Edith Keeler Must Die

Tires punctured. Years of history escaping dormant thighs. Lost. Fingers like matchsticks. Scrape to sparks, but are unable to ignite.

She was to die that day. If our future was correct.

We gathered our notes. Poring over the evidence. Trying to convince the world that we had been. Songs underwater. Touch in the vacuum of space. It didn't matter what future we wanted. The apple had already fallen.

The witch had been cooking for too long.

The world spinning on a pottery wheel. Every one's hands shaping the clay. The windows to her back inhaling. The prevalent cancers of when. The paradox was slow to catch up. With the mechanics of zealous men.

There is no lonely when there is no one to want. There are no buttons on time machines. Just a single switch. On or off. Go or don't. You'll change everything. Or you'll change nothing. You'll never know unless you leave.

But wherever you happen to end up.

Always remember.

She mustn't be saved.