Benjamin Bruce & The Tale of the Time-Traveling Pajamas | Sci-Fi

This flash fiction story was my first foray into the science fiction genre in college. It definitely has a younger tone to it, with a lot of vibes akin to things like the "Magic Treehouse" series. It was published in September of 2024 by Down in the Dirt magazine.

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Adventure log.

Now I’m in some kind of train station. I’m no closer to learning what exactly is happening, or how. Maybe I’m just dreaming.

Benjamin Bruce silently channeled his inner Bear Grylls while scanning his new surroundings. The station was an elaborate construction of lights and metal, bustling with people in slick jumpsuits and weird-looking goggles. Save for an old man on a bench, dressed plainly. He seemed almost out of place. Shiny robot clerks buzzed and whirred, completing transactions behind windowed counters. The air was steely and sterile. Trains travelled on rails suspended above them, like a roller coaster, blinking in and out of the station at light speed.

A holographic monitor beamed onto the wall beside Ben, listing a train schedule. In the top left corner, he found the date. The year was marked “3085.” Ben’s bedhead was half-matted as his fingers ran through it, stopping to grab two fistfuls of his curly red locks. His quickened heartbeat pounded in his ears. He could hardly catch his breath. Had he really travelled through time in his sleep? Or did he sleep for over a thousand years?

I remember putting on these pajamas and going to bed. I fell asleep, then I woke up here.

The pajamas came from Grandma Patty. “They used to be your father’s when he was your age, Benny,” she said. She had always encouraged Ben’s wild imagination. “Your father and I used to come up with so many fun stories, just like you and I do now.”

Ben often preferred to be anywhere but where he was. He wanted to be a cowboy, or a spaceman, or an explorer. Not some boring job like Mom and Dad’s. He dreamed of spaceships and dinosaurs. Now he could go anywhere, be anything he wanted—if only he could figure out how.

He poked the holo-screen, and the train schedule scrolled to the next page. At the top of the screen was a search bar. Ben started researching.

Adventure Log.

I’ve learned that time travel hasn’t been invented yet in 3085. Mankind hasn’t colonized Mars. Cars don’t fly. I thought the future would be way cooler than faster trains. But I guess that’s still cool. Dad would like them.

Dad. Dad’s dead in 3085. So is Mom. So is Grandma Patty. Everyone. Tears leaked from Ben’s eyes as they searched for a reason why he would want this. Why would he rather be here? He thought there would be Transformers or lightsabers in the future. He thought aliens would have visited Earth. But what Ben hated most about being stranded in the future, was that he was alone. Ben loved his movie nights with Mom and Dad. The scent of microwave popcorn wafting through the living room, bundled in soft blankets on the couch. Their cat, Cherry, in Ben’s lap. His favorite movie night was Jurassic Park. Dad told him about how they shot the movie, taught him about dinosaurs. Ben wanted to discover a new dinosaur species one day.

Ben peered through his fingers; his face buried in his cupped hands as he wept. A single flower sprouted up from between two metal plates beneath his feet. Then another, then three more. They dotted the entire station. Trees replaced pillars and beams. Boulders and bushes replaced benches and counters. The light speed train station of 3085 became a warm, humid, luscious landscape with red soil and bright, vibrant flora. Ben was shaded by enormous trees. The rustle of the ecosystem surrounded him.

Ben’s hands fell, and his eyes dried. He meandered the jungle, navigating vines and brush, the aroma of wildflowers ever present. He grazed his fingertips over wide green leaves so large and heavy they bowed down to meet him. Ben came to a cliffside, the red soil beneath his bare feet coarse, sunlight beaming down on him. He gazed upon the mesas between him and the horizon. There was a beach to the distant east. But was that—Is someone fishing at the shore? Ben rubbed his eyes. He was surely seeing things. Maybe it was a neanderthal, scrouging for a meal. Ben put the thought out of his mind. But then he heard the roar.

Rumbling grew from the ground at a slow, steady pace. It became stronger as it went along until a titanic prehistoric beast broke through the trees. The thing was monstrous, both scaly and furry. It’s hind legs massive and clawed. Two smaller front legs with paws. Its head was catlike. Ben came to view it like a mix of Cherry and a velociraptor. But bigger. Much bigger. The Cherryraptor – or Velocicherry, Ben couldn’t decide - pursued Ben through the jungle, between trees, and across a river. Ben’s heart burned of fear and exhaustion, but he dared not slow, for fear of what may become of him otherwise.

Adventure Log.

I escaped the cat lizard. My feet are killing me. I’m filthy, tired, scared. I miss my mom and dad. I want to go home.

Ben cried himself to sleep in a small cave he found behind a fallen tree. He dreamed of home. His cottage-style house with brown siding, the front window, the red door. The smell of the fireplace in the living room, hearing his mom in the kitchen preparing dinner. His bedroom, with blue-painted walls, checkered comforter, and his bookshelf. His wooden headboard that housed his favorite toys.

He dreamed of Mom and Dad. Fingerpainting with them, digging in sandboxes at the park. How their hugs felt, enveloped in their loving embrace.

Ben shot up from his bed, damp with sweat. He saw snow out the window. Was it snowing last night? He ran down the hall to the living room. A single old man sat in Dad’s recliner.

“Oh! My goodness, is today the day?” he said.

“What day?”

“The day I visited myself when I was your age.”

Right above the old man’s breast pocket was a badge.

The badge read: Ben.