The Williamsburg Story

by willow


A group of noisy tourists bustled out into the afternoon sunlight of Colonial Williamsburg after enjoying a satisfying tour of the Governor’s Palace.  One family broke off from the group as it moved towards the gardens at the back of the Palace to hear a speech by Patrick Henry.  As this small family moved off towards the many taverns in the town for lunch, the little girl asked,
“Mommy, are you having a good time yet?”
Her mother smiled back at her daughter.  “Yes, Cindy.  I’ve got to admit, I had a better time than I expected too have.”
“I don’t see why you did not want to come in the first place, Tanya,” her husband mentioned.
“I’ve told you,” she answered.  “The last time I came here, I was eight years old and it was a horrifying experience!  My brother wanted to learn how to shoot rifles with a man dressed up to be a sergeant.  All he could say was, ‘I wanna get yelled at by the soldier!  I wanna get yelled at by the soldier!’  My parents said he could go, but because he didn’t want to go by himself, he dragged me in with him.  The sergeant chose me to come forward to learn how to roll up gun powder and insert it in the gun.  I was so nervous I couldn’t do anything, so the sergeant spent half of our time screaming in my face.  My brother found it extremely funny, let me tell you.”
“Uncle Jimmy made you get yelled at?”  Cindy giggled.  “That’s funny!”
“It sure wasn’t funny then, you little goose!”  Tanya laughed and chased her daughter down the street towards Chowning’s Tavern.  Once inside, they were seated at a table and given menus.  Marc, Tanya’s husband, asked her how her news report on the time machine was coming.
“What time machine?”  Cindy asked.
“A time machine to take you to the past or the future,” her mother answered.  “I’m writing a story for the paper about it.  A man named Mr. Towsen thinks he can build one by inserting documents of a certain time period inside it and shining a bright light on it.  He thinks that if the light is bright enough, it can turn matter into energy.  Light is energy after all, isn’t it?”
“Is this guy a scientist, Tanya?”  Marc asked. 
“No, he is not.  But he’s a very brilliant man otherwise.”
“Mommy, how can he turn matter into energy?  What’s that have to do with taking me back to when there were dinosaurs?”
“We are matter, Cindy.  Our skin is matter, we are made of matter.  So, if he can turn us into pure energy, or light, he can take us anywhere we want to go with in seconds.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I don’t expect a seven year old to understand time travel.  It’s very complicated.  I didn’t even understand it before I started covering this story.  It’s been taking up my every waking minute.” 
Tanya excused herself to go to the bathroom, saying she would be right back.  She walked through a door into the hallway where the bathrooms were.  As she strolled towards the ladies room, her eye caught sight of a bead curtain at the end of the hallway with a bright light shining out from behind it.  Normally, she would not have paid any attention to this, but because this light was so bright and it looked so mysterious, her reporter spirit was aroused.  As she crepted closer to the curtain, all the light in the hallway seemed to diminish, while at the same time, the light behind the curtain became increasingly brighter.  Tanya reached the curtain, put a hand on it and pulled it back.  She reached up to shade her eyes from the blinding light.  Catching sight of a large, metal box type object, she reached her arm out and stepped towards it.
Suddenly, her world was full of light.  She was spinning in it; falling through it.  She was looking at her hands, her arms, her legs, her hair; light was flowing through her body, as if she was part of it.  Then, suddenly, Tanya began feeling sick.  Clutching her belly, she fell forward; out of the light and into the darkness.

