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Saturday, June 27, 2015

The Truth Revealed

         An Important Notice to Readers...

     Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience.  Please be advised.

Thank You,

The Author

She Who Was All explains the facts

        Beckett looked up at the Fairy Queen, his face void of any emotion.  "Things did not go exactly as planned, your Majesty."  He let it go at that, offering no explanations, making no excuses, and looking her straight in the eye, added, "And if I may, my Queen, I'd very much like to continue this conversation in an upright position."

         She Who Was All stared back at him, pursing her lips in a tight line, and then with a wave released the three of them from their frozen posture.  "The charm of your confident insolence will only take you so far, Ridre Dubh.  The girl lies upstairs, fighting for every breath, and this boy..", she pointed a long painted nail at Ian asleep on the sofa, " trapped in a time and place not his own."   She fluttered down, and perched herself on the knight's soldier.  "In addition, two lives no longer exist in the past, the consequences that will result impossible to imagine. Did I not warn you against disrupting the natural order of things?  It is unknown at this point how much damage your carelessness will cause."

         Maureen slipped off the sofa, coming to her husband's aid.  "Excuse me, Madame Fairy...but this is not Ted's fault.  He was only trying to rescue me.  Those red coats meant us harm.  One of them was attempting 'force' himself on Roxie and..."  She suddenly went silent, her mouth moving but no words escaping.

        "It is only natural for you to defend your mate, Nymph.  But I will not be questioned.  Ridre Dubh must take responsibility for his action.  It is his call to honor.  He must do all that is possible to make amends to those who have been harmed under his watch."

         "I take full responsibility, Your Majesty.  I have seen to the girl's medical needs, and have been assured she will fully recover.  If you will kindly explain to me what I can do to return the young man back to his time, then I will see it done."

         Next to him, Maureen violently shook her head her no, her eyes wide, but without the ability to speak.

         The Queen laughed, a sound similar to the tinkling of tiny wind chimes.  "It seems the Nymph takes issue with you foraging in the past."  She flew over to the top of Maureen's head, and gave it a condescending pat, as one might a favored pet.  "She is strong willed, this one.  The royal line flows deep in her, but she is need of constant guidance.  The Nymph has given us much to fret over in her short years, but the blood line must be preserved at all costs."

         It was Fr. Kevin's turn to blurt.  "Blood line?  I'm not sure I understand, Your Majesty.  What does my sister have to do with any royal blood line?"

          From her perch on Maureen's head, the tiny fairy examined the faces of the three humans, peering intently at each of them.  " you really don't know, do you?  I would have thought the clurichaun might have explained all this to you, Servant of the Creator.  It seems I am wrong.  He has told you nothing in hopes of keeping your life serene and simple, but that is now impossible."

           She left Maureen and floated back to her spot on the mantle. "It is time you knew the truth.  You are no longer children, and nothing can be served by allowing you to wander through life misinformed."  She turned and spoke directly to Fr. Kevin.  "Are you not curious as to why you see things unseen by others?  Surely you have noticed your sensitivity to all things living?  Your openness to the clurichaun's presence in your life?"

            The Queen turned her attention to Maureen.  "And you, Nymph...have you not felt the pull of the Fae since you were but a wee child?  The times you sat in the grass searching for us among the flowers of your Grandmother's garden?  The others would tease your youthful imagination, but deep down, you knew we were truly there.  Surely you have felt the rumblings of your blood line?  The times you knew things before they happened?  The energy that flows through your hands when you create?  The empathy you also share with all things living?"

            Maureen came over and sat next to Kevin, and grabbed his hand for support. "Are you saying, Your Majesty, that Kevin and I...that the two of us...have a Fae blood line?  That hardly seems likely.  There are eight of us in the family.  We're no different from anyone else."

            "Do not be simple, girl!  Not just an ordinary Fae blood line.  That would have died out centuries ago, as things with humans often do.  Of course you are different!  Special, in fact. You carry royal blood,  the two of you, one that is over a thousand years old,  passed on from generation to generation.  Your red hair marks you amongst the rest of your clan. You are two of a very small group that exists today, and we wait hopefully for the offspring you will produce."

