Monthly Archives: March 2015


Every story should answer six questions. Who? What? When? Where? How? And Why? Travelers answers some of those and others are up to the reader’s imagination.
Who – thirteen people.
What – travel back in time.
When – depends on which side of the gateway you’re looking at. On one side, from 1755-1914. On the other side, from 1777-2034.
Where – From several different places in the world to MacKinnon’s Farmstead on the east coast of Maine.
How – Does anyone really know how time portals work?
Why – ?????

There’s an old saying, “All roads lead to Rome.” Well in this case, all roads lead to Hamish MacKinnion’s farm in Maine.


MacKinnon Farmstead – May 28, 1919
Fierce, gale-force winds whipped the trees behind the house. The building shook with thunder induced vibrations. Lightning bolts flashed non-stop across the sky and pounding waves struck the rocks halfway up the cliff below the house.
Sara Carter stood by the mantel and looked at the photograph of Charles in his uniform taken just before he left for France. He looks so much like James. She picked up a letter from under the frame and read:
“We are sorry to inform you PFC Charles Carter was killed at the Battle of Cantigny, May 28, 1918. He was buried there with honors.”
Tears blurred her vision. Why. Why do men have to go to war? There have been so many wars in the history of this place. Culloden. The Revolutionary War. The War of 1812. The Civil War. When will it end? She turned, wrapped her arms around herself and walked to the window. James said I’d be the last of the family to own the MacKinnon Farmstead. He was right. I am the last.
She walked around the room touching little mementos. She stroked the back of a rocking chair. Great-great-grandda Hamish made this for Grandmother, Elspeth. So many babies have been rocked in it. Will there ever be any more, or will Charles be the last? She touched a photo of her parents on the mantel. Mam, Da, forgive me. I just can’t go on.
Sara climbed the stairs to the third floor. The lantern in the window reflected out into the storm. She opened the door and stepped out onto the railed walkway that encircled the third story. The wind immediately attacked its new target. Her light-colored hair became a swirling nebulous around her head as it came loose from the pins holding it in place. A flash of lightening illuminated her frail figure as she climbed onto the railing. She spread her arms wide and jumped.