Jumpscare

(I was busy last week, so this week I'll publish two a day. Hope you enjoy.)

Why do I harbor a particular dislike for Mozart all of a sudden? What the hell did I dream about last night!? 

Oh yeah. Unfortunately, it's too late. The nuclear genie is out of its proverbial bottle. And besides, while I'm willing to knock off a few people if it's necessary, I don't exactly want to kill the greatest minds of the time. 

It's the same with Hitler really, with some of the monsters that I've heard of that were in the Nazi Party. Who knows who could have come out of the woodwork? In fact, this was something I had thought about a lot. Even if I killed every Nazi I could think of in their sleep or by lacing a letter to them with VX, a second world war was still going to happen, since the German populace in general didn't believe they had lost the war. 

They believe that Jews and communists had backstabbed them. This, combined with the belief in the superiority of the German people and their own version of 'manifest destiny' being prevalent beliefs throughout large parts of Germany, meant that even if I prevented the war somehow, a similar conflict would have occurred, except this time the Nazis have nukes.

The Germans, Italians, and Japanese needed to be taken down a peg. Though I have to think of a way to help as many Jews and other persecuted groups escape Germany. And the Americans are not going to get away with trying to cover up the Japanese war crimes if I can help it.

I had genuinely thought about knocking off Stalin before Lenin had died a few months back, but then I remembered that Trotsky existed, and I really didn't want him in charge. Humans really do like romanticising the worst people sometimes.

It was kind of morbid, but the amount of death and suffering caused by the war meant that for the most part the next half a century was peaceful, well for Europe at least, let's ignore the millions who died due to 'ideological strife'. I mean, despite the constant tensions in the Cold War, neither side wanted the world to end, and the only times it really came close were either accidents or confrontations where both sides backed off. Though there has to be a way to stop the CIAxKGBxRandomAssCountry love triangle that for some reason kept getting sequels.

I checked my pocket watch and saw it was only just after four in the morning. Yeah, I'm going back to sleep; right after waking up is not the time to be having political debates. 

I was in that weird half sleep where one woke up early and was trying to get back to sleep when there was a knock on my door. It was around half past six, so I simply said, "One moment."

I slid my leg on and spent thirty seconds tightening the straps before sliding a vest and trousers on. Eh, that was enough. I walked over to the door while vowing to invest millions into cybernetics once computers came around and opened the door. 

I smiled seeing Evelyn. She then said, "Can I come in?" 

"Sure." I replied, backing away.

She shut the door behind her, and she was currently wearing an incredibly frilly white nightgown that left everything to the imagination. I had to focus on what she said since her half-asleep expression made her look like an angel. 

She then pointed a finger at me and said in a pouty tone, "You left me!"

"You know how tired I was." I said, "But I'm sorry. How did it go last night?" 

"Fine. It took only two hours of them constantly asking questions for Father to finally stop sharpening his cutlass from the Semantan War." She said in a mixture of resignation and amusement.

I paused for a moment trying to remember which it was and then paled upon remembering. Seeing my expression, she said, "Yeah, he hasn't unsheathed it since the Matabele War. You should be honoured."

"You mean they didn't…So, they liked me then." I said, changing what I was about to say, seeing her tense up and then pulling her into a hug upon realising I had brought up something she didn't want to remember, so I changed the topic at the same time. She flinched slightly as I touched her before realising it was me and relaxing slightly. 

She chuckled, and all of a sudden the negative atmosphere was now gone as she embraced me back for several moments and then took a few steps back. "I wouldn't say that they like you more... they have a begrudging respect for the fact I trust you."

"Oh, so they know I know." I said. 

She placed the back of her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter as she said, "Yes, and now you know they know you know."

"I see my efforts to corrupt you are paying off." I said, taking a step forward and lifting her chin up as I looked into her eyes, smiling. She twitched her lip in the same way I now recognised from the last time we kissed straight after graduation.

The coughing sound from behind me caused both of us to jump as I cursed internally since I almost just sucker punched the butler before I realised how he had just found us. 

Well, I'm dead. I didn't bring my bayonet.

"Lady Ashburn. Mr. Jameson. Breakfast will be served in ten minutes." said the butler before opening the door I was sure was closed and leaving. 

Damn Butlers and their no-clip exploits. I swear he's hacking.

"Your father is going to cut off my head…and then mount it on a pike." I said with a dreary tone.

She tried not to laugh as she said. "No, he prefers something more personal…like an orchiectomy." 

As is the natural thing, I was dressed appropriately within a few minutes and downstairs, while I had no clue how long she would be. Inside the dining room of the rather modest Victorian house was a man and a woman in their late forties. The woman was reading a newspaper while the man was standing by and looking out the window with a pair of binoculars.

"Darling…Have you seen that ghastly thing they have put up in the garden? It is unsightly. They should be lined up and… and shot, I say!" Said a man who was deeply interested in the affairs of those not his own, a familiar acquaintance for most, I'm sure.

