Her mother's grave

I threw on my wool overcoat and grabbed a tin cup that sat on top of the wooden chest before making my way towards the brook outside. The wind was freezing cold, and the last remnants of the previous snowfall could still be seen on the ground. There were a couple torches burning by the infirmary, but otherwise it was very dark. The moon could barely be seen as it played hide and seek behind the gliding clouds. I could hear the waves of the bay crashing onto shore in the distance.

          I stepped through the grass and snow wearing my thickest wool stockings. I found the brook and dipped my cup into the running water. Delicious! And freezing! I looked inland away from the village and thought about how I was on the edge of a wide open forest where wild bears and wolves lived. There was no wildlife control and no modern cities west of us. At that particular moment I had no real protection at all. A gust of wind hit me that sent chills down my neck and shoulders. I quickly turned around to make my way back to the Brewster cabin.

As I passed the graveyard I heard a whimpering sound and I nearly screamed in panic. Ghosts in the graveyard! I knew it! The Pilgrims did their best to hide how many of them had died, but they did make some subtle markings in an area next to the village where they buried their dead. While the Indians may not have known where our dead were kept or how many there were, we certainly did. I did my best to avoid the grave site during the day. At night it was even creepier. It was filled with the emaciated bodies of men, women, and children I had known, some of whom had passed away before my eyes. The wind-blown clouds created shifting moon shadows through the trees. I heard an owl hooting in the darkness. If there were any ghosts roaming about, this would be the ideal spot for them.

I had almost made it back to the Brewster cabin when I heard the whimpering again. This time I stopped because there was something about it that didn’t sit right with me. Could it have been a restless spirit walking amongst the graves? I had another feeling what it may have been.

I took one of the burning torches that were hanging by the door of the infirmary. I gathered my courage and walked down the small hill towards the grounds where the graves were made. There were a couple small crosses sticking out of the ground that some of the families had used as markers. The outlines of freshly dug pits could still be seen from where two more people had been buried the day before. 

The whimpering grew louder as I approached. I knew for sure now that it wasn’t just my imagination. Cautiously, I stepped over and around the places where I knew people had been buried until I found where the sobbing had been coming from. I lifted the torch above my head to spread the light and I saw the cowering outline of a person kneeling on the ground. I walked closer until I recognized who it was.

          “Elizabeth?”

          She wiped her eyes and looked up at me.

          “Kyla?”

          “Why are you out here? You’ll freeze.”

          “I don’t care.” She began to sob again. I then realized that she was knelt down on the grave of her mother.

-- from Time Trip #3: 

Witness to the First Thanksgiving

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

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A Shawnee Folk Tale

“I will tell you the story of the Thunder Spirit,” said one of the old Indian men sitting next to the fire. It was a chilly evening, probably in October, but I wasn’t sure. It had become difficult to keep track of the English calendar. The moon was full and shining brightly overhead, and the wind bristled through the tree tops causing the few leaves that were left to dance and sway. 

The old man’s hair was long and gray. The skin of his face appeared to have a million wrinkles. His eyes looked closed even when he was looking around. The children listened intently, their faces glowing orange in the light of the fire.

“This story was first told to me by an old Shawnee woman when I was younger than you children here.”

The old man cleared his throat and began. “Long ago there was a woman who lived alone in her village. She was young and beautiful. She combed her long, thick hair every day with eagle oil, and her body had grown healthy with venison. She carried her own heavy chopped wood to her home. This helped build her strength. Her skin was soft like corn silk. But she was too beautiful to have just any man. So she lived alone, admiring her own beauty.

“Then one day she met a man. This man had followed her from the river back to her home. This man was like no one she had ever known before. He had piercing, brown eyes. His long hair, longer than hers, blew behind him as he walked beside her like smoke drifting in the wind. He carried the chopped wood for her. He carried the water baskets from the corn fields for her. The feathers tied in his hair seemed to float with each step he took. His powerful voice swallowed her whole as he spoke. ‘Maiden, let me help you with your labor,” he said. ‘Allow me to invite you to my home to meet my family.’ 

“So she followed him. She was too nervous to look into his eyes. All she could do was smile. He walked beside her to his family wetu. He introduced her to his two sisters, and they politely asked her to stay with them. The woman stayed with his family. They appreciated her and enjoyed her company. She accepted this powerful man as her husband and became a member of their family. 

“Her man would go out hunting during the day while the women worked tirelessly in the fields. He brought home plenty of deer and bear. He was the best hunter in the village. And the women showed great skill at growing corn, so there was always plenty of corn bread and corn stew. Life was happy in the village. 

