playing with idea’s :-)

Arthur found himself on the floor, the dust began to settle, he was disturbed by the strangeness of what had just happened, he didn’t know what had happened nor could he have explained what had just happened but he was still wearing his lab coat, the pen in his pocket continue to stab him from the point he had snapped off the clip. Pressing one hand into the dusty floor he pushed himself up onto his feet. Quickly brushing himself down lifting his hand to his brow guarding his vision against the falling sun, “evening?” he quizzed himself. Before him, sat a large wooden farm gate, closed and leading into and avenue rolling forward and curving out of sight towards the end, the road he stood on fell away to his left and right. taking a few steps forward ever alert he lifted the large mental catch which secured the gate. The gate was heavy, leaning on it he prising it open, he stepped forward before closing it as it was. The avenue was lined with large oak trees on either side, to his left beyond the oaks was a large field boarded by more fields which eventually rolled over a hill into a valley, the other side of the valley was just as sparse. He walked on down the avenue the gravel crunching beneath his shoes. To his right behind more oaks stood a hedge too thick to see through, he continued up the gravel lane until the bend where it met a wall and beyond that a wood. Reaching the corner of the avenue he following it left, the trees from the woods providing a canope. A large stone house sat staring at him. No car before it, the windows criss crossed with led, making his way up to the large wooden door he asked himself what he was doing, this unorthodox situation had placed him in a thoroughly odd position, a situation Arthur new he wasn’t familiar with. Standing before the door he turned about and retraced his steps speeding up until he returned to the oak tree’s. Sitting himself down at the foot of the first of these giant plants he crossed his legs and put his head in his hands. “think!” he pestered himself, “whats happened? Where was I? How could that have become this? What on earth am I doing in the middle of nowhere in the evening at the foot of a tree” he retraced his actions before the huge whoosh in the lab, he recalled the machine. He remembered typing the co-ordinates into the machine, he couldn’t remember what happened “did somebody hit me?” He couldn’t recall pain and his head felt fine, bumpless and efficient. He picked himself up, brushing the soil of his hands he removed his lab coat revealing his white cotton shirt and the tie his sister had give him for his 30th birthday. The sun was beginning to set and he new he must find somewhere to sleep and eat. Turning around he looked in the direction of the valley as the sun descended in the distance. He stared at it for a few moments, “the people in the house will have a clue whats going on. Perhaps I’ve been anesthetized and dumped here, I’m still alive” he looked down at his feet then drew his gaze down each arm assessing himself for damage. With his lab coat in his right hand he turned making his way down the graveled avenue, suddenly he remembered Georges watch in his pocket, George had removed it to get at a set of cables behind a metal sheet on the machine, making his last minute alterations he had passed it to Arthur before starting up the machine. Arthur reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew the old Breitling, twelve fifteen, not twenty minutes after the presentation, “hang on?” he stopped walking, the gravel crunched as he stopped. He was now rather confused, “twenty minutes?” Baffled he discarded the problem and began up the avenue now at a rapid pace, he began to worry about having to introduce himself and lucking like a strange deranged madman explaining the situation, he imagined an old swiss doctor or lawyer answering the door in braces. Approaching the door he wiped the small build up of sweat off his palms against his trousers just beneath the pockets. He stepped into the open porch and knocked against the old oak door desperately in need of a lick of paint. No answer, “sod” he looked around with his hands on his hips thinking, staring at the wall and into the woods he thought of moving on back to the main road before turning and knocking again, this time with insistent enthusiasm. The door opened casually and a small girl of about fifteen, with long dark hair and a pretty little pale face answered, dressed in an apron and a ridiculously long dress “yes?” she barked, he wondered if he had ventured upon a small sect of one of those cults you see in America, strangely lost in a by gone world. He looked at her for a while as she grew impatient, “yes?” she repeated. Alerted from his thoughts he apologized “ah your English” he replied in surprise, she stared at him now with a sense of intrigue “is your mother or father in?”
“I’m sorry, my mistress is out at present on business in London”
“mistress?”
“the Lady Gordon sir… are you lost?”

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