         She pointed a finger at Kevin, and he cringed in response, waiting for some type of retribution, but all he felt was an overwhelming sense of disappointment.  "It seems the Creator has claimed you for His own, and though we are saddened by the loss of the bloodline, we bow to His decision as all-knowing and wise.  Who are we to question the Power that keeps the planets moving in the sky?  It is our deepest wish now to see the line passed on through the Nymph."  She Who Was All leaned back, her wings fluttering oddly against the plaster Last Supper, and sighed. "Their was much grief among us at the loss of your last child.  The blood line was strong in the boy child who returned to the Creator.  We await another."

         Throughout her explanation, Beckett had remained thin lipped and silent, but if Fr. Kevin was as observant as he thought, his brother-in-law had gone a few shades paler at the information.  The Fairy Queen took notice, and aimed the next directive at him.  "And you, Ridre Dubh...surely you must know that your union with the Nymph was not left to chance.  There are those who would see the Human-Fae bloodline extinct, noting it unnatural and unwelcome.  We still trust your ability to keep the Nymph safe, despite the incident that almost cost her life, as well as the life of your child.  We shoulder some of the blame for not revealing this information sooner.  Still, we believe your skewed sense of honor, as well as your natural desire for the Nymph, will suit our purposes nicely."

            Again, there was no response from the Sheriff, though there was a definite stiffening to his jaw, and just the slightest flush of pink at his ears.  She Who Was All laughed again, the tinkling floating across the room, but strangely not waking the sleeping Ian.  She lifted herself from the mantle, and flew down to land on his shoulder again.  "This, of course, does not release you from your commitment to me, Ridre Dubh.  You will remain in my service, as agreed upon, until the birth of your first living male child, with or without the royal bloodline."  The Queen gave his ear a pinch, and added, "My hope is the Creator will bless the two of you with a long line of beautiful girl bairns."  She giggled, and slid down his arm, landing on the ottoman next to Fr. Kevin's desk.

              "This, my dear human subjects, brings us to the problem of the young man slumbering away on the divan.  He, of course, can not stay here in the wrong place and time.  The Creator has firm rules about us tampering with the time continuum, and I shall not risk His disapproval over your mistakes, Ridre Dubh."

               Beckett cleared his throat.  "I suspect that my Queen has the ability to send him back.  I would be most grateful for your assistance in the matter."

               "I'm sure you would, my Knight, though you have learned that Fae magic comes with a price.  I shall add this to your growing list of debts.  Now, let us see what the young man has to say."

           She snapped her fingers, and with a shudder and a yawn, Ian sat up on the sofa.  He looked around the room, momentarily confused over his current state, and when he saw the tiny fairy standing on the ottoman, he rose up and took a step backward, banging into the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, swearing under his breath, and making both the sign of the cross, and the hex against the evil eye.

            "Holy Hell, I find myself in the clutches of Beelzebub for sure!"

             She Who Was All raised an eyebrow, and with the curl of a finger brought the frightened man to a kneeling position in front of the ottoman.  "I am hardly the likes of the Evil One, human, and you take great risks in saying his name aloud.  Your friends have enlightened you on the place and time you find yourself?"

             "Aye, Ma'am."

             "You shall address me in the manner, I deserve, human.  I answer to 'Your Majesty'.

             "Aye...Your Majesty.  It seems I have somehow magically travelled into the future, to the Year of Our Lord, 2015."

              "You understand that you do not belong in this time and this place, and therefore must return to wheres you came."

              Ian looked down at the floor, and then to the others in the room, before answering.  "If it is all the same to you, Your Majesty, I'd rather stay.  It appears I have lost my heart to Miss Roxanne.  If this is her time and place, then I'd much rather stay here, and see if she will have me."

               The silence in the room was deafening, and for several seconds, no one said a word.  The Fairy Queen stared hard at the kneeling man, as if she were looking through him.  Then she spoke.  "It is decided then.  He speaks the truth.  He is in love with the girl, and will not leave if there is the slightest chance that she returns his feelings."

               Ian's proclamation of love toward Roxanne hit Fr. Kevin square in the gut, making him suddenly queasy.  In his best priestly voice of calm logic, he interceded.  "But surely, Your Majesty, we can not keep Ian from his assigned destiny.  Though I sympathize with his plight, it is simply impossible for him to in Dollyville.  In the 21st Century.  It's...well...just not right. It's crazy, in fact."