“Then one day, the man came back later than usual. His hands were cut and covered in blood, and his hair was tangled in knots. ‘The hunt today was difficult,’ he said. ‘The deer I found was quick. I shot but only wounded it. I prayed and followed it, but the deer ran to the sacred stream and ate the plants to heal its wound. Then it rolled in the sacred mud and the wound disappeared. I knew then that I was not to kill this one.’

“He returned to the hunting field and prayed for the spirits to help him find another deer. The next deer that came across the field was an old stag. It was huge and powerful. It stared at the man without fear, straight into his soul. He knew that this stag would be the one killed. It was a fine deer with large horns of great honor and a sleekness of spirit.  Suddenly, it leapt over the hedge and was gone. The man chased after it quickly, and soon found the tracks leading over the edge of a high cliff. But the man did not notice the cliff and fell over. His body was badly bruised, hands cut, legs ripped as he freed himself from the bush of thorns that broke his fall.

“He returned home and lay down on his bedroll with his head on his beautiful woman's lap. She stroked his hair, feeling the weariness of his spirit. He soon fell into a deep sleep. The woman then noticed that his body was changing . . . transforming. His breathing slowed. Unbelievably, while still sleeping, he gradually turned into a gigantic snake. The beautiful woman felt the hair she was stroking shrink to slimy, dark gray scales that covered his head. His long, forked tongue flicked out between his lips like a wriggling fish attempting to escape. His weight was too much for her. She carefully crawled out from under his massive, fanged head and ran outside. She ran straight into the man’s mother. She saw her fearful expression and told her ‘We are Serpent-People. We are good and wish you well. My son truly loves you; but if you feel that you can no longer stay here, then you should run away. But go quickly, for if my son wakes and knows that you have run from him, he will try to find you and make you return. So go now. And do not look back!’ 

“The beautiful woman ran. Her strong legs moved quickly at first, but then as she thought about her good man, and the kindness he showed her, she slowed down. She was confused. Her mind fought with her heart. She sat down to rest. She was tired and decided to close her eyes and pray. She had a dream. She dreamt that her vanity was what brought her into this problem and that her wisdom would get her home. She awoke in a thunderstorm. Rain was pouring down upon her.

“Thunder Spirit called out to her, and the deep, rolling voice was more than she could bear. She jumped up with her hands over her ears. The great voice echoed across the land.”

The old Indian man stood up at this point and jumped towards the smaller children and yelled, “RUN!”  This caused the children to flinch in fear and laughter while he told the story.

 "’Run now! The Snake-Man is behind you! He will catch you! And swallow you whole!’ The woman ran with all of her strength. The fear of her soul was pounding in her head. She heard the terrible rustling of the serpent-man slithering after her.  She ran until she had crossed the mountains, and soon she came to a lake near her old home; the snake-man still slithering after her, gaining with each step she took. There, standing by the lake, was another strong warrior holding a spear. She grabbed the spear from the warrior and threw it at the serpent. The spear pierced the snake’s body. All at once a roaring black cloud surrounded the woman. She looked back at the giant serpent and saw that he had turned back into the man she had fallen in love with, only now he had been mortally wounded. The spear was plunged deep into his chest.

     

     “The woman ran to him. ‘What have you done?’ he asked her. ‘Why kill me when you know how I love you?’ The woman had no answer. She was mortified. She had killed the only man she had ever loved. When she returned home and saw her reflection in the pond she realized that her beauty had left her. Her skin grew as wrinkled as mine, her hair as white as mine. She now warns other young people to look into the heart for beauty. For the day the serpent was pierced, her heart was pierced as well.”

--from Time Trip #3: 

Witness to the First Thanksgiving

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

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Japanese Ghost Tale

“Just in time for Obon!” said Masahiro.

Kyla lost her happy focus for a beat. “What’s Obon?” she asked.

“What’s Obon?” Masahiro appeared almost insulted at Kyla’s question. “It’s only the best festival of the year.”

“A festival?” asked Kyla. Her countenance brightened again with the thought of another celebration.

“Yes. It’s when the gateway between the dead and the living opens up so that all of our ancestors can return home to visit.”

“You mean ghosts?” asked Kyla.

“Exactly,” answered Masahiro. A sly grin crossed his face.

“Don’t scare her, Masa-san,” said Sadako.

“It’s good that they come back and visit us, Kyla, to see what’s going on,” continued Masahiro, “but sometimes they won’t leave. Sometimes even the spirits of murder victims will return to haunt their killers.”

“What?” Kyla loved these types of stories. “Is that true?”

