Time travel collaborative story
July 13, 2020 at 4:25 pm #116155
Hi, y’all! This is a collaborative story me and some other featherheads (term for devoted Wingfeather Saga fans) started in our other forum. We moved here, and decided to continue it. We have five people in it, but I think it would be ok if more joined if y’all want to. Either way, here it is!
God is great, milk-shakes are good, and people are crazy.July 13, 2020 at 5:03 pm #116159
Yay, we started it againJuly 14, 2020 at 10:49 am #116193
Whoo-hoo! Thanks for starting this, Wingiby! But I don’t Kylie is on here, so I guess we lost Denali and her 🙁
"A writer is a world trapped in a person. " ~Victor HugoJuly 14, 2020 at 1:34 pm #116196
Wait, Thwap, did you see my reply to you on stories and fantasies? I’m really excited that there are other people who know what CAP is!
But to the story. Where did we leave off?July 14, 2020 at 3:41 pm #116200
Sorry, Peter! I just saw it now. So sorry! My reply is there now.
As for the story, I’m not sure
"A writer is a world trapped in a person. " ~Victor HugoJuly 14, 2020 at 5:04 pm #116203
I copied everything! I can post our posts back on here if y’all want, but we ended with most of our characters back stories. We can start on how they all get to the Civil War Era, I’ve already got mine mostly typed out so I can post it soon.
I don’t know if Marcus is joining us, and I’m super bummed about Kylie and Denali!
God is great, milk-shakes are good, and people are crazy.July 14, 2020 at 6:25 pm #116208
Yeah wish they were here. 🙁July 15, 2020 at 10:30 pm #116249
I don’t think Marcus is going to join us. He said he might occasionally pop into the forums, but couldn’t do any collaborative stories or anything. 🙁 But I think Kylie might make her way over here, because she said she thought she could do Story Embers, but I’m not sure. After all, there hasn’t really been any sign of here. 🙁 And as for Denali, I think she said she could probably do Story Embers in a YEAR so she won’t be joining us anytime soon 🙁 (that was kinda a lot of sad faces)
Also, I’m not really sure where I should start on my post. Ideas?
"A writer is a world trapped in a person. " ~Victor HugoJuly 16, 2020 at 4:42 pm #116265
AHHHH!!! I guess it’s up to us. Should we play their characters, or wait until they can pop in?
Maybe you could start by realizing you’ve got a homework assignment about the Civil War, and you decide to do some “research” about it. Or you want to take a trip to that time. Then, we can post and make our characters meet up in somehow. I still have to post about Silvia’s sudden change of events anyway. By the way, My character is in Southern Illinois, but we can change that if y’all want. 😉 Also, I’ll try to put a brake on my historical story inserts. 😛
God is great, milk-shakes are good, and people are crazy.July 16, 2020 at 10:57 pm #116276
I think maybe we should control their characters? I mean, I feel really bad doing it, but since Marcus won’t be able to do the story (even if he does pop in, he said he wouldn’t do collabs), and I have no idea if Kylie’s actually joining, and Denali won’t be on for at least a year, maybe we should just control their characters then apologize to them when they get here? 😛 Otherwise, would we pretend like the characters were always there or have them enter the story? (I’m thinking probably the first if we don’t control them) But, I don’t want to make the decision or push anyone into doing what they don’t want to. So, what do y’all think?
Oooh good idea, Wingiby!! Thank you so much! Honestly, if I was better at time management, I probably would’ve had my post all typed out and ready, but unfortunately, I stink at it and will just be starting it! (Sooo sorry!) I’ve been trying to spend less time on the computer and my other family members have needed it A LOT lately so it’s been a wee bit hard to get a turn 😛
Southern Illinois? That’s great! I don’t think you have to change it 😀 Wow that was long, sorry!
