message: “All the people in this place will crash.”

Her voice has been tormenting me all night long. Visions of a new world, a maelstrom of images and sounds swirled through my eyes when I finally woke up. Her words still lingering on my consciousness, I knew I had to write them down. I stretched my right arm, for it was a little dull. Reaching for my phone I started writing.

I hope that you’ve enjoyed my little story. If you find it confusing, try reading the paragraphs in reverse order.