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Thursday, November 28, 2013

Our Protagonists

The two leads 
of our TIME TRIP series . . .



Zammie and Kyla are cousins who live just a few houses away from each other in a normal middle class neighborhood outside of Long Beach, California. Their mothers are sisters who emigrated from the island of Luzon in the Philippines a few years before having children. The two cousins both attend Rosemont Middle School.



portrayed by actor Robert Villar
Zamuel "Zammie" Pineda 
12 years old - 7th grade

Both rational and curious, Zammie loves history and math. He is always searching for the most logical answer to any problem and is constantly questioning the world around him. He has grown up in a modern and advanced society filled with shopping malls, smartphones and abundant sushi shops. His parents have told him stories about their rough and tumble childhoods in the Philippines which makes Zammie grateful for his current life of opportunity. Still, he longs for the chances to "prove" himself as being more than just a soft city boy. Discovering the Arjuna statue and being able to travel far into the past has given Zammie the chances he craves to learn survival skills and test his endurance. 


portrayed by actress Barbara Miguel
Kyla Reynoso  
11 years old - 6th grade

More emotional than her cousin, but just as inquisitive. Kyla is a believer in the supernatural, a music lover and can feel deep empathy for anyone she meets. She will often jump headfirst into situations without thinking if she feels there is someone who needs her help. She is not averse to hard work and is driven by the need to show she can pull her own weight as well or better than any boy.



Experience the past in a new and exciting way! 

Join Kyla and Zammie as they find their way through many of history's most famous, thrilling and frightening moments. 

All books are available for Kindle at Amazon.com at very low prices. Content is perfect for smart junior high readers and above, but beware, history isn't always pretty. 

Books range from 120-250 pages.


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!  

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4
KILLING FOR COUNTRY  
Available at Amazon.com! 

Sunday, November 24, 2013

The Bet


“Let me go! I’m just a kid!” I yelled.
          “What are you doing here? Who are you with?” asked the lead Indian. He was taller than the others and probably in his late twenties. His white eyes appeared to float in the darkness that was his painted face.
          “My name is Zammie. I’m just looking for my cousin.”
          “This village is abandoned. It’s a cursed place. No one should be here.”
          “Cursed? What do you mean?”
          “Put him with the other.” The Indian who had tied my wrists pushed me along towards the edge of the village where another Indian was being held with his hands tied behind his back. The village had been built along a series of small grassy hills with a small river running along one side of it. The sandy shoreline of what looked like the ocean was less than a quarter mile away explaining why I could hear the breaking of waves.
          The Indians tied a leather leash around my neck and began pulling me along like a dog. The other captured Indian was pulled with a leash as well. We left the village and began walking further inland towards a thick forest of green pine trees.
“Where are they taking us?” I asked the other captive. He ignored me.
“What’s your name?” I asked him. He still ignored me. “My name is Zammie.” The man was thin and athletic-looking like the other Indians, but he looked a little older than the leader who captured me. It was obvious these guys were in good shape because they were lean and muscular and they showed no signs of being tired even after we had been walking for several hours. After climbing more hills and fording a couple shallow rivers I was beginning to feel the strain.
“When do you think we’ll stop to rest?” I asked him. He still ignored me. “Do you even understand what I’m saying?” On my previous time trips I had learned that although it sounded to me as if I was speaking English, the words I spoke were understood by whomever I was addressing. I’m sure this Indian could understand me. “Are you mute? Can you not talk? We’ve been walking for hours and you haven’t said one word to me.”
The Indians that were pulling us along looked back at us, murmured something to each other and began laughing. I noticed the captive looking at me and trying to hold back a grin as well.
“They have a bet on how long you will last,” said the other captive.
“Finally! You speak,” I said. “What do you mean, ‘how long I will last’?”
“The one holding your leash thinks you will fall before we make camp. The other bets you won’t.”
“What? Why do you think I’ll fall?” I asked the Indian holding onto me. 
“Because you are frail,” said the other captive. “You may dress like a Patuxet but you are not one. And your hair is too short. Not like the hair of someone your age should be.”


--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 
Available at Amazon.com!  

