Somewhere in Time
Feeble candlelight challenged the growing darkness. A savage electrical storm wreaked havoc with power lines, neon-green lightning overloading transformers that exploded in showers of vivid blue sparks.
Old-timers of Granville peeked through parted curtains. Brave ones ventured onto porches to gaze in awe at the violently churning dark green clouds overhead. It was the strangest weather in memory. It was the color that scared people–the green clouds and lightning, the green-tinted air.
Sammi Jewel dug through the overflowing junk drawer hoping for more candles but came away with only a half-dead flashlight with a dim yellow beam. Though only four PM it was gloomy and oppressive outside the house and dark inside.
Her twin six-year-old boys were giddy with excitement. Scotty and Brandon knew adventure when they saw it. Stormy weather, candles, and a big box from their new TV. Sammi sighed with relief. Two terrified kids she didn’t need.
She hugged herself. The air was alive with a pulsating energy that tickled the hair on her arms and raised goose bumps. She imagined swarms of tiny invisible spiders were crawling on her and resisted the impulse to brush them away.
She peeked in at her boys and marveled at their imaginations. They crawled giggling inside the box with their teddies and closed the flaps.
“Captain Scotty here. Time machine ready!”
“Ready!”
“Date?”
“1830!”
The box rocked and Sammi smiled.
Sharp cries of alarm erupted from within, followed by a flash of jade-green light. Then silence.
Sammi gasped, rushing to the box. She called tentatively while opening the flaps with trembling hands, “Boys?”
Empty. Sammi inhaled sharply and frantically searched the room. They must have slipped out unseen, but how?
There was another flash of green and giggles from the box. Sammi looked in and screamed. “Where have you boys been?”
The boys were confused. “In the box, Momma.”
She shook her head. “I looked and you weren’t…”
“Teddy!” Scotty shouted. “Where’s Teddy?”
“Let’s go get him!” Brandon cried. Hunkering down they closed the flaps, chanting, “1830, 1830, 1830…”
“Teddy!”
The box rocked. Green light flashed.
“No!” Sammi cried.
Flaps pulled open revealed the box was empty. Sammi screamed and looked frantically about the dimly lit room for her sons. Another flash of green startled an anguished cry from her. “God in Heaven! What’s going on?”
Brandon jumped from the box, dropped a teddy bear and ran to his toy box, screaming all the while, “Indians! Indians, Momma! The Indians got him! The Indians!” He quickly fished out his toy bow and four rubber- tipped arrows and ran back to the box. Sammi grabbed for him but he ducked and pulled shut the flaps, screaming, “1830! 1830! 1830!” Green light pulsed. Sammi screamed until her throat was raw and bleeding.
By four-thirty she was insane. Her husband arrived home at five to find his wife sitting in the box, rocking to and fro, mumbling “1830, 1830…” while clutching a blood-stained teddy bear.
By six, rays of sunlight peeked through dissipating clouds that ceased their violent churning and either melted away or moved off. The air lost its green tint and all that remained of the strange storm was the memory of it.
In Granville they still talk about it–the strange weather and the disappearance of the two boys–as if the two events were inseparable.
Sammi shuffles aimlessly in the asylum, tears falling freely from haunted eyes, mumbling endlessly about “’Indians” and “1830.” At times Sammi’s eyes brighten and she smiles an odd little smile. If she tries hard she can see her twin six-year-olds, two bright little meteors streaking through time. But when she reaches out to them they shimmer and fade, as does her sanity. The light in her eyes dims and once more she is lost.
