Native Americans

In my time it was June 5, 1942. The only thing that’s certain is that it is summer; the year depends on—well, it depends on what year you were living in when all this happened.

Tad was certain that if he mixed ammonia with a chemical he had brewed called Dyproxylin, then heated this mixture in a flask to boiling, chilled it suddenly, you could, by breathing the fumes, project yourself forward in time.

Thin lightnings winked from above. The cloven air boomed behind them. He felt a chill, deeper than the night cold. But he eased his pace. There was no more reason for hurry.

Thin lightnings winked from above. The cloven air boomed behind them. He felt a chill, deeper than the night cold. But he eased his pace. There was no more reason for hurry.

“. . . I got in the way of the buffalo. I couldn’t escape. So I held up my hands and shouted, ‘Stop!’ Then, out of nowhere, a beautiful lady in a white leather dress came to help me.”

Be kind to those who feel different and afraid.

I am slightly lost in space and time right now and need to get home in order to make sure my children get milk for their breakfast.

We came by the raft dishonestly. We’d only meant to do a little fishing. It was cool and nice under the big willow with its whips trailing over the water. Christ, it was a scorcher of a day. The whole town must have fallen asleep, along with Jim and me. When we finally did wake, if we ever did, the raft was too far along in space and time to return it. We could no longer reverse ourselves, our motions in all five dimensions, than fly to the moon.

“Show us,” the emperor ordered. “Show us all how this little llama speaks.”

I’m not cut out to be a time traveling bandit.

We don’t know if we can change time or effect it at all.”