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

A Visitor to Plymouth


Once we entered March the weather began to make a real turn for the better. The temperature lifted and more birds began to flock to the area filling the void with their delicate singing. Unfortunately by this time, only 50 of the original 102 passengers were still alive.
On March 16th, during a military training exercise led by Capt. Standish, everyone stopped when they noticed a solitary Indian again standing atop the hill that was a quarter mile away.
“I’m not going this time,” said Stephen Hopkins. The blood-curdling yelps he heard the last time he went out to the hill were still ringing in his ears.
He wouldn’t have to go. After a short wait, the Indian began making his way towards the village. We all crowded around on top of Fort Hill so we could watch his every step. The alarm bell was rung and the women and children slowly made their way into the rendezvous. Since it was just a single Indian there wasn’t as much immediacy this time around. Soon the Indian crossed the larger hill on the other side of the brook before wading chest-deep through the water. This was no simple task because the water was quite cold and this Indian wore almost no clothing. After crossing the brook, the Indian, a healthy, strong looking man nearly six feet tall, entered into the village. Still walking in long, confident strides, he made his way towards the rendezvous. He appeared to be heading straight for the entrance.
“What are we gonna do?” asked John Billington.
“Are we going to stop him?” asked Edward Winslow.
Capt. Standish walked down from the hill and approached the Indian. Edward Winslow followed close behind him in support.
“Halt!” said Capt. Standish. He held up his hand like a traffic cop and the Indian stopped walking. He had a pleasant smile on his face that no one quite knew how to interpret. “Kyla! Please speak with this man.”
“Yes, sir,” I ran down the hill and looked up at the Indian. He was several inches taller than the Pilgrim men, and he looked to be in very good shape. The only clothing he wore was a soaked breechclout around his waist. He had straight black hair like mine except it was short in the front and on the right side and long in the back. A couple thin strands of his hair were neatly braided. He carried a bow in one hand that reminded me of the Arjuna statue. There were two arrows in his other hand. I noticed that one arrow had a head on it and the other did not. I was about to ask him what his name and purpose was when he raised his arms in a manner of greeting and said something that shocked everyone.
“Welcome, Englishmen!”


--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 
Available at Amazon.com!  





Tuesday, November 19, 2013

A Moment from Pickett's Charge


The horses of the lead officers were galloping to the front. The red battle flags rippled lazily as the color guard marched ahead of the infantry. As some of the smoke finally began to clear, the infantry’s bayonets glimmered brightly in the afternoon sun. They were in perfect alignment. It was the best I had seen this division march in the three days I had been with them. I was almost proud of them. And there was still no noise yet coming from the Union front. 
          We marched slowly down the shallow slope and onto the valley floor. With the smoke fading away by this point and we could now see how difficult this mission was going to be. The Federals wouldn’t fire until we were within range, but when they did we had nowhere to run and nowhere to take cover. In addition to Pickett’s Division, two additional Divisions were marching along just to our left under Major Generals Pettigrew and Trimble.
The drummers had been told to stay close to Armistead because once the attack would begin he would need to communicate orders to us. We would then translate those orders to the soldiers through certain drum calls. He was easy to keep tabs on because he continued to hold his felt hat on the tip of his sabre high above his head as he marched out in front of us. He made for an easy target if I ever saw one.
       
   Just when I was beginning to wonder how long we would be able to march until the Federals began shooting again, I heard cannons firing off from our right near the hill called Little Round Top. They had a near flanking position on us since we were marching east and they were pointed due north. The enfilade fire would take out as many as ten men with a single round. Kemper’s brigade was taking most of the punishment. The guns would roar in a puff of smoke, then a whistling projectile could be heard speeding through the air, squealing like a tea kettle, and then an explosion would erupt in the midst of the brigade lines sending chunks of dirt and flesh flying in all directions. The men looked like rag-dolls being tossed around. Many of the men died instantly, but many did not. Some were even hobbling or crawling back towards Confederate lines leaving trails of blood and guts behind them.
          The ordnance rifle cannon had been developed just a few years earlier. It delivered shells that would explode on impact. The muzzle of these cannons had been built with a three inch spiral groove bore along the inside. This groove created a similar effect to the rifled muskets: improved accuracy and better range.
The 3-inch rifled cannon normally fired Hotchkiss or Schenkel shells that looked like bullets and weighed between 9 and 14 pounds. They could also be used to fire canister but, as a rifle, they were not as effective with that sort of ammo. Canister was best when fired from the older smoothbore Howitzers or Napoleon cannons. The timed shells that were fired would burst in the air with devastating effect, shooting out shards of jagged iron shrapnel that would tear men to pieces.  
          “Left oblique!” commanded Armistead. We began to march at a slight angle towards the north where we would soon merge with the Pettigrew and Trimble Divisions. We reached another of the low swales in the land about halfway across the valley where we were ordered to halt.
          “Dress the line!” came the command.
          “Outrageous!” fumed Sgt. Maddox. “We’re open targets out here!”
          It was bad enough to be marching across an open field with guns free to rain down on us from above, but having paused in the open to realign and fill in the gaps that fallen soldiers had left made us an even easier target. Men slid together to fill in the open spaces but as they were doing so more men continued to be blown to bits by the Union barrage. The smell of blood and screams of pain made my stomach flip. I wanted to puke again, but I hadn’t eaten anything in so long I had nothing to vomit up.
          Union cannons were firing from our left as well. Atop Cemetery Hill was another battery of guns laying waste to Pettigrew’s Division. If the Rebels were to have any chance at all of breaking this line they had better pick up their pace. If they delayed much longer there would be no one left to take the hill.