The woman seemed to have silently sighed before responding, "And to which of our esteemed neighbours would you be referring, my dear?" said the woman in a completely neutral voice that said she was above such a trivial matter and that she would rather insist he drop this but won't force the issue, as she didn't even glance up from her paper.

The man seemed to brace himself as he barely squeezed out the name, "The…Cadbury's, Jemy. Obviously, the Cadburys."

I paused hearing the conversation as I took in the sight and said, "Good Morning."

"Morning. Did you perchance, sleep well?" asked Jemima Ashburn as she folded her paper and began to eat her food. As I took my seat, she said, "I do apologise if it is not to your liking, but I felt like a kipper this morning."

"No problem; I do love a good kipper, though the smell can tend to be a problem." I said, trying to reach over for the pot of tea when the at least a century-old Johnathan appeared out of thin air and poured. 

Mr. Ashburn then turned and looked at the butler before saying, "Johnathan, Where is Evelyn? It's been almost twenty minutes."

"She is still recovering from the embarrassment of oneself, finding the young miss embracing Mr. Jameson." He wheezed out before turning to leave. 

That gnarly bastard just smirked. I didn't quite see it, but I swear…I felt it.

Mrs. Ashburn was currently reading a letter, while her husband was currently sitting at the head of the table drinking a glass of orange juice while his eye twitched. He was clearly fighting the battle of his life to not turn his gaze to me. 

"To preempt a misunderstanding, I must insist that your daughter was simply wishing me a good morning and slipped. Naturally I had to stop her fall." I said to which I visibly saw her dad's shoulders unscrew themselves, though only partially.

I turned to see the butler, and he opened his mouth slightly, as if he was about to add that the door was shut when I glared at him. He actually smirked this time and then closed his mouth. 

"Would it be permissible for me to borrow your paper?" I asked. The Chronicler wasn't my cup of tea, but it would have to do. I both miss and love not having a mobile phone.

She smiled and said, "Certainly." before handing it to me. 

As Johnathan left the room, I said, "Do you know how old he is?"

"Unfortunately not; his doctor said that if the man were to find out, he might pass from the shock of it, though I do recall him losing both lungs in the Crimea." She said, 

That makes as good a sense as any, I suppose. Though it seems she has a sense of humour. Wait, what? I swear my brain just lagged. Wasn't the Crimean War in 1854? If he was a teenager. 

I turned to look at the now-empty door and realised that made him at least ninety, maybe a hundred. Okay, my plots to kill him are unnecessary; a loud bang would probably do the trick.

My brain once again seemed to not be working properly as Evelyn entered the room. She had decided to grow her hair out, and it currently lay just above her shoulders as she wore a yellow dress.

After the obligatory greetings and whatnot. She said, "Mother, have you changed your hair?"

"No, not recently. Why?" the woman said, continuing to read a letter that was like one of twenty stacked on the corner of the table. 

Evelyn had that smirk on her face that meant, 'I'm going to cause trouble.' Her father seemed to be aware of it as he grimaced and got up to continue tutting at the neighbours. 

"Oh no, it's nothing. I simply saw a picture of Miss Potter yesterday with the same style," she said before Johnathan poured milk into her cereal. I had to bite my cheek so hard I was genuinely afraid I might draw blood as I began to cut another piece of my kipper. 

I glanced at Mr. Ashburn and saw a reflection of him smiling while failing to stop his chest from rapidly jerking as he silently laughed. His wife, on the other hand, suddenly had her eye stop roaming back and forth like a typewriter and pause for a moment before she looked up at her daughter and said in a low tone, "You are never to mention that Vixen or her books in this house again. Is that clear?"

I so wanted to say something funny about a certain puddle duck but refrained from doing so since it was obviously a sore spot for Evelyn's mum. 

"Damn Quakers!" Evelyn's father shouts out of nowhere. No one but me reacted.

His wife once again sighs and says in a defeated tone, "What could it possibly be now…my…dear…husband?"

He seemed to ignore her as he stormed out of the dining room ranting about having to write to the chamberlains. It just dawned on me, their damn Unitarians. 

Quakers and Unitarians are both groups of the English upper middle class and lower upper class who believe in things like philanthropy, creating good quality jobs, and social reform but, of all things, hated each other. The only difference being that Quakers believed in staying out of politics, like the Cadbury, Lloyd, Barclay, and Rowntree families, while the Unitarians often were in politics, like the Chamberlain, Taylor, and Francis families. That's not the only thing, though; I think it had something to do with whether they believe God is a united figure or a trinity. I'll have to do some reading since I can't remember much more than that no matter how long I ponder on it.

I never really bothered with the Bible, but after reincarnating, no merging. Still haven't firmly decided on a name for it. I gave the Bible a read, and I'm pretty sure it doesn't say anything about God being either. Doesn't matter; I'm not going to get involved in doctrinal debates. 

Damn it, that reminds me. Russell is already dead. There is nothing I can do to stop it. The scourge will spread and continue to herald Christ's presence.