wake
The man who was crouching behind the rock could have been a rock
before you saw him. He stood up right as you were passing him. You
gasp and hop backwards. Then you feel very faint. The man looks
exactly like your husband Frank Randall!
"Hello, madam", he says. "May I ask why you are running
about in your shift?"
Shift? you think. You are wearing a light patterned cooton dress.
"I am not-" you start to say, but the man is ignoring you.
He picks up his jacket, which is on the ground, dusts it off and puts
it on.
You gasp. It is a captains jacket, blood red and thigh length.
"Who the h*** are you?" you ask, astonished.
"I, madam," he says," am Jonathan Wolverton Randall,
captain of his majesty's eighth dragoons."
You break out into a run.
You wake, if thats what you would call waking. You don't remember
sleeping. You try to sit up and your head is pounding. You look
around. YOu are still in Scotland, at the bottom of the hill, but it
is somehow different. The woods are thicker, maybe. You stand up and
start walking toward the spot where you left your car.