              She narrowed her eyes at Kevin.  "The Creator has given all of us...all sanctioned beings...the gift of Free Will.  It is His Holy Way.  This young man's soul is true.  He does not wish to return to the past, and I can not force him to do so against his Will.  You of all people should understand this.  Is not Free Will a truth among your kind?"

              Fr. Kevin stuttered over the words, acknowledging the truth, but panicking none the less.  "Yes, it's something we believe in.  An important tenet of our faith. But this unusual circumstance.  Surely there is something you can do?  What in the world are we going to do with someone from 1775?"

             "That, my dear human, is your problem."  And with that, she disappeared, leaving an overpowering scent of roses, and the four people in the room stunned.

Copyright Victoria T. Rocus 2015
All Rights Reserved


Saturday, June 20, 2015

Greetings from the North Woods of Minnesota!  Home to beautiful, shimmering lakes, towering pines, and...sketchy, frustrating Internet!😒  Need to take a week off and enjoy the awesome beauty of God's creation.  Hope you'll join me on June 27th to see what's going on with Fr. Kevin, Beckett, Ian and the rest.  As always, I'm grateful for the continuing support.


Saturday, June 13, 2015

No Place Like Home

                 An Important Notice to Readers...

     Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience.  Please be advised.

Thank You,

The Author

Kevin and Ted pick up where they left off
         He'd been home less than an hour, Patrick safely on his way back to Boston, when she came bursting through the door, out of breath and red faced, the ankle bandage unwrapped and trailing behind her like a tail on a kite.

       "Kevin!  It's me!  I'm back!"  She threw herself into his arms, half weeping, half laughing, wrapping arms around him with total abandon.  "I'm me again...really me...Oh thank you, Jesus!"

       It took a nano-second or two for the realization to sink in.  This was his sister.  This was Maureen. Truly back in the body she was born with, and no longer sharing head space with Rachel Revere. He hugged her back, the two of them dancing around the rectory parlor with total abandon, celebrating the oddest of family reunions, until both remembered the ordeal was far from over.

         "The others?  Ted and Roxanne?  Have they traveled back?"

          She shook her head, anxiety replacing the joy of the moment.  "No.  Ted sent me first.  Said he wasn't going anywhere until he knew I was safe and sound in my own body.  They were going to set their spell as soon as he was sure I'd made it back."  She grabbed at the end of his jacket, wringing the linen in her hands as she spoke.  "What if they don't make it, Kev?  What if the spell doesn't work, and there stuck back in time?"

           The same thought was running through his head as well.  He was no expert on fey magic, but was pretty sure it didn't come with guarantees.  It was the last thing she wanted to hear, and so he did his best to remain optimistic.  "We have to have faith, Mo.  Beckett seems to make things happen.  They'll be here shortly, all in one piece. I'm sure of it."

           "You don't understand, Kev.  Roxanne was hurt when I left.  Shot by a red coat soldier.  She looked pretty awful. What if..."

           The news hit him in the gut, knocking the wind out of any attempt to pacify his sister.  "Shot?  Damn it, Maureen!  Beckett promised me there'd be no blood shed!  No change in the time line!  How   the hell did he let this happen?"

           She pulled away from him, moving from fear to anger.  "Don't you dare blame my husband for this, Kevin O'Kenney!  He and Roxie risked their lives to save me!  It just happened.  It was no one's fault.  Those were dangerous times in American history.  You have no idea what it's like...trapped in some weird body, some time not your own.  It's like living a nightmare!"

        Fr. Kevin wanted to counter the argument.  Explain to her that he knew exactly how it felt.  But a change in the room suddenly put an end to the discussion.  The air around them seemed to thicken like fog that wasn't there, and the hair on their arms and head rose in static electricity.  There was the acrid smell of something burning, the odor reminding him of the times he and his father would burn fallen leaves in autumn, and the temperature in the room rose several degrees despite the air conditioning running at full blast.

