Sam opened Mrs. Steers' screen door and knocked on the
interior door, trying to look through the curtained windows. He waited for a few moments. Clump clump clump… Approaching
footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor from inside. A shadow appeared in the window. The lock
clicked and the door opened.
"Good morning, Sam. Do come in." Mrs.
Steers was wearing a long coat and a wool hat.
Sam stepped into the familiar hallway.
"Are you getting ready to leave?" said
Sam. "If you are, I don't want to
hold you up. I could come back later."
"No, I just took out the trash," said Mrs.
Steers.
"Would it be okay for me to borrow some books for
my class report? I promise not to keep
them too long."
What he really wanted to ask was about time-travel,
but Sam began to chicken out. He wasn't
sure he could ask her to teach him the supposed art. What I am I thinking? Do I believe this nutty old lady? Really!
Time-travel? He stood hem-hawing.
Mrs. Steers evaluated Sam's bewildered facial
expression for a moment, before breaking the awkward silence. "Would you like to learn?"
Sam's train of thought derailed. "What?"
Mrs. Steers raised her eyebrows. "Do you want to
learn to time-travel?"
At first, he wanted to say Look, weirdo lady, keep your
stupid fantasy to yourself, but he couldn't, since he was brought up to be
polite and sincere, thanks to his mom.
And besides, he had a dare to keep.
He hesitated, then grinned and said with fake
enthusiasm. "Sure, why not. Teach me and let's go somewhere." His mind jumped to possible conclusions.
We'd probably end up in a bedroom closet
with a flashlight browsing travel books with photographs of China or France or
even Mars. Or perhaps the basement where
we could pretend to explore some ancient tomb?
How about the bathtub and pretend to be sailing on the Titanic? Although those didn't sound like the stories that
she had told him.
Let's get this over with. Then maybe no
more stories.
For some unknown reason, his thoughts turned on him. But what if she could travel back in
time? Those stories she told… well…
they seemed so real… Maybe they truly did it… Sam felt a stirring of curiosity despite his
disbelief.
"Come this way," said Mrs. Steers. "I see you have your travel bag." Sam gripped the cloth strap running across
his chest.
"Oh, I just brought my notebook. In case you didn't
want me to take your books upstairs."
Sam followed her through the library into the back parlor, the room he
had seen through the crack in the curtains the night before.
Drawn purple curtains darkened the room. Mrs. Steers clicked on the table lamp. The light bulb flickered like a real
flame. Mrs. Steers picked up a brown
shoulder bag from a side table next to the pocket doors, slipping the leather
strap over her head. She pointed at one
of the chairs encircling the table.
"This is my favorite chair," said Mrs.
Steers sitting down in a high-back arm chair upholstered in plush green with a
gray stripe. Sam opted for the chair
across from her, but she motioned for him to sit next to her – another
high-backed arm chair covered with red silk upholstery woven with golden bees. He snuggled his own traveling bag between his
hip and the chair's arm.
Mrs. Steers held out her hand. "I will need to
hold your hand until you learn the process and the incantation."
"Couldn't I just learn it now?" Sam didn't want to hold her hand, gripping
the shoulder strap tighter. He hated
hand-holding. "Give me your
hand," his mom would say to him when he was little. "The market is
busy and I don't want you to get lost."
Or wherever they were. He heard
the words, but never did the action. He never
got lost. He also hadn't forgotten the
last time he had held his dad's hand.
"We should do it this way since this will be your
first trip," said Mrs. Steers noticing he hadn't offered her his
hand. "If you'd like, I can just
place my hand on your arm. With that
connection, the incantation will move us together as one."
"Are you warm enough?" said Mrs.
Steers. Sam came back to present
day. " I should've asked where you
want to go first, then determined the best attire."
"I'm fine, thank you." said Sam.
"Great. I
have my traveling bag. I always travel
with some basic necessities." Mrs.
Steers patted her bag. "So where
shall we go?"
First, Sam thought about several places, but
remembered what Bon had said. London in
1888 during the time of Jack the Ripper.
Perfect! That's what the dare
was all about to begin with. My report
for history class would certainly get me an A+!
Yeah right. More like an F!
Sam could see it now. Standing in
front of the class, while Mr. Martin questioned him about his report.
"Let me get this straight," said
Mr. Martin. "You and some old lady
hid in the closet and pretended it was the back streets of London and wandered
around checking out the sights?"
"Yes, sir," said Sam.
"Well, that is the most ridiculous
story I have ever heard! Here's your F
and I want you to write one hundred times "I will never make up stories
and use them to write a phony report!"
Sam tossed aside the idea of getting an F. He would get an A for his excellent research
that he did on his own. Right now, it
was about the dare.
Sam spoke up. "How
about London in 1888? I want to see what
London was like when Jack the Ripper was there.
I could use it for my history report."
With a slight grin, he planned to become a hero. He would leave the newspaper with the
fingerprint at the crime scene and help solve the mystery of Jack the Ripper.
"I should have guessed. You have the mind and curiosity of a true detective
and lover of mysteries. We should be
dressed warmly enough for London at that time of year." Mrs. Steers looked
at Sam. "Just one moment, let me grab something."