"A writer is a world trapped in a person. " ~Victor HugoJuly 17, 2020 at 12:38 pm #116281
Maybe we could pop their characters in once we get ours established and our plot figured out; because with to few people controlling a bunch of characters, it might get confusing. Also, will we have a villain or something, or do they just time-travel? Will they go through to different time periods and solve problems there, or just explore? I’m not very sure… Maybe there could be a villain who learns to time-travel, and then decides to change history or something; then gangs up with famous bad-guys from history, maybe in a plot to overthrow the world! I’m thinking bad-guys like Nero, famous gangsters (Al Capone), Adolf Hitler… What do y’all think? I’m probably getting a little over the top, but hey! It’s TIME-TRAVEL! And combining the worlds most notorious criminal, eesshh! OK, sorry. I’ll stop. 😛
But ha ha, Thwapling! I know, I’ve been trying to spend less time on electronics as well; and I really need to go back and proof-read my next part so I can post it here. But I think it’s fine, since we’re all still trying to figure out what we’re doing and stuff. No hurry. 😉
God is great, milk-shakes are good, and people are crazy.July 17, 2020 at 8:53 pm #116301
Both of those are great ideas! I really like the idea about the villain gathering notorious bad guys from history! I’m all for it! What do you think, Peter?
Thanks, Wingiby! You’re always so kind understanding.
Alright, here’s my first post for Cassie:
In 1861 the……
Cassiopeia sighed and closed the book. She never was one for reading, so dull history books bored her to death. Especially when she had to write a report on one.
After all, Cassiopeia wondered , why read about history when you can actually experience it?
Perking up at the idea, a mischievous grin dominated her face.
Cassiopeia pushed herself up from the plump couch she had been reclining on and stood. She walked into the kitchen where her parents were wrapping up dinner.
Her father, Professor Brown, turned his head as she approached, causing his reddish hair to fall in front of glasses. Cassiopeia strongly resembled him, sharing the same splatter of freckles, bay colored hair, and sharp nose. On the other hand, her mother and brother, Perseus, mirrored each other, both possessing dark brown hair and stark blue eyes.
Cassiopeia’s mother, also known as Professor Brown to her and her husband’s history students, glanced up from finishing the last of her dinner. “Yes, Cassie?”
“Well,” she began, fingering the edge of the history book she still held, “You see… We’re supposed to do this report on the Civil War and I thought I’d get a much better grade if I went there and saw first hand what it was like.” She looked at them hopefully.
“Y’know, Cassie,” her father sighed, “someday you’re going to have to learn to just read the book.”
“I know, I know! How about next time I won’t time travel and then I’ll read it,” Cassiopeia suggested, fully intending to do the opposite on her following history assignment.
“Alright,” he consented, “But this time, try not to knock Napoleon’s hat off, alright?”
Reddening in the face, Cassiopeia rolled her eyes and left the room to prepare for her trip to the Civil War time period.
Was this good? If we don’t want Cassie and Percys’ last name to be Brown, we can change that. And Peter, I know in the Flabbit Room you said Percy had dark brown hair and blue eyes, so that’s why I described him that way, but if you changed your mind or just didn’t like the way I described him, we can pretend I never said that about him 😉
"A writer is a world trapped in a person. " ~Victor HugoJuly 18, 2020 at 10:02 am #116302
Your welcome, Thwapling! Your post was really good, and funny! That bit about Napoleon; ha ha! 😛 I’ll try to get mine finished soon, and then I’ll post! I just wish I could read and experience history…
God is great, milk-shakes are good, and people are crazy.July 18, 2020 at 10:59 am #116305
I bawled and cried like a baby. I mean, wouldn’t anyone if they suddenly ended up in a place unfamiliar to them with no hope of return? I threw myself on the ground and wailed. Cicero whined and nosed me gently. I sat up and squeezed him tightly. After about a half hour of feeling desperately sorry for myself, my mind wandered to Rome, to Mother and Father, and stuff that had happened quite recently… I remembered hearing about this Son of God, a Jesus, they called Him. King of the Jews. He had been crucified, but His disciples said He had risen. The leaders of the Jewish synagogues denied this, but I had heard my father speak to a witness of the risen Savior. This Jesus had appeared to over 500 “brethren,” and this man had seen Him and was visiting Rome. I had listened to their conversation through a closed door. After their talk, Father seemed changed. He spoke to Mother in hushed tones, and started going to strange meetings. That was a week ago. And he stopped going to the gladiator fights with uncle Davious.