          From nowhere in particular, Beckett just appeared, landing on the parlor rug in front of the fireplace with a thump.  He was unconscious, but a quick check of his pulse revealed he was alive and well.  Before they could further attend to him, there was a flash of light, and Roxanne materialized, unconscious as well, her complexion a chalky gray color, her lips an unnatural shade of purple. For a second, Fr. Kevin couldn't move, stunned by her awful appearance, thinking, but not wanting to believe, she had slipped the bonds of earthly life. It was Maureen who sprang into action, checking her pulse, and tucking a few sofa pillows under her legs to raise her feet.

           " upstairs and grab a blanket off the bed.  She's colder than ice.  We need to warm her up.  I think she's in shock."

             He did as asked, racing up the stairs, mouthing a hundred prayers for the girl he'd loved but couldn't have, making countless deals with God on her behalf.  He pulled the blanket off his bed and charged down the stairs, almost tripping and falling as the ends tangled about his feet.  He knelt next to Roxanne as Mo tucked the blanket around her, grabbing a limp hand in his, willing her to live.
She was breathing, but each puff of air was labored and raspy.

            "We need to call an ambulance, Maureen!  She's in bad shape."

            Still flat on his back, it was Ted who answered.  "No ambulance.  Too many questions."

           Even half conscious, Beckett was still calling the shots, and his self-appointed leadership rankled Kevin.  "Don't be ridiculous, Ted.  She's seriously injured.  We need to do something, and we need to do it now!"

            Beckett pulled himself up to a sitting position, leaning his back against the fireplace.  "I'll handle it, Kevin.  Trust me on this.  There's no way we can explain an eighteenth century musket ball in her chest to the authorities.  You'll rain all kinds of trouble down on us.  Get me my cell phone."

            Fr. Kevin tore himself away from Roxanne, trying to remember a time he hated the man more, and failing.  He rummaged through the desk drawer for the cell phone Ted had given him for safe keeping before he left, and tossed it towards his brother-in-law.   "If she dies, Beckett, I'm holding you responsible."

           Ted narrowed his eyes.  "Is that a threat, O'Kenney?  Because I'm not really fond of threats."

           He had a million answers for the man, a litany of things he needed to say to the self-important bastard.  But for that moment, he never got the chance.  There was a rumble in the room, a small flash of light, and the appearance of yet another male body, this one also unconscious, and like the others, dressed in the attire of colonial Boston.  There was dead silence in the room.  Maureen looked to her husband, and put a hand to her forehead, and even Beckett seemed caught off guard with nothing to say.

            Fr. Kevin looked at them both, shock and anger reigning.  "Okay...which one of you wants to explain to me why there's an extra person lying on the floor of my parlor?"


         The next three hours was a circus, confusion and disbelief being the main attractions under the Big Top that Holy Family rectory had become.  As he claimed, Beckett was able to take care of Roxanne's medical needs.  Who he called, where they came from, Kevin didn't know.  But a whole team of medical personnel quickly descended upon his home, whisking Roxanne to the bedroom, and setting up an impromptu surgical unit.  They spoke to no one except Ted, and when they finished their work, left silently in the same manner they arrived, leaving behind a single nurse to monitor her recovery.

           Crazy as it seemed, Roxanne's injuries were the easiest problem to fix.  As it was explained to him, the young man on the floor was one Ian Sawyer, a colonial Patriot and neighbor to the Revere's, who had accidentally been caught up in the spell Beckett and Roxanne had used to return home.  Once again, the how and whys of things had been conveniently left out, and Fr. Kevin could get no solid explanations on how Mr. Sawyer had gotten involved in the first place.

            Truth be told, the gentleman had awoken on the floor of the rectory in a state of complete terror and confusion, and it was nearly impossible to feel anything but pity for him.  He seemed to have recognition of only Ted, though he repeatedly asked about the condition of 'his' Miss Roxanne.  The man's use of the possessive pronoun regarding Roxie raised questions in Fr. Kevin's mind, but it seemed he'd have to wait to get clarification on a number of issues, as Ian was in no shape to be interrogated.  He had not managed the side effects of fey magic as well as Ted or Maureen, and was still shaky on his feet, dizzy and nauseous, hours after his arrival.

