Creative

Alone in my cell, 3 metres long and 2 metres wide, the ceiling above, as low as the tide, the tide I’ll never see for so many years.

Clearly you only have to nominate ‘time travel’ as the subject of a writing competition to get people thinking.

Time, for me, was at first just “the clock on the wall” at high school. When is lunch? When will this test finish? And when is home time?

Have you ever found yourself at the bottom of a well?

The decay of an atom indicates that time itself has passed, it is the origin of our concept of time.

Our time machine doesn’t take the form of a Tardis, or DeLorean, yet it does represent an equally large figure in pop culture and science fiction (at least those forced into hard labour on a mining planet colony usually got a spectacular view of the galaxy around them).

I am or “was” a journalist – I was tasked with documenting and reporting advancements in technology. Recently a form of time travel was discovered.

My record would be clean, I wouldn’t have hurt so many people, done so many burgs, or maybe I wouldn’t be raised by gangsters and by feds, but then who would I be?

It was late afternoon when he opened his eyes. The blanket of clouds had broken in several places, and beams of golden light planked the valley floor, illuminating the tops of the ruined buildings.

If you could travel in time, would you change anything? Or would you simply see for yourself how life has evolved? How far in time would you travel back or forward too?