Now, I wondered if Jesus really was The Son of God. I decided to try praying to Him, for what harm could it do? I had nothing else to try. I sniffled and tried my best to sound dignified. I don’t know if He heard me, but praying did help calm me down, and I gathered my wits about me. Sitting here crying my eyes out certainly wouldn’t get me anywhere, so I stood up and clicked to Cicero. I would have to get a move on if I was to find shelter before dark.
There was a woods nearby, and quite naively I stumbled into it. It was a long walk, for I was interested in everything I saw. It was only by God’s grace I didn’t get eaten by anything. By the time I emerged from the trees, I saw a little log cabin sitting in a dirt yard. All around was plowed land. Well, I walked right up onto its porch and knocked on the door.
It was opened by a woman in a white apron with tanned skin and a weathered face. She looked at me in perplexion, and it was only then that I realized I was dressed much differently than her. I had on one of my loose lavender gowns, and a silver circlet held back my annoying hair. It certainly was a contrast to that of this home-spun country woman’s dark woolen blouse. And it didn’t help when Cicero growled at a couple of large dogs that lounged by the cabin (what great watch dogs). The woman looked at him with wide eyes, and shut the door. I stood there dumbly, not sure what to make of it.
Suddenly, I heard a deep voice speak from behind me. Turning around I saw a man with a big beard and a rough hat pointing a metal stick at Cicero. He had a farmer’s tan, or rather a burn. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but he didn’t sound very happy. I heard the stick click. Whatever it was, it was obviously dangerous. I slowly reached out and hugged my cat around the neck and patted him. I smiled. The man looked at me, and grunted something. A skinny boy rounded the corner of the house, saw me, and ran over to the man, chattering excitedly. They conversed for a few minutes while I broke into a sweat.
At any rate, they eventually decided I couldn’t be of much harm, and welcomed me into the cabin; but I was forced to tie Cicero up outside. This we did with a lot of gesturing and grunting, for I spoke Latin and they spoke English. Finally, we all sat down to lunch, but it was a rather awkward one if you can understand. Then, they sat me down in a chair, and the boy flew out the door and down the road.
An hour later (I was still sitting, unsure of what to do) he returned with another man, who had a black moustache and black hair and deep olive skin. He sat down across from me and looked rather disturbed, for he kept glancing at the door where Cicero prowled unhappily. Finally he turned to me, cocked his head, and spoke. I couldn’t understand what he was saying at first, but after a moment I could make out a few words. So it was we had a halting conversation along these lines:
“Who are you?”
“I’m Victor. Where from?”
Victor tilted his head even farther and squinted his eyes. He seemed to be studying me.“What your birth date?”
“April 15, 19.”
“I know! But tat not possible.”
“It is. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Nuh uh. Only date that is B.C.”
“Before Christ died.”
“Oh. Oh dear. Yes, April 15, 19 B.C. Esshh.”
“Oh dear indeed.”
I think you can see where this was going. Anyhow, after much more speculation and questioning, I think the story got out well enough. Victor was an Italian man, and our languages are quite close.
“I fell in my well.”
“And fell here.”
“Time-travel. Not my fault. Sorry.”
Anyway, the North family, as they were called, offered to take me in for the time being. They still didn’t understand the whole thing, and to tell the truth; neither did I. But they knew I needed somewhere to stay, and so here I was. Their two oldest sons had joined the war effort, and they needed some extra help around the farm. I eventually convinced them that Cicero was of no ill effect and could catch mice and rats very well.