        The three of them had taken turns trying to explain to the poor man all that had transpired, and he was, understandably, disbelieving and panicked of the whole idea.  It took a copy of the day's newspaper, the date boldly printed at the top of the page, for him to even begin to wrap his head around the fact that he had traveled nearly 250 years into the future.  Afterwards, he spent the next twenty minutes throwing up into a bucket, until exhausted, he fell asleep on the rectory sofa.

         With both Roxanne and Mr. Sawyer attended to and resting comfortably,  Fr. Kevin stated the obvious.  "You know he can't stay here.  Here in the future.  He has to go back."

          " shit Sherlock.  It's not like we planned for this to happen, O'Kenney.  He came out of nowhere.  We were in the middle of the incantation, and he just...well...dived at us.  Apparently the contact was enough to send him along with Roxanne and I.  It suppose it's lucky he ended up here, and not lost in time some where, all by his lonesome."

          "Lucky?  Not lucky at all.  Now he's our problem."

           Maureen, who had been unusually silent since her return, gave him a punch to the upper arm.  "What a rotten thing to say, Kevin.  Ian is a vey nice man.  He just wanted to help us.  If it weren't for him, well...we'd probably not have gotten home as quickly as we did.  It was his idea to hide us in the barrels.  He took enormous risks transporting us to the travel site.  And in return, you wished he'd be lost someplace in time, all alone?  I'm surprised at you, Kev.  Where's your sense of gratitude and compassion."

            She was right, of course.  He owed the strange man from 1775 a debt of gratitude he probably couldn't pay back.  But she was surely missing the point.  Ian Sawyer had a destiny in his own time.  By taking him out of that life, they had altered the time line of events to come, a ripple effect they couldn't even begin to imagine.  "I'm sorry, Mo.  I don't mean to sound harsh, but you have to realize the damage that's been done.  We have to figure out how to get him back...the sooner the better."  He looked at Ted, who sat in an armchair, head back, eyes closed, seemingly unbothered by the whole
catastrophe.  "You...Black Knight...Mr. "I'm in Charge of the Whole Damn Universe" any ideas?"

              He opened one eye, and then closed it again.  "No, Fr. Obvious, I do not know how to send him back.  You people seem to attract all this supernatural bullshit.  It was your damn watch that started this whole mess.  You figure it out."

             The snappy comeback never left his lips.  The lights in the room dimmed, and there was the over powering smell of roses, cloying sweet and somehow dangerous.  She appeared without much fan fare, simply making herself known in her favorite spot on the fireplace mantle, her anger a living thing of its own.  One minute Beckett was sitting in the chair, the next minute he was on his knees in front of the fireplace, unable to move a single muscle.  He and Maureen found themselves in similar positions, stuck to their seats in fairy rigor mortis, and for once, he was content to let Beckett do all the talking.

              "I see you have returned, Ridre Dubh, your beautiful bride along with you.  Now explain to She Who Is All, the damage you've done."
He's got some explaining to do

Copyright Victoria T. Rocus 2015
All Rights Reserved






Saturday, June 6, 2015

Bon Voyage and Happy Landings

  An Important Notice to Readers...

     Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience.  Please be advised.

Thank You,

The Author

Homeward Bound

               The rocking of the wagon and the over powering scent of ale worked together to lull her into a semi-conscious stupor, which wasn't a half bad feeling.  It took the edge off the burning pain in her chest, and almost made her forget her arm from shoulder and beyond had lost any feeling.  She fought through the fog, willing herself to stay alert.  They were depending on her to find the right spot.  It had been easier the last time.  The bank had been there in the same spot when she and Kevin had traveled from 2014 to 1849, and then back again.  Here in 1775, it didn't yet exist, so it was up to her to locate it's future position adjacent to Long Wharf.

               Of course, that only mattered if it was the ground that gave power to the watch, as she believed, and not the building itself.  After her own experience, she had spent weeks researching possible causes, and had come across a series of articles and journals on the power of ley lines that stretched across the earth.  It was believed that these supposed intersection of points were humming with spiritual and mystical power in the same vein as Chinese feng shui.  Most of the research had centered on points in Europe, mainly those in Great Britain, but she had been able to track down a few obscure studies on ley lines in North America and hadn't been shocked in the least to find that several of them were located on the US East Coast, with Boston and the Cape Cod area claiming two of the most powerful.

