The Colonist

This part of the city was always a problem. Somewhere between the cobblestones and the old brownstones, the city had trapped echoes of the past. Granted, Sarah would get that just about anywhere she went, but it was particularly bad here. She staunchly ignored the little bevy of Red Coats arguing with colonists by the old state house. A few more minutes and they’d start shooting again. They did this every day and she just ignored it. It wasn’t like anyone else saw them, anyway. Turning the corner, she changed the music playing through her headphones and stopped to wait for the cross signal. That was when the strange woman grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Please, Miss, you have to help me. There…there was this light and I have no notion what’s happened to me. Everything is…changed. The city…the buildings. I don’t understand. Please, Miss.”
Sarah pulled her headphones off and looked the woman over. The dress was probably 18th century. A colonist then, or an early American. Straddling that line, at least. And not a reenactor. Admittedly, their outfits were very accurate, but there were little details you couldn’t fake. Like handwoven pre-industrial revolution cloth.
“You’re dead. Go into the light or whatever. And leave me alone.”
The young woman gasped and covered her mouth with her small hands.
She looked all around her now, eyes wide and clearly alarmed. Then she started to cry. Sarah sighed. She certainly hadn’t meant to make the ghost-girl cry, but she also just didn’t want to deal with this on a public street again. Pulling her headphones back on, Sarah decided to just ignore the histrionics. Maybe one of the other ghosts would take her in hand, give her the guide book and all that. Then the light changed and Sarah moved to take a step forward. She slammed into the strange girl and they both fell to the ground. With a strangled noise of surprise, Sarah got to her feet and stared at the woman.
“You’re…you’re not… Oh shit.”


Demons and Witchcraft

“It must be some manner of witchcraft.”
The young knight frowned and removed his helm, taking a moment to set it on a stump. Then he gestured at the blue glow emanating from the apparent tear in the sky.
“Look at it. The flames are unnatural and give off no heat.”
The shepherd boy who had first reported the light nodded, but he had a slight frown on his face.
“But, Sir Morris, mightn’t it be the Fair Folk?”
Sir Morris chuckled.
“Nothing but superstition. No, this is the work of witches in league with the devil himself. Take word to your village priest and I will continue this investigation.”
The boy saluted, turned, and ran back to the village leaving Sir Morris alone before the blue glow and the tear in the sky. Slowly, the young knight approached it. He felt drawn to the rift, almost compelled to reach out and touch it.
“I refuse to fall for your wiles, demon. Tempt me not!”
He raised his hand and shook his fist dramatically at the rift. That was when the ground began to shake. Taking a step back, Sir Morris tried to maintain his balance. That was when the figure stepped out of the rift. They were tall and wearing an odd white suit armor that covered their entire body, with a black reflective visor pulled down over their face.
“Back, demon!” Yelled Sir Morris, taking a few more backpedaling steps.
Then the figure looked at him and raised some kind of box to point it at him. Sir Morris raised his shield to deflect the demon’s magical attack and was nearly blinded by a flash of light. Then the figure held one hand up to him before turning to pass back through the rift. A moment later, the glow faded and the portal closed.

“So, how did the first run go, Angela?”
The young chrononaut pulled her helmet off with a laugh.
“Good, I think. I took a picture of the man I saw and I have some readings of the atmospheric conditions. Hopefully, that should be enough to confirm time period.”
“Anything interesting happen?”
She grinned wickedly and tossed the camera to the technician.
“I’m pretty sure he called me a demon.”