“Honest,” answered Masahiro. “I heard about one man who had been married for many years to his wife, but then he met another woman. Someone younger and more beautiful and he fell in love with her. So the man poisoned his old, crusty wife which not only killed her but disfigured the muscles on the right side of her face like this.” Masahiro made a grotesque face with his tongue dangling out.

“Ah, how mean,” said Kyla.

Masahiro continued, “Well, he threw her dead body down into a deep well out near the mountains. So now the man was free to marry his new bride and life went on as normal for them. Then, when the next Obon festival came around, the man began to hear horrible sobbings coming from outside his house at night. It was coming from some crazy homeless woman standing near his gate. Obon lasts for three nights. On the first night the man did his best to ignore the sobbing. On the second night, he yelled out his window ‘Whoever that is, you’d better stop crying! Get away from my home!’ But the crying and wailing didn’t stop. It grew louder. On the final night of Obon the man couldn’t take the noise anymore. So he grabbed an axe and ran out to where the woman was standing. He was about to threaten her with the axe when she looked up at him.” Masahiro acted out a dramatic glare at both Kyla and Sadako. 

Masahiro continued, “And he immediately recognized the woman as his old wife. Her bloated and twisted face glistened in the moonlight from the well water that had filled her body. She began to move towards the man, but he was so scared he swung the axe to keep her away and it lodged deep into her ribs. CRUNCH!” Masahiro imitated the swing of the axe. “The woman fell to the ground and the man ran back to his house in terror. He jumped into his futon and pulled the blankets up over his head. The crying outside had stopped, and eventually the man fell asleep. Usually when he awoke, the man’s new wife would already be making him breakfast. Frying fish, boiling rice, heating tea. But that morning she was nowhere to be found. When the man stepped outside he saw the body of the woman he had attacked that night still in the front yard. He ran out to drag the body back to the well, but when he rolled the woman over he saw that it was actually the body of his new wife. She still had the bloody axe wound in her side. The first wife had gotten her revenge. True story.”

“Really? That’s not a true story, is it, Sadako?” asked Kyla.

“Well—“

“Of course it is,” interrupted Masahiro. The sly grin never left his face. “All the stories I tell are true.”

--from Time Trip #4: Killing for Country

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

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Noises in the Woods

They went several yards into the thick woods and then began moving parallel to the road. These trees were different from the swamplands they had been walking through the previous night. The land was firm and dry, and the trees grew thick and close together, forcing each person to watch closely to where they were stepping. Ben carried Baby Claire while also helping Jane pick her way through the branches which tugged at her dress and shawl. The moon was thin, but the sky was clear and thankfully it gave off enough light for them to be able to see the outlines of the trees in front of them, but they couldn’t see much beyond that. 

          Henry was trailing behind the group now. He was distracted by the night noises of howls and chirps coming from deeper in the woods, and he pulled his pockets inside out for good luck. Just as he did that he heard a loud owl hoot from a nearby tree. He stopped walking.

          “Did you hear that?” he asked. Even in the cold air he was beginning to break out in a sweat.

          “Keep moving,” said Harriet.

          “Owl cries are bad luck,” Henry said.

          “Keep moving,” repeated Harriet.

Henry muttered something to himself about bad luck then felt the poke of a gun barrel press against his back.

          “Them owl’s is bad luck for you, fren’,” said a rough voice behind him. “Now stop right where y’ar.”

          “Oh, Lord, Harriet! They caught us,” cried Henry. “Them slave-catchers caught us here!”

          Everyone in Harriet’s group stopped to look back at Henry. Kyla and Zammie froze in their tracks.

          “Who’s that there?” asked Harriet. “Who are ya?” In the darkness all she could make out was the outline of a man standing behind Henry.         

          “You be trespassin’ on my land,” said the voice. “An’ we don’t take kindly to trespassers. What’s yur business out here?”

          “I mean no disrespec’, sir, but we didn’t know this was your land,” said Harriet. “We’ll be more than happy to move on through as quickly as our feet’ll carry us.”

          “An’ why should I jus let you go like that, lit’l woman?” asked the man. “I’m thinkin’ I’m due some payment for lettin’ you use my land as a causeway.”

“He got a gun, Harriet,” said Henry. His voice was trembling.

          “We promise to be movin’ on, sir,” said Harriet. “We don’t want no trouble now.”

          While Harriet was talking, Robert had slowly and carefully snuck up behind the stranger. Just when the man was about to answer Harriet again Robert grabbed the barrel of the rifle and pulled it up so it was pointing in the air. He then hit the man squarely in the mouth with the back of his elbow and the rifle went off with a loud BANG. The powder flash briefly illuminated the area. In an instant it was dark again, but in that brief split second of light, Zammie had noticed several other shapes moving towards them through the trees.

