One moment he was in 1812. Then, with a nauseating swirl of light, it was not.



Killian remembered the singular satisfaction of imparting his fist to another time traveler’s jaw. Then there was a dart in his chest, a whirlpool of light, his breakfast on his boots and 1812 was gone. The medical staff said nothing and neither did the armed escort that took him and his team to the infirmary. After hundreds of tests, the medical staff left leaving the team alone…

On his third attempt, Killian managed to sit up in bed. The fourth time he stayed upright because the room had sto...
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Published on August 17, 2016 12:44
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Scribbled Notes

C.B. Ash
Some thoughts, some ideas, and then the occasional random words tossed together. For more of the same, I'm also on Tumblr: http://cbairdash.tumblr.com/ ...more
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