Tag: Alternate history

Under the Oaks

Photo taken and edited by Becky Strike, Oak Alley Plantation, LA

He stared down the well groomed brick walk, his worn pack slipping from his shoulder to land with a metallic rattle. His torn, mud-stained uniform was a sore thumb against the impossibly manicured lawn and the milling people nearer the big house.

A woman in skintight pants, of all outlandish costumes, skirted around him with a sidelong glance. A little girl in garishly combined colors jumped up and down and pulled a man’s sleeve; he heard her ask as they passed why he was dressed in such weird clothes. He raised an eyebrow, locking eyes with the open-mouthed child until she lost interest and skipped on toothed road.

The road was all wrong, as well, and shining contraptions sat in neat rows near it on what should have been the cane fields. At least savory smells wafted from the big house. Maybe he could fill his empty stomach while he figured out what was going on.

If only his head didn’t feel so muzzy. He must have had fever; he really didn’t remember how he got back to the plantation. What had he been doing? He flushed with shame at the flash of memory. Cannonfire and screaming men, rivulets of blood polluting the rainwater churning under patched boots. A welcoming hollow in an ancient oak, just waiting at the edge of the field. Curling into a fetal ball with head wedged between his knees and hands locked white knuckles behind his head as battle faded into nothing. Then he was standing under the great oaks of home, only it wasn’t home. It was a nightmare.

The Road

FB_IMG_1582732885221She had lived in the shadow of the mountain all her life. No matter the season, it’s snowy crags had punctuated her world, piercing the sunrise and reflecting the fire of sunset. Now, standing here on the old Roman road, it stood as the final bastion of my old life.

The road itself seemed as timeless as the mountain. From the first time I saw it as a child running wild on the moor, it had fascinated me with its ancient mystery. When I asked my father about it, he would only say that it was the old Roman road. My mother gasped over her loom and dropped her shuttle, something her expert hands never did. In twenty years I had never asked again, but its stones had called to me in my dreams, and often I had searched for its path among the heather and gorse.

Now my parents were dead, my mother to a fever my fifteenth winter, my father to old age only a month gone. Nothing held me to the village; marriage would soon no longer be a possibility even were I drawn to any of the young men. Already glances slid over me as if I were no more than scenery.

I walked the moor for the last time, and for the first time placed my feet upon the ancient Roman stones. My breath caught in my chest. Soon the mountain would be behind me, only the road stretching before me stone after stone. I hefted my bundle and with a deep breath set one foot before me, then another.

The Time Cottage

It was the strangest hodgepodge of a house Jax had ever seen. The solid plank tower butting up against the back wall looked oddly out of place against the cobblestone and steeply pitched shingles. Placed where it was in the spray of a waterfall that seemed to feed nothing, it looked as if someone had snatched random bits from across time and space and pasted them together in homage to time itself.

The impression grew even stronger as the door opened and the occupant appeared. She was a wizened old woman, with incongruently red straggling strands of hair escaping a bonnet starched stiffer than the Magistrate. Her feet were clad in solid leather work boots, while a patchwork cloak barely hid a gown fit for the ballroom.

This dizzying figure rushed toward Jax, grinning widely. “Why, there you are!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him with a disconcerting familiarity that he was too thunderstruck to resist. “I was beginning to think you had lost your way and would never arrive after all!”

She released him only to grab his arms and hold him at arms length, surveying him with the critical eye of an aging aunt or fussing grandmother. “Well now, you could use some meat on your bones, but I can see there’s something going on behind that open mouth and those wide eyes. Yes, you’ll do.”

In an instant everything vanished, the house, waterfall, and woman together. Jax was left standing on the empty moor, staring into space like a daydreaming child, blinking in bewilderment. Feeling dazed, he turned around and headed back to the city as fast as his legs would take him, eager for the comfort of familiar surroundings. But as he topped a hill he stopped so suddenly he nearly lost his balance. The city was gone.FB_IMG_1569700668713