          Robert gave the rifle to Henry then knelt down and lifted the stranger up by his jacket collar.

          “What d’you want from us?” asked Robert.

          Two lanterns were then turned on, one on either side of the group. The forest was illuminated with a warm, yellow glow and they could see that six other black men, most holding hunting rifles, had surrounded the group.

          Robert looked back down at the first stranger. He was smiling at Robert through blood-stained teeth. Robert had busted his lip when he hit him with his elbow.

          “You bettuh let me go, son, or you’ll be in more trouble than you can possibly imagine,” the man said before beginning to laugh.

 -- from Time Trip #2: 

A Ride on the Underground Railroad

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

Available at Amazon.com!  

Book Review of The Journey to Ancient Greece

Official Online Book Club Review of 
Time Trip #1: The Journey to Ancient Greece

Written by user Buddyroo. 




This is a short story of 2 children, cousins Kyla 11 and Zammie 12 years old who received a small statue of the Hindu hero Arjuna that was said to help them study. Excited the children take it to their room to try it out while studying ancient Greece. They activate the statue and suddenly find themselves transported to ancient Greece in appropriate clothing. They are shocked to discover the true purpose of the statue is to take them directly to the place and time to observe their studies in person. Unnerved when they arrive, they meet a local boy who is journeying to Delphi to consult the Oracle about rescuing his sister from slavery. The cousins not knowing what to do decide to accompany this Greek boy to consult the Oracle themselves to find out how to get back home. After visiting the Oracle they decide to continue with the boy to rescue his sister. They encounter many difficulties while learning a lot about the history of Greece and they come to understand each other a little better.

I liked this book. I am fond of books directed for this age group of pre-teens. This book provided a great history lesson on Ancient Greece in a fun way. Their adventures were entertaining with a hint of danger to polish it off.

There was one point that concerned me while reading and that was a break the author makes from the story to elicit a long 3 paragraph history lesson on King Leonidas of Sparta. This little history lesson would have been fine had it been delivered by one of the characters, but as a stand alone product in the middle of the story was strange. This happens again only a much shorter 1 paragraph about General Themistocles. However, if this book is intended to be a possible required reading for history class, it wouldn’t be completely out of place.

I did very much enjoy Kyla’s conversation with General Themistocles and the advice he gave her. This was a very charming intercourse and probably my favorite part.

I also liked how the author returned the children back home and the opening for more misadventures into history that are sure to come. I will be recommending this book because of the fun and interesting delivery of history and that is why I gave it 3 out of 4 stars. I didn’t give 4 because of the breaks in the story that seemed out of place. I very well may be reading the follow up stories.

 

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

Available at Amazon.com!  

The Oracle at Delphi

The Oracle’s head was tilted down and her eyes were closed as Zammie approached. The male attendant was busy cataloging the inventory of donations they had received so far that day, but he stopped to stand next to the Oracle when he saw the young boy approaching.

          “Excuse me, ma’am,” said Zammie.

          The priestess’ eyes opened and her head lifted to look at the two children. Zammie took a half-step back when he saw the white, milky gloss where pupils should have been.

          “Um, I have nothing to offer you because my cousin and I are a long way from home, and we miss our parents very much.” Zammie felt his voice begin to quiver. “But is there anything you can tell us to help us return home? Any advice for us at all?”

          Zammie was surprised at how young she looked. He had always envisioned the Oracle at Delphi as being an old hag or witch, but this woman was probably in her late twenties. She had a very pretty face with long brown hair that hung down over her slender shoulders. She wore a hint of dark rouge on her pale cheeks; her fair skin was that of a girl who had been hidden away in a temple all her life. Her teardrop lips were like those of a China doll.

          The Oracle didn’t move for a few moments but then she closed her eyes.

          “The Oracle does not give advice without tribute,” said the male attendant with a sneer. “You children should run along.”

          Zammie didn’t like the man’s condescending attitude.

          “I know, but, please, sir, just some help for us to get home—“

          “Be gone!” said the attendant.  He took a step towards Zammie as if he was going to grab him, but the voice of the Oracle stopped him.

          “Wait,” said the priestess. She had opened her eyes again and they were no longer white. Zammie could see the woman had soft green eyes that looked like glistening emeralds.  “Young man. You are not from this time.”

-- from Time Trip #1: The Journey to Ancient Greece

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

Available at Amazon.com!