I’ve finally done it, I’ve finally created the first working time machine. I can live my dream of seeing the dinosaurs. The last five years of my life were dedicated to building this machine. What should I name it? What about Epoch? Epoch sounds like a fitting name. Okay, Epoch, let’s try you out. I’ve been waiting for this day.

Anyway, let me set the machine to 200,000,000 BCE, so I can see what the world once was, a large central landmass where all the creatures coexisted. Okay, I’m turning on the machine. Why are my arms shaking? Why do I feel anxious? Okay... I have to do this.

Wyyyrrrr! I’m going in.

When I open the door, everything feels different. The air smells raw and ancient. The ground beneath my feet is cracked and covered with strange plants. The sky is huge and blue, endless. I hear the distant calls of massive creatures moving through the forests. The dinosaurs are real.

I step out carefully. I’m alone. Completely alone.

I feel excitement, but it’s mixed with fear. I check the machine, and something is wrong. The controls flicker, then go dark. My time machine has malfunctioned. I’m stuck in 200 million BCE.

I try to fix it, but the parts I have don’t work here. No electricity, no replacement circuits, only sticks, stones, and whatever nature has around me. I have to survive without tools.

Days pass. Each morning brings new dangers. I hear predators nearby. Storms come without warning. Every night, I lie beneath the strange stars and think of home, my mother’s laugh, my father’s voice. Their memories are a comfort, but they also remind me how far away I am.

I watch smaller dinosaurs. They’re cautious but curious. Over time, they begin to trust me. We communicate with simple actions, a fragile friendship in this wild, unknown world.

I face a choice. I can wait and hope for a miracle, or I can take a risk. Using sticks, vines, and stones, I try to fix Epoch. It’s dangerous. One wrong move could break the machine forever. But it’s my only chance.

I work carefully, connecting pieces the best I can. After a lot of hours, the machine hums to life again.

I hesitate. Should I try to go back? What if it breaks and I’m trapped here forever? But I think of home, and the future waiting for me.

I press the button.

Wyyyrrrr!

Time twists again, and I’m back. My room, the hum of machines, the faint smell of my mother’s cooking. I’m home.

I tell my parents everything, about the land, the dinosaurs, the survival. But they don’t believe me.

“You were gone for just a few days,” my father says. “Sounds like a dream.”

Maybe it was. Maybe no one will ever believe me. But I know what I saw.

I saw the world before time forgot it,

And that memory is mine alone.