Future Past

Here’s this week’s post for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner.  Photo-prompt, plus the following first line: We were within a mile-and-a-half of the service roads when we found it

 

Future Past

“We were within a mile-and-a-half of the service roads when we found it,” Chris said.

Dr. Miller looked at the small, featureless tin box. “You’re absolutely certain? You pulled this box out of the ice that we’ve dated at over a thousand years old?”

“Yessir. It makes no sense.”

“Thanks, Chris. You may go.”

Hands trembling, he prepared to open the box. He traced fingers along the seam and hinge, brushing remnants of ice away. Miller had seen this box before. It was identical to thousands just like it, but this one was special. He knew what he’d find in it.

He considered the science he used to pursue… Back before anthropology became his focus. The experiments in temporal physics… experiments that had cost him both wife and daughter.

He opened the box.

A moan escaped his lips. Part of him knew what he’d find: a child’s necklace; thin chain and small pewter unicorn with its ivory painted horn. Knowing what was there made it hurt no less. Next to it was a folded piece of paper, ink bleeding through.

A shiver unrelated to the cold trickled down his spine as he began to read.

“Dear Papa…”