"Wow, a book. But nothing came out of thin air to me. Only...let us see...oh yes! I was with my Aunt Clara, who is a woman of great respect, she formed the American Red Cross. I was with her and--" I was begenning to remember what had happened when Deliah interrupted with a puzzeled look on her face.

"A Red Cross? Do you mean like a symbol?"

I smiled. "No, like a giant band of nurses ready to help when someone needs it. Anyway, I was helping my aunt, we were in 1883, near Glen Echo, Maryland. Then she was going to help someone in a really bloody situation. Well, I detest the sight of blood, and...I think I blacked out. The next thing I knew, I was laying on the bench over there." I pointed.

((O hai!))

Felix stared around him, mouth half-open in shock. Everything, in all directions, was strange and different. People dashed to and fro, hands holding strange boxes over their ears. Those can't be telephones, he mused. They have no wires!

Soon he spotted a man who looked even more out-of-place than he felt. He was kneeling on the concrete, hunched over and staring at the ground.

Felix ran up to him. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice cracking on the last word. He coughed in disgust, and continued in a distinctly lower voice. "Who are you and where am I and how did I get here?"

((Ech. Short post because Felix likes to blame people and dialogue is necessary.))

Great idea! this is mine:

Character name: Elysa Da Vinci

Daughter of the inventor Leonardo Da Vinci

Age: 11

Long brown ringlets, green eyes during the day and greenish brown eyes during the night. She is about 5 feet and has tan skin.

Personality: Very talkative but elegant, avid reader, loves sports, loves animals and speaks up for things she loves. Friendly, trustworthy caring, brave and strrong.

Sorry! I haven't checked here for a while.

~

I stared at Deliah, racking my brain for ideas. No money, rags, a new world, Oh what could we do? Then I remembered the many victims of natural and man-made disasters that Aunt Clara had helped in the far past. They were far worse off than we were. Right? They slept under bridges or made some kind of shack, or under trees, or...

"A bridge!" I said aloud suddenly. "Do you see any? We could spend the night under one, then decide what to do in the morning."

Deliah smiled, for the first time since I had seen her. "That is a good idea," she said. "Let us see if there is one nearby. But quickly. I am tired from such a long journey--though I didn't move in the thick of it."

I laughed, but jumped on to a nearby bench, scanning the sky for an  hint of a bridge. But no river, stream, or any type of running water met my eyes.

I sighed and jumped off of the bench. "I suppose that we should start walking. Perhaps we will find a river."

"I suppose so," agreed Deliah, and we started to walk in search of a bridge. On the way, we saw some more motor cars, with quite rude drivers, many more women in the craiziest clothes, and two boys across the street who were