"Boy Colonel"
By Don Troiani, this painting captures the moment when Henry Burgwyn of the 26th North Carolina regiment seized the unit's battle flag to lead the charge up McPherson's Ridge. He died moments later.
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!  



Friday, November 15, 2013

The Amputation Bench


When we entered the house we also found it filled with wounded and tormented men. Bloody and nasty. Pain and anguish that was every bit as bad as Hiroshima. Severed limbs. Buzzing flies. Open wounds. Bullets being picked out from ripped flesh. The living lying next to the dead or soon-to-be dead. And the smell. Blood, excrement, sweat, and the ever-present stench of the dead which reminded me of rotten beef. We immediately fell back into line helping the medics and surgeons with the poor soldiers. Mrs. Weikert brought out all of the linens, cotton, and muslin she could find.
          “Rip this up, Kyla,” said Mrs. Weikert handing me a pile of thin linen sheets. “Tear them into strips and the doctors will use ‘em as bandages.”
          I was impressed with Mrs. Weikert’s devotion to the soldiers. She sacrificed all of her sheets and blankets without a second thought for these poor men. The surgeons took these strips of cloth as fast as we could rip them up. Once all of the linens had been torn into strips Tillie and I went outside with pots of water to where more of the injured were lying. A few days earlier such scenes would have sent me reeling back into a vomit-induced panic. Now, after seeing so many terrible scenes of war, I think I was becoming almost numb to these gory sights. At least I thought that was the case until we went out to the amputation benches.
Just outside the basement door was one such worktable. As I approached carrying a pot of fresh water I saw the medics and a couple black helpers lifting an injured soldier onto the table. They laid him down and gave him a drink from a bottle of whiskey. Tears were falling from his eyes and his hands were trembling greatly. They put a cattle horn over his mouth through which they administered chloroform. They did this in hopes of producing unconsciousness. In this case I don’t think they quite succeeded before the doctor began his dreadful work.
The soldier’s left leg had a ghastly wet wound just below the knee. His pants had been cut off at the thigh leaving the bottom part of his leg exposed. A large gash filled with what looked like raw meat and bone was poking out from the skin below the knee. The two assistants held down the soldier’s other leg and his arms while the surgeon pulled out a bloody saw. He went to work on his butcher’s task, sawing off the leg while the man groaned and attempted to writhe about under the strong hold of the assistants.
“Don’t stare, Kyla,” Tillie whispered to me.
I hadn’t even noticed how obvious my staring was. I quickly turned around and nervously walked away before remembering I hadn’t dropped off the water yet. I went back to the table and left the pot of fresh water on the ground. I picked up the bowl of red water the doctor had been using since morning. It was filled with nasty bits of flesh and gruel. Big black flies were buzzing all around it.    
Just beyond the fence that surrounded the yard on the south side of the house was where the doctors threw all of those sawed off arms and legs. This pile of limbs was the most horrifying and atrocious thing I had ever seen. The pile was actually higher than the fence. Arms, legs, toes, and hands. Bones and blood. The common theme. Flies swarmed around it like a dust cloud. A bird landed on one of the legs and began picking dark red tissue out from the open end. This pile represented what it was these soldiers were giving up for the war as well as any other gruesome image I could think of. 




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!  



Thursday, November 14, 2013

The Two Arrows


“Samoset. Why were you holding those two arrows yesterday? One of them didn’t even have a head on it.”
 “Yes. The arrows are a symbol.”
“A symbol of what?”
“One arrow has a point, and one does not. One arrow means war, one means peace. We hope the English choose wisely.”




Time Trip Adventure 3: 
Witness to the First Thanksgiving
Now available for Kindle at Amazon.com! 
An entertaining and informative 
full-length novel 
for only 99 cents!

Learn about the history surrounding one of our most treasured holidays through the eyes of Zammie and Kyla as they travel back in time in search of what actually unfolded when the English Separatists first met a small group of Wampanoag Indians.

Experience both the suffering and the joy of the fledgling Plymouth settlement as the surviving families work themselves to near extinction in order to build their new home.

Spend time in a Native village deep within the forests west of Cape Cod where hunting is a way of life and peaceful relations must be developed with neighboring tribes in order to secure continued growth.

Let Zammie and Kyla be your guide as you'll journey with them through both the familiar and the unknown. 

Think you know everything about the First Thanksgiving?

Think again.  



TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3
WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 
Available at Amazon.com!  


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!


