In the quaint town of Elmswood, nestled between towering pines and Lake Atoka, lived a brilliant astrophysicist named Dr. Eleanor Koss. Known for her unorthodox theories on spacetime, wormholes, and portals, she often spent nights gazing through her old but powerful telescope, searching for evidence to support her claims.
One fateful evening, while observing a peculiar alignment of stars, Eleanor noticed an anomaly—a faint, shimmering light that seemed to flicker in and out of existence. The light hovered just above the towering pines, deep in the forest, near the edge of the lake. She was sure it wasn’t a star; it looked more like a reflection from something, but from what? She honestly had no idea! Excitement overcoming her, Eleanor quickly calculated the distance and approximate coordinates and set out to investigate.
Jumping on her ATV, she drove to the edge of the woods. She knew the area well, so she had no problem navigating her way through the trees as she headed for the water’s edge. The forest was getting darker; the light she had seen must have stopped flickering, but no matter, she knew exactly where she was heading.
As she approached her destination, the ground beneath her ATV felt like it was humming. There was no other way she could describe it. It was subtle, but something was very different. The air felt heavier too, so she took that as a sign that she was on the right track and was nearly where she wanted to be.
Minutes later she arrived at her calculated coordinates, gathering her courage, Eleanor grabbed her bag and stepped off the ATV. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced; she could feel the vibration under her feet as she began to walk. She took a few steps in the direction of the lake and stopped! What was that? It looked like an old moss-covered rock, but it was more flattish and perfectly round. Has it always been there? She wondered. Undeterred, she continued towards it. She was sure this was where she saw the original light coming from, and as if to confirm her thoughts, it suddenly appeared again. It was bright, so bright she shielded her eyes but was still able to make out that it was some kind of opening. Then as quickly as it came, it went.
This had to have been what she had seen through her telescope, the opening and closing of this ‘portal’. It’s bright light reflecting in the night sky. Her heart was racing now; what am I going to do? She thought, knowing full well, she was going to step inside!
Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long for it to appear again; a few more minutes and she may have managed to talk herself out of this foolishness. She didn’t hesitate; she rushed forward and stepped in. A swirling vortex of light and sound seemed to stretch and compress her very being. She wasn’t moving, or at least it didn’t feel like she was. But when the portal opened, she stepped out, instantly knowing she wasn’t in the same place.
She found herself in a bustling marketplace, filled with sights and sounds that were both familiar and alien. Grateful for all the activity around her, she managed to ground herself, going unnoticed, allowing herself to process where she was and what had just happened. Eleanor realized she had traveled back in time; it looked like the medieval era. The townsfolk, clad in simple garments, buying and selling their wares, was a sight she had seen in many history books. She wandered the cobblestone streets, marveling at the simplicity and beauty around her; but keeping a low profile. Even though she was enjoying absorbing her surroundings, she was very aware that she would need to find a way to get back home. Would she see the portal open again from this side of time? She had no idea but remained in the vicinity so she could make a quick run for it, if it did.
Hours went by, it was getting late, and nothing happened. So determined to make the most of her journey, Eleanor sought out the locals to see if she could find a place to sleep for the night. She had no money, but she did have a chocolate bar in her bag if she got hungry. As she was dressed in her usual boho style garb, her clothes weren’t so outrageous as to not somewhat fit in.
A kind soul, believing she was a lost traveler, which in fact she was, allowed her to sleep in his barn. She was so grateful and, with the blanket he had given her, made herself as comfortable as she could as far away from the front door as possible. Once she was settled, she dared to open the chocolate bar. She knew she would have to burn the wrapper; she couldn’t take the chance of it being found. They would probably burn her at the stake as a witch if they found it, she thought, smiling to herself.
Despite the circumstances, she slept soundly. In the morning, the barn owner gave her a bowl of hot furmenty—oatmeal as she knew it, and a drink of water, which she consumed eagerly. He told her that he was sorry, but it was time for her to leave. She thanked him graciously and asked if he knew if anyone was looking to hire a worker. He told her that a farmer who lived in the next village to the north had recently lost his wife and was looking for help feeding the farm animals and doing the chores. He told her that he didn’t think he could pay much other than food and board, but hopefully it would help her out. She thanked him again, finished her food, and began her journey to find the next village.