               As crazy as it might seem to the uninitiated, it made perfect sense to her.  Gave reason to the strange man they had encountered at the bank, the power the watch had at certain points including the bank and Kevin's rectory, and the presence of the fey in the little town of Dollywood.  She had concluded right then and there that the invisible ley lines were a force needed to be reckoned with and understood, and when they returned home, she must relay this information to those she held closest and could trust not to send her packing to the psychiatric hospital.

              Until then, she needed to stay conscious.  Purpose in mind, she shifted herself inside the barrel, putting pressure on her chest.  The pain was immediate, a hot poker of heat that went through her entire torso, and any thought of sleep was completely erased.  The pace of the wagon slowed, and through the outside noise of the bustling city, she could faintly make out a low humming sound of the watch somewhere inside Maureen's barrel.  It signaled to her that they were moving in the right direction, and if all went well, this nightmare experience would soon be over.


          While events unfolded, Fr. Kevin was pretty sure he was in the presence of a Master Manipulator.  He couldn't quite say how Mrs. Revere had outwitted his brother, Patrick, into agreeing to a new set of plans, only that she had done so without him being any wiser to the strangeness of the situation.  She had concocted some story about needing to remain at home to help with the church rummage sale, and insisted would gladly make plans to return to Boston, watercolors in hand, the following week.  She chatted pleasantly about plans to visit the family, who she would see, what they would do, and by the time he was ready to leave, had managed to convince Pat this change of dates had been all his idea in the first place.

           As he walked Patrick downstairs to his waiting taxi, Kevin secretly shook his head over his brother's clueless foray into the logic that marriage to Beckett had surely been the best thing that had ever happened to their sister.

          "I'm telling you, Kevin.  I know you had your doubts about this marriage working out, but you have to admit, since she's patched things up with Ted, it's almost like she's a different person. So calm and reasonable.   Yup...I do believe our Red has become a sensible, mature woman.  Seems I can finally breathe a sigh of relief over her well being."

            Having nothing to say in return, and not wishing to lie, Fr. Kevin nodded, his fingers crossed behind his back, a prayer in his heart for the safety of all three of the travelers.


            The wagon came to a complete stop, and she could her the others escaping the confines of their barrels.  After a few attempts, she could not get her body to move in the direction it needed, and so she waited until someone came to her aid.  It was Ian's face she saw first, and despite her overwhelming exhaustion, her heart did a little flip at the sight.

           "We've arrived, Miss Roxanne.  Do you need help getting out?"

           The words didn't want come, breath being in short supply, and so she just nodded her agreement.  He stuck two hands into the barrel around her waist and gave a tug, but her shoulder caught on the rim, and she gasped in pain.

             "Lordy!  I'm sorry, Ma'am. I didn't mean to cause you pain.  We may have to try another way."

              He walked off, and she panted in deep, raspy breaths.  The tiny movement had caused so much pain, it wasn't something she wanted to try again, yet knew she must.  She began counting backwards from one hundred, anything to take her mind off the blazing fire in her upper torso.  She had just rounded off the 80s when Beckett's face appeared at the top of the barrel.

             "How are you holding up, Deputy?"

             "I'm afraid not well, Sir.  My seems to be hung up on the rim, and I can't seem to be able to move it at all."  The words came out choppy, a long breath in between each syllable.

               Beckett reached a hand down to her neck to take a pulse, and though he tried to remain poker faced, she could see the turned down expression, and the look of concern in his eyes.  "Hang on a bit longer.  We're gonna have to try something else to get you out."

              She could hear only bits and pieces of conversation, the two men and Maureen debating the situation.  Shortly, she felt the entire barrel lifted off the wagon and laid on the ground, and she gritted her teeth through each rock and roll of movement.  Then, there was the groaning sound of wood against metal, as the ribs were separated from the rim.  As more were pulled away, she could make out her surroundings, a wooden warehouse of sorts, daylight streaming through the wooden slats of the walls, and she fought to stay conscious.

               By this point, the humming had grown louder, and the men worked frantically to remove enough wooden ribs to free her, though Ian seemed oblivious to the sound.  Once they had done so, Beckett lifted to her a standing position, and though she swayed on her feet, she was able to remain upright.