So it was that I became Silvia North. I helped Mrs. North in the kitchen and picked up a good deal of the English Language. Even though the work was hard and I was quite feeble, it soon toughened me up and I actually enjoyed it. There is a sense of accomplishment in knowing you helped set the food on the table.
Since many Latin words are already used in English, and I understood grammar quite well, I got on fine. Mr. North plowed the land with Hutch, his fifteen year old son. Little Nadia, their five year old daughter, loved me almost instantly. They were all very kind, and I grew to love them in turn. I even got my own space in the loft, where Hutch slept.
He scooted his straw and tick mattress as far away as he could, and then we hung up a curtain. He grumbled a bit, but after a while we became good friends. I was the only one, he said, that would actually listen to what he had to say; especially about the war.
“It’s a war, ya see, between the North and da South — damn those rebs!”
“Why is there a war?”
“It’s over keepin’ the Union together, mostly. And ‘bout slaves. The South wants ‘em, and would like to spread it to other states, but we won’t have it. We’ll whip ‘em and send ‘em home whining like the ratty dogs they are. It’ll be over ‘fore a weeks done.”
“I want to join, but ma won’t let me and pa ain’t too keen on it either. I could become a drummer boy at least; kids as old as twelve have signed up!”
“Did your brothers join the North?”
“Tod did, but I’m not sure about Eb. He hasn’t written home yet, but he hinted to me his thoughts on the whole war a week ‘fore he left. Says he hates slavery, but another kind of slavery too. The kind of people working away in factories for meager wages barely enough to keep ‘em going. Says he hates succession, but he also can’t see how a whole region can still live if their whole way of life is upset. Says he hates nullification, but also hates laws passed from Congress that favors one part of the country and not the other. So, I think, I think he’s gone South.”
I sat listening to this in silence. I had learned a lot about America and the war from reading the newspapers (the best I could anyhow), and listening to people talk. But this was different. I pondered what Hutch had said for a few minutes before answering.
“You know, I get Eb’s point, Hutch. I get it well. But I side with you. I know slaves, and they’ve told me how unpleasant it is to be one. But I also worry about what will happen after this war. Slaves are often poorer off on their own than when they were slaves.”
Hutch nodded. “I likes the way ya talk. You understand well.” He looked down at his feet. “Because others don’t. Pa’s a great man, Siv. He is well respected. But rumors got around that Eb joined the rebs. We’re dubbed “copperheads” now. I mouthed off against a man at the general store who said Pa ought to larn his sons right… And later a man — I think it was the same fellow, Charlie Higgens — spooked Pa’s team on the bridge so it nearly toppled over.”
I didn’t like the war. Not at all. It made good folks fight who used to be good neighbors. Nuh Uh. Of all times, why was it this time?
But over all, we got along fine. I helped with the planting and chores, and went for horseback pleasure rides.
Now, you might be thinking I don’t miss Rome. But that isn’t true. I DO. With all my heart. Especially at night, when I have time to think. I miss Father, and the way he would teach me to sharpen his daggers and would take me horseback riding. I was the only child, so maybe what he would have done with a son he did with me instead. I remember Mother, patiently teaching me my needlery until I had mastered it; and how she would tell me the old myths at night while I laid in bed, Cicero on my lap.
I know they miss me, and I wonder what they are doing. They must have been frantic when they discovered I was gone. I have to find a way to return to them, somehow.
Many nights, my pillow is wet with tears.
(Ok, I know that was REALLY long, but I needed to illiterate on the situation 😉 I hope you guys weren’t bored to death…. sorry!)
God is great, milk-shakes are good, and people are crazy.July 18, 2020 at 11:58 am #116306
Your post wasn’t boring AT ALL! I was hooked the whole way through, and I’m really excited that we are finally, actually starting! (I know we have already started, it just feels more official now) Do you think Cassie and Percy should arrive at the North household when they time travel, so we can have them meet up that way, or do you guys have another idea?
I’ll work on my next post today, and hopefully Crazywriter will be able to post soon, too!
"A writer is a world trapped in a person. " ~Victor Hugo
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