The days turned into months, and Eleanor put her heart and soul into her work. The old farmer was understandably sad and kept himself to himself. But as she proved her worth, he slowly opened up and told her how much he appreciated her company and what she did for the farm. The farm thrived as Eleanor used ideas from the future for doing things. Only small adjustments of course, as she had limited resources, but a little tweaking made a lot of difference. They became good friends. Eleanor wasn’t sure she even wanted to leave, but she knew she had to find a way home; she couldn’t stay here forever.
The quality crops and milk produced by the farm reached the knowledge of the Lord of the local castle. He sent a messenger to the old farmer requesting crops and milk for his people and paid a handsome price. The farmer was so happy he invited Eleanor to accompany him to deliver the produce. They reached the castle and received a warm welcome. They were invited to dine with the Lord himself and were given free access to his realms. Eleanor chose to explore the castle; after all, who has had the opportunity to do this from the 21st century? She allowed herself to wander and came upon a huge library; it was filled with ancient manuscripts and old scrolls. One particular book caught her eye—it was a dusty, leather-bound volume called The Chronomancy’s Chronicles. What an odd title for these times, she mused. Anyway, she pulled it off the shelf and flipped through the pages. There were detailed instructions on how to control the flow of time, referencing wormholes and portals that randomly appear. How could this be? She thought. It looks old enough to be from this era, so how factual could it be? She didn’t care; she carefully hid the book in the drapes of her cloak and made her way back to the castle grounds to meet the old farmer.
They traveled home that evening, the old farmer smiling and singing a song that reminded him of his wife. He wished his wife could have been there to see his good fortune but knew deep down it was due to Eleanor coming into his life that had created the change.
A week later, Eleanor explained to the old farmer that she had to leave. She confided in him about who she was and how she arrived there. He accepted her story, not truly convinced about who she was, but he loved her like he would his own daughter, so he didn’t really care. He was sad to see her leave, but he knew in his heart that she had to go.
Eleanor had been studying the book she had found and, armed with the knowledge she had gained, needed to return to the old marketplace and retrace her steps to the site of the moss-covered stone. The book had revealed there were specific times and dates that the portal would open, so she made sure she was there and ready for the next opening when the sun sets. If it didn’t happen, then so be it, but if it did, she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to step back into her world.
As predicted, but still surprisingly the portal appeared. Torn to leave, but excited to go home, she rushed forward and stepped in. Like before, a vortex of light and sound seemed to stretch and compress her very being, only this time it was taking her home. When she emerged, she was back in Elmswood. Feeling a sigh of relief, it seemed like nothing had changed but she needed to find out the date to see how long she had been gone.
Surprised to see her ATV still parked just a few feet away, she climbed aboard and headed home. She felt woolly-headed; could any of this have been real? She thought. She soon arrived home and, feeling exhausted, stepped inside appreciating the familiarity of her surroundings, probably for the first time. She looked at the clock and it showed the time that she would have originally reached the portal, so she checked the date on the newspaper in her mailbox, it was the same date she left too.
Feeling confused, she walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a generous glass of Cab Sav. Slumping down in her favourite chair, she took a large sip, savouring the taste; had she just woken up from a dream? She honestly felt like what she could remember was real, but how is that possible? She drank the glass of wine quickly, enjoying the warmth and feeling of relaxation, and decided to soak in the bath. She headed up the stairs to her bedroom and went to hang her bag on the back of the wardrobe door. It felt unusually heavy. Tipping everything out on the bed, she saw why, there was an old heavy book that she was carrying in it. She picked it up and read the title, and that’s when more details came flooding back to her—the marketplace, the castle and of course the dear old farmer.
What she had experienced had been real. She knew she needed to record everything she could remember right now, before it eluded her. Her bath forgotten; she grabbed her laptop and started to type. Three days later, having spent days and nights recording her amazing experience, she finally reached the end. The funny part was though, even with her having this personal encounter, she couldn’t prove any of it. Even the book she bought back with her could be explained away as being found somewhere in this lifetime.
So…it was back to the drawing board trying to find provable theories on spacetime, wormholes, and portals, but somehow it just didn’t feel as important anymore. She knew the truth and honestly didn’t care if anyone believed it or not. She had experienced it and had loved every minute of her temporary life and truly missed the old farmer, she wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.
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