This guy invented a machine, never ever seen by a human being. With this machine, he could travel through time. It remains to be seen. It was a weird, locked metallic bubble, with lights and buttons. If he pushed them, would there be fairytale or trouble? Well, he got locked in, put the seatbelt on, pushed the button, closed his eyes, and let it do its thing. Sparks ignited, flashes got brighter. It was shaking side to side. The guy got petrified. He gently opened one eye—was he still in the garage, or did it work? Did it make time fly by? He opened the door and looked around. He wasn’t home. His machine was stuck in the ground, surrounded by a scary sound. He pulled his head out just to see… what he saw would scare the shit out of me and the shit out of you. What he saw was wild warriors painted blue, screaming in a native tongue never heard by me, never heard by you. They didn’t understand what their eyes saw; they had never seen metal, only rocks and straws. They lifted their arrows and bows, aimed at the guy they didn’t know. He desperately pulled his head back in, pushed all the buttons, and with sparks and flashes beginning, he escaped with his life. He had enough. It shook and it shivered. Where he ended up now would seal his fate. Would he be home or in some other place, where there’s peace and familiar faces? But he was gone—gone without a trace. He gently opened the door again. What he saw was a gigantic dinosaur in pain, surrounded by carnivores. But when they saw the guy, he became the main course, with big teeth and eyes like the devil. It scared the shit out of him—he’d never seen anything that evil. He shut the door and frantically pushed every button. Sparks came suddenly, flames and smoke. He got thrown around and started to choke. The smoke made it impossible to breathe. He opened the door in disbelief. When the door opened, he could feel the heat. Around him was a desert, only sand. In the distance, he could see a caravan. They came his way. He was scared, he was broke, so he had to stay. He folded his arms and started to pray. The caravan came, but he didn’t understand what they said. They gave him some water and bread—they could have killed him, but they didn’t. He went back in the bubble and tried to push the button again. What happened was the same. After a while, he opened the door. He prayed he was home; he couldn’t take it anymore. What’s next? What fate awaits? He opened the door, he was in a room, walked out on a floor. From a distance, he saw grey, weird-looking beings. Where the hell was he now? He felt like fleeing. They spoke to him without words—they were aliens from a different world. He thought they were harmless. They were curious about the machine he brought. He explained, saying he had to find a way back home. But they explained he was in the future, and his world was gone. He had his machine, but they liked it. He got a bad feeling and got back inside. They tried to stop him, but he fought them off, pushed all the buttons, and was on his way. Where he ended up now was hard to say. With fire and sparks, he went on his way. When he opened the door again, what he saw was insane. He was in the Colosseum, in the middle of the rain. Gladiators in full battle stopped when he came in his time shuttle—they thought he was sent from the gods and bowed like he was a king. Now he had to stay. The machine stopped working. He was stuck in Ancient Rome, far from home. They thought he was a weirdo, but they also thought he was the god Apollo. He never got to go back home, but now he was a god… with a crown.
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