|Photo courtesy National Park Service|
In retrospect, he admitted the lure of a Temporal Displacement holiday had been irresistible. To see actual trees and grass, to breathe air that didn’t need to be recirculated through a filter apparatus was something entirely foreign and forgotten to the people of his time. As the unfortunate result of rampant industrialization and the unrestrained exploitation of natural resources, this Yosemite place was a barren, irradiated wasteland in his age.
He’d driven the vintage vehicle, actually powered by internal combustion, through the displacement portal and arrived in the sylvan wonderland without incident. The devil, however, lay in the return. That was certainly not happening as promised. For the past two days he had returned to the extraction point and waited for the telltale shimmer of the vortex opening. It had not.
This story was written for the weekly Flash! Friday Fiction flash fiction challenge photo prompt. As an added challenge, the story was to include the element of time travel.