               Beckett leaned in close to her ear, and whispered, "We are as close to the spot you suggested, while still remaining hidden, Deputy.  Do you think we can try from here?  I need for Mr. Sawyer to not be involved.  It would be much better if he did not witness...things of a... supernatural nature.  Once we leave, he needs to forget about us and move on with his life.  We've done enough damage to the time line already."

            She nodded, the realization that in the next few minutes, if all went according to plan, she would never see Mr. Ian Sawyer again.  It added a whole additional level of pain she didn't want to think about.  Things would be as they would be.  Maureen needed to return to her own body, she and Beckett to their own time and space.  She would sort out her life when this was all over, and Ian Sawyer would remain just a bittersweet special memory.

      "Can you hear the humming, Sir?  I think this spot will work.  Maureen needs to hold the watch and concentrate on her life back home.  There's little else we can do, except stand back back and watch. I'm guessing we'll know soon enough if it's worked."

            "Agreed.  Let me get Mr. Sawyer out of harms way, and then we'll proceed.  Can you stand on your own?"

             "I think so, Sir."

             He handed her a rib from the broken barrel, shoving one end into the soft dirt.  "Lean on this if you feel dizzy.  I'll try and speed this up as much as possible."

             She watched him go over and speak to Ian.  She could see the uncertainty in the man's face, and then the look of resignation.  The two men shook hands, and with a sad wave to her, he grabbed the reigns of the horse and led them and the wagon outside, closing the large wooden door behind him.  Turning her face away so the others wouldn't see, she wiped at the few tears that had escaped from the corners of her eyes, and concentrated on staying conscious.


             Ian Sawyer was a Patriot, and those who knew him best, knew he'd do whatever was necessary for the cause.  If Paul and Rachel Revere were good and trusted friends, then by connection, so were others who were in their freedom circle.  If Ted Walker asked for his help, then it should be supplied without the slightest hesitation.  There was no doubting the frame of logic.  Still, the sight of Miss Roxanne Walker, wounded and ill, barely able to stand on her own, haunted him.  She had captured his interest the moment he had laid eyes on her, even when he thought her to be a young, simpleton boy, a fact that had caused him much angst.  He had never in his life thought himself to be a poof, a fancier of buggery, and the thought they he might have such tendencies horrified him.  The realization that she was really a woman came with such overwhelming relief he had almost gotten down on his knees then and there to thank God Almighty that he was the man he always thought he was.

        Now, the idea that she was in need of help and he was unable to assist her was unacceptable.  He had followed Mr. Walker's plan to a certain point, and had taken leave of the warehouse when asked.  But if there was any chance that the plan to exchange information vital to the cause might go wrong, he had no intention of leaving the three of them to fend for themselves.  He pulled the wagon behind a tobacco shop on the Wharf, tied off the horses to a post, then hurried back to the warehouse, positioning himself in a spot to watch inside between the slats of the wall.

          For several minutes nothing seemed to happen.  Mrs. Revere stood off to the side, something gold swinging from her hand. Then, things in front of his eyes seemed to grow fuzzy, and he rubbed a fist in them, thinking the problem was on his end.  When he looked again, nothing seemed to have changed, though Rachel was now minus the item in her hand.  He watched as she ran hands over herself, then ran to the other two to hug them, the mood suddenly changing to that of celebration.  At that point, he almost gave in to his inclination to make his presence known, but then changed his mind as strange things quickly began to unfold.

           Rachel stepped away from the two, and took a position across the warehouse.  Ted pulled something from his pocket, and placed it between his palm and that of Miss Roxanne.  He could see from the sweat on her brow, her gray complexion and gritted teeth that she was dangerously ill, and his heart leapt to his throat.  He watched a few more seconds as Walker laced their hands together with a leather cord, and began mumbling words he couldn't hear.  It was at that moment his Roxanne could hold herself up no longer, and she began to slide to the ground despite her hand being tied to Walker's.

            Hiding and just watching was no longer an option.  He ran from behind the building, crashing through the closed door, and diving for her.  "Roxanne...are you.."  The last words never left his mouth, the world inside his head exploding into a million pieces, and then disappearing into an inky void.

Copyright Victoria T. Rocus 2015
All Rights Reserved