She stood up, crossed the room, and scanned a shelf
full of books. "Let's see. Ah, here we are. London and Its Environs. Aha… and here's a map of London around
1900. Not exactly 1888, but these will
have to do." She slipped them into her shoulder bag.
"Now, do you remember any dates or places of the
murders?" asked Mrs. Steers.
Sam knew one date -- the one for the murder of
Catherine Eddowes, the Ripper's fifth victim.
He did remember one location.
"I remember something about St. James's
Place? I don't remember the exact location,
but I know it was near there. It would
have been September 29th. That part I am
sure about since it was the same date as my dad's birthday."
"Good," said Mrs. Steers. “Let's arrive in
the morning, that way we will have plenty of time to tour London. Time check… it is 10:19 a.m." Mrs.
Steers glanced at the clock on the mantel.
"First, a few things you must remember. This is critical, so listen carefully."
"Remember we will not be seen or heard. We're like being ghosts visiting another
time and place, even though the people we will see are really the ghosts. Strange as it may sound, our senses operate
as normal. We'll feel temperatures. Breathe normally. Smell odors.
And believe me, London in 1888 may be incredibly smelly. I know.
I've been there." Mrs.
Steers made a sour face and continued with her instructions.
"We can hear conversations and sounds. Try to avoid walking through anyone or being
walked through. It's a odd feeling I don't
like and don't believe you will either.
Don't worry about being hungry. I
have yet to get hungry. Don't ask
why. I only know these are the rules
that were written in the book. Make sure
you keep everything on or with you at all times. And most important, don't lose
anything."
Sam nodded.
"I understand."
Mrs. Steers gazed at him. "Sam, a lot of this neither Albert nor I
could explain. The book doesn't explain
the rules either. We simply follow
them. So far, so good.”
In a soft voice, Mrs. Steers said. "Let's begin. First, you have to be comfortable. Second, you must clear your mind of all
thoughts and focus on the date, time, and place you want to go. It sometimes works if we both look at a
photograph and concentrate on it, but for this first attempt, let's see how it
goes. I don't know if it will work, but we'll see."
She reviewed their destination. "We've chosen London, St. James's
Place, and September 29th, 1888, and let's say… precisely nine in
the morning. And last I will recite the
incantation and you listen while concentrating on the location, time, and date. Now close your eyes… Clear your mind... And concentrate…" Sam closed his eyes tightly fidgeting just a
bit in his chair. Mrs. Steers began
reciting some Latin words in a monotone voice.
"Latebras ab historia de clara specks o temporis
Jeannot mitte mecum obsecro meo voluit in tempore." She stopped and there
were a few moments of silence.
Sam said with eyes still closed. "How am I
supposed to remember all of that?"
Mrs. Steers giggled.
"Funny you should say that.
I asked Albert the same thing on our first trip. You concentrate on the time and place while
listening to the sound of my voice. I
can do it all at once and be any place in a matter of moments, but that's come
with lots of practice. Since this is
your first time, it's hard to learn each step."
Sam relaxed. His eyes still shut tight. Softly he repeated over and over to
himself. "London… St. James Place…
September 29th, 1888 at precisely nine in the morning..." Sam concentrated on their destination. Mrs. Steers began again repeating the words
of the incantation.
"Latebras ab… historia de clara specks… o
temporis Jeannot mitte… mecum obsecro meo… voluit in tempore…"
He could still feel Mrs. Steer's hand on his arm. Mrs. Steers' slowly chanted in a steady
monotone voice although she seemed to be moving away. His mind still focused on "London… St.
James's Place… September 29th, 1888 at precisely nine in the
morning..."
"Latebras
ab… historia de clara specks… o temporis Jeannot mitte… mecum obsecro meo…
voluit in tempore…"
Sam began to feel funny like he drifted up out of the
chair. He began to feel woozy and his stomach felt like it would flip
over. Sam began swaying, slow at first,
then from side to side, then faster.
His breathing became heavier.
Rushes of airs brushed through his hair.
"…London… St. James's Place… September 29th,
1888… at precisely nine… in the morning"
The chair felt lie it dissolved around him. First the silk upholstery of the arms. Next, the seat… then the back… It felt like he had stood up, without
actually doing it, and floating in the air.
Sam found it hard to concentrate.
"…London… St. James's Place…
September 29th…"
"Latebras
ab historia… de clara specks o… temporis Jeannot mitte… mecum obsecro meo
voluit… in tempore… a de clara specks o… temporis Jeannot mitte…"
"…year 1888… at precisely nine… in the morning…"
"…mecum obsecro meo voluit… in tempore…"
Without warning, Mrs. Steers' reciting faded. Sam stopped concentrating as hard but remained
perfectly still. He was now
standing. The floor was solid under his
feet. Afraid to open his eyes, he no
longer heard Mrs. Steers. There was
silence, then out of nowhere…
BONG
Sam jumped. His eyes shut tight. It sounded like a church bell.
BONG
He grimaced as a foul smell that slithered under his
nose.
BONG
I think I'm going to be sick...
BONG
Sam heard a repeating echoing sound like something clattering on stone growing nearer…
Clip-clop… Clip-clop… Clip-clop…
BONG
What’s that noise?
BONG
BONG
Clip-clop… Clip-clop…
The sound drew
closer.
BONG
BONG
Clip-clop…
Clip-clop…
BONG
Clip-clop…
Clip-clop…
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