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Head hurt.  .  .   Cool breeze.   .   .   Cold floor.  .    .    Cool breeze.   .   .   Warm hands .   .   .   Cool breeze.  Slowly, Tanya regained consciousness.  She opened her eyes and pushed herself to a sitting position.  Rubbing her head, she was aware that she was out on a stone street and that a woman was fanning her with a handkerchief.  Quietly, Tanya asked what happened.
“Good, you are capable of speech,” the woman declared.  Then she turned around to face her carriage.  “Will you assist this woman, my dear?”  At this summons, a man emmerged from their carriage and lifted Tanya up into his arms. 
“May I be of assistance, Madam?”  He asked.  Tanya nodded her head, still in a daze.  As she was placed in the open top carriage, she continued rubbing her head as she looked around. 
“Excuse me,”  she asked of her companions, “but, what happened?”
The woman promptly replied, “I do not know.  We were just driving along and happened to see you lying on the side of the road.”
“But, I was just inside Chowning’s Tavern with my husband and daughter.   .   .”
“My darling,”  the woman interrupted, “How could you be in Chowning’s Tavern?  Everyone knows Mr. Chowning has fallen sick with the measles.”
“Where did you receive that clothing, Madam?”  The man questioned.
“I got them at Boscov’s,”  Tanya replied.  “They were thirty percent off so I splurged.  What do you mean Mr. Chowning is down with the measles?  I was just in there, I swear it.  What about the bright light?”
“What bright light?” 
“The bright light I saw behind the bead curtain.  I stepped into it and I think I turned into the light, or something.  I was spinning and falling, and then.   .   .”  Tanya gazed at the two in the carriage with her, then stared long and hard at the people in the town.  “.   Then you came.  You and all these people.  Nobody is wearing regular clothes.”  Suddenly she stopped rubbing her head and sat bolt upright, eyes wide.  “ A bright light.   .    matter turning into energy.   .   .   it is possible!  Mr. Towsen was right!  It is possible!  I’ve been transported back in time!”
While Tanya was speaking in this insane way, Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds, the couple who had found her, had been whispering to each other.  Now, Mr. Reynolds muttered something to the driver of the carriage and they changed direction. 
In a few minutes, they arrived outside a quaint little home in the residential section of town.  They were let into the house by a maid and shown into the parlor.  Momentarily, a stout man, who appeared in his early fifties, entered the room and began conversing quietly with the Reynolds’.  Soon he walked over to Tanya and smiled disarmingly at her.
“I am Doctor Fletcher.  What is your name, Madam?”  He asked in a brisk voice. 
“My name’s Tanya.  Tanya Sheiling.”
“How are you feeling today, Miss Sheiling?”
“I’m feeling wonderful, thank you.  .  .  sir.  I was slightly confused but am feeling much better now.  May I ask you something?”
“Surely,”  the doctor replied.
“What year is it?”
Acting as if it was a natural question, Doctor Fletcher answered her. “1775, Madam.  Will you lay down on this bed, please?  Thank you.”   The doctor walked over to some shelves that were covered with medicines and jars.  He picked one of these jars up and brought it back to the bed.  Unscrewing the lid, he allowed Tanya to take a peak inside.   She cringed.
“Ugh!  What are those?”  She asked.  The reply was not at all satisfying. 
“Leaches.  You are a little confused and they might be of some assistance to you.”  The doctor turned the jar over and dumped the contents onto his patient’s stomach.  They crawled across her body until one of them found her arm.  It bit in deep and Tanya screamed.

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Once again, that bright light, engulfing Tanya’s body.  It leaked through her, making her part of it.  She was spinning, this time head over heels, spinning, twirling, held by the warmth of the light.  Then it was gone. 
Tanya opened her eyes and saw in front of her several rows of soldiers, all dressed in colonial uniforms.  She peaked out from behind the bushes where she was standing to see what was going on.  The men seemed to be having a drill of some sort.  Suddenly, someone whispered beside her.
“Oh, miss!  You bes’ be agettin away from here, miss.  If theys a kitch you.  .  .  well, less jus’ say, them soldiers aint gonna be wantin’ you round when they be’s a practicin’.”  Quickly turning around, Tanya saw a young black girl carrying a basket of laundry.
“Why wouldn’t they want me around?”  Tanya questioned.
Seeming shocked, the girl answered.  “Well, I think it be’s as plain as the hairs of mah face.  But, if you don’t know,” she added giggling, “you might get a shot at.”