Read Online Timeless by Alexandra Monir - Free Book Online Page A

fell to the carpeted floor again, dizzy and weak.
    Clara stared down at Michele, her eyes wild.
    “What—who— who are you? ” she gasped. “Wherever did you come from?!”
    “I—what are you—” Michele could barely speak as shegaped at Clara. She looked frantically around the room. Every trace of modern life was gone. Michele’s desk, laptop, and iPod were all missing, and her toiletries on the vanity table had been replaced with funny-looking powders and thick hairbrushes. Instead of cars whizzing by outside the window, Michele could have sworn she heard the clip-clop of horses trotting up Fifth Avenue. What was this?
    Suddenly, a young woman burst into the room, her expression alarmed. She wore a maid’s uniform of a plain black dress with a starched white apron.
    “Miss Clara! What is it? What’s the matter?”
    Clara shakily pointed at Michele. “She—she appeared in my bedroom like an apparition! How did she get in here?”
    The maid frowned. “I don’t understand what you speak of, miss.”
    “Why her! The girl in the abominable clothing, right there!” Clara’s voice was hysterical.
    “Miss … nobody is there,” the maid said after a pause. She eyed Clara with concern. “Now, you’ve had a very strange and exciting day, and it’s to be expected that your imagination would run away with you after all that. It’s late. You must lie down and get some sleep before you have a fainting spell.”
    “You don’t … you don’t see her?” Clara asked, her voice rising higher in panic.
    “No, Miss Clara. There is nobody there,” the maid answered patiently. “Would you like me to bring you up some tea or warm milk to help you calm yourself? Perhaps some smelling salts?”
    “No … No, that’s quite all right, thank you,” Clara said,attempting to collect herself. “I’ll just be off to bed, then. You’re right. I must be feeling faint.”
    The maid gave her a reassuring smile. “Good night, miss. Ring the bell if you need anything. Rest well, and do feel better.”
    After the maid had shut the door behind her, Clara fixed her attention back on Michele, looking fearful. “Why could she not see you? Are you a ghost? Have I gone mad?”
    Michele pinched herself again, and the pain followed on cue. As she stared at the crystal clear scene in front of her, she felt her stomach drop further in alarm. Was it possible that she wasn’t hallucinating all this? But in what alternate universe could this be real?
    “What year is it?” she asked, though she was afraid she already knew what Clara’s answer would be.
    “Why, 1910, of course,” Clara replied, giving Michele an aggrieved look. “But please, what are you? What do you want with me?”
    Michele stared back at Clara, her mind whirring. How could she possibly have traveled back in time one hundred years? Why in the world had she been sent here? And how was she going to answer her terrified great-great-aunt? She couldn’t very well say, “Actually, I’m one of your relatives from the future. A hundred years in the future, to be exact.” So Michele said the first thing that popped into her head: “Yeah, I am, um, a ghost. My name is Michele.” After all, I’m not technically alive yet , she thought grimly.
    Clara let out a frightened moan.
    “No, I’m a good ghost. More like a spirit,” Michele hurriedly added. “You know, like Casper.”
    Clara looked blankly at her, and Michele realized that Casper the Friendly Ghost probably hadn’t been created yet.
    “What I mean is … I’m here to help you.” Michele thought this was possibly the dumbest thing she could have come up with, but to her surprise, the fear seemed to leave Clara’s eyes at these words, and she looked at Michele eagerly.
    “Did my mother send you?” Clara whispered, her face brimming with hope.
    “What? I—I don’t know,” Michele stammered.
    “I was just now praying for her to help me—or to send help for me,” Clara