Somewhere in Time by Richard Matheson Read Free Book Online Page A

"
    It did happen here then!
    � � �
    The final chapter; on her death. I feel a crushing weight inside me.
    Quote: "She died of a heart attack in October 1953 after-"
    "-after attending a party at Stephens College, in Columbia, Missouri, where she had taught dramatics for a number of years."
    She and I were in the same location once before then. But at the same time.
    Why do I feel so strange?
    Her dying words are quoted. No one, says the author, ever understood their significance. "And love, most sweet."
    What does that remind me of?
    A Christian Science hymn. Except the words are: "And life, most sweet, as heart to heart, speaks kindly when we meet and part."
    Oh, dear God.
    I think I was at that party.
    I think I saw her.
    I'm having trouble breathing. There's a pulsing at my temples, at my wrists. My head feels numb. Did it really happen?
    Yes; I was there. I know it. It was after a play at Stephens. My date and I were at a party for the cast.
    And I recall her saying ... I can't recall her face or her name, yet I recall her words. . ..
    "You have an admirer, Richard."
    I looked across the room and ... there was an old woman sitting on a sofa with some girls.
    Looking at me.
    Oh, dear Lord, it couldn't have been.
    Why was that woman looking at me then?
    As if she knew me.
    Why?
    Was that the night Elise McKenna died?
    Was that old woman really her?
    I'm looking at the photograph again. Elise. Oh, God; Elise. Did I put that look on your face?
    � � �
    It's dark in my room.
    I haven't budged for hours.
    I just lie here staring at the ceiling. They'll cart me away in a basket soon.
    Why did I say it?
    Such things are impossible.
    I mean, I have an open mind and everything but- that?
    All right, she looked at me as though she knew me. I reminded her of someone, that's all. Of the man she'd known here.
    That's all.
    Then why, of all places in the state and country, did I end up here? Without a plan. By sheer caprice. A coin flip, for God's sake!
    Why in November?
    Why in the very week that she was here? Why did I go downstairs when I did? Why did I see that photograph? Why did it move me so? Why did I fall in love with her, begin to read about her? Coincidence? I can't believe it.
    I mean, of course, I don't want to believe it.
    Was it me?
    � � �
    I think my head's about to burst. I've been over it so many times I'm groggy.
    Fact: She came here with her company.
    Fact: She stayed here after they 'were gone.
    Fact: She didn't act for ten months after.
    Fact: She retreated to her farm.
    Fact: She looked completely different from the way she had.
    Fact: When she returned to work, she'd changed completely as an actress, as a person.
    Fact: She never married.
    From what place did you come to me? From what place?
    � � �
    Two oh seven a.m. No way to sleep; my mind won't shut down. Can't uproot the notion. It keeps growing, growing. If such a thing is possible at all, wouldn't it be most possible in a place like this? Because, in a place like this, part of the trip has already been made. I've felt the past inside me here.
    But can I totally regain it?
    Might as well turn on the light.
    I'm looking at her picture; I cut it out from the book. Prosecute me for defacing public property. Make the trial date soon, though.
    Lying here ... in this dimly lit room ... in this hotel... the sound of surf in the distance . . . her photograph in front of me . . . the infinite sadness of those eyes gazing at me. . . . ... I believe it's possible.
    Somehow.
    November 17, 1971
    Six twenty-one a.m. Headache pretty bad. Can barely open my eyes.
    Listening and relistening to what I said last night. Listening in the quote cold light of day unquote.
    I must have been insane.
    � � �
    Eleven forty-six a.m. Room service has just delivered my continental breakfast- coffee, orange juice, and blueberry muffin with butter and jam, and I'm sitting here, numb-headed, eating and drinking as though I were a normal fellow rather than a