Monday, November 11, 2013

Kyla Fires a Musket

It was my turn to rinse out the chamber pots used by the patients. We usually emptied them in dirt pits outside the settlement then we would go and rinse them out in a tide pool in the bay that churned enough so we knew the soiled water wouldn’t stay around too long. I was bringing three freshly rinsed pots back from the tide pool when I saw Edward Winslow showing John Howland how to use a musket. I dropped the chamber pots off in the infirmary at each cot then ran back out to see if I could learn something about these Pilgrim guns.
“This is a match-lock,” said Mr. Winslow. “I’ve had to repair the stock several times, but the barrel was actually made in Florence.” He handed the heavy musket to John. Both men turned to look at me when I approached.
“Hello, Miss Kyla,” said Mr. Winslow. “Anything we can help you with?”
“No, sir. I was just wanting to watch.”
“Did you finish you chores?” asked Mr. Winslow.
“Yes, sir. All the chamber pots are clean.”
“You wanna learn how to shoot a musket?” asked John.
“Can I try?” I asked brightly.
“Young girls probably shouldn’t be shooting guns,” said Mr. Winslow. “Besides, I’d wager it’s too heavy for you hold steady.”
“I doubt it,” I said.
John laughed. “I dunno, Mister Winslow. She’s tougher than she looks.”
Edward was twenty-six and John was only twenty-one, but Edward looked and acted older than his age and John looked and acted younger than his.
“Maybe,” said Mr. Winslow, thinking. “Why don’t you watch John try it out first. He’s going to load this gun and aim for the target on that tree over there.” He pointed towards a wooden plank that was tied to a rope and hanging from a tree branch about thirty yards away. “A musket like this can be loaded either with a collection of small lead pellets or loaded with a single ball like this.” He held up a small, dark gray ball then put it back in his pocket. He pointed to a small metal crevice on the musket near the trigger, “This is the flash pan. This is where your priming powder goes.”
“Why is that rope on fire, Mister Winslow?” I asked. I had noticed that John was holding the match cord which was maybe two feet long with one end tied to the bottom of the musket while the other end was smoldering with a line of white smoke reeling off of it. It reminded me of Francis Billington when he tried to show me how to fire a musket on the Mayflower.
“That’s our match or igniter cord, and we’ll get to that in a moment.”
“Okay.”
“Where was I?”
“Priming powder,” I said.
“Yes.” He reached into a leather satchel that hung from his shoulder and pulled out what looked like a piece of candy wrapped in brown paper. “This is a standard cartridge. Just a ball with some powder wrapped up in paper.”
John took the cartridge and tore off the top of the paper with his teeth. Then he poured a small amount of the black powder into the flash pan and closed the tiny lid keeping the powder from falling out.
“Make sure the match doesn’t touch that powder,” said Mr. Winslow. I had already learned that lesson.
John poured the rest of the powder from the cartridge down the barrel of the musket along with the single bullet that was wrapped in the paper. Then he wadded up the empty paper and crammed it into the barrel as well. John pulled out the ram rod from the gun and used it to stuff the ball and powder all the way down into the barrel. Then he took the smoking end of the match cord and strung it in a clip near the trigger of the gun so that it was held in place about four inches above the flash pan.
“Once the match is set into the serpentine and held secure,” said Mr. Winslow, “you align it with the pan, open the flash pan up, and now he’s ready to fire.”
John took aim towards the tree and pulled the trigger. Instead of lowering a hammer like a modern gun, the pulling of the trigger pulled the smoldering match cord down until it touched the powder-filled flash pan. That ignition fired the gun and propelled the bullet out of the barrel in a loud, percussive roar accompanied by billowing white smoke that smelled like rotten eggs.
“I missed,” said John.
“It’s not easy,” said Mr. Winslow. “Sometimes the ball won’t go as straight as you like.”
“Can I try?” I asked.
“Let John load the gun for you, and we’ll see if you can hit the target. But don’t tell Captain Standish I let you fire one of his muskets.”
“Okay, I promise!” I was so excited. I had never fired a real gun before. And this one was louder and had more smoke than I had ever seen on TV. Mr. Winslow showed me how to hold the musket properly, placing the butt of the gun against my right shoulder and holding up the barrel with my left hand. It was heavy and difficult to hold straight for more than a few seconds. John reloaded the gun and lined up the match cord for me.
“Here you go. Ready to fire. But be careful.”
I took the gun and held it as steady as I could. I lined up the end of the barrel with the wooden plank in the distance and pulled the trigger. I saw the match come down and touch the flash pan causing a cloud of curling smoke to burst up into the air. A split-second later I heard an explosive thunderclap that rang my unprotected ears. When the smoke cleared I noticed a small, black notch near the bottom of the plank that I didn’t think had been there before.
“Did I hit it?” I asked filled with hope.
“No way,” said John.
Mr. Winslow ran out to the plank to see. “By God, she did! Unbelievable! Good shot, Kyla!”
“I get to try it again, right?” 

-- 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 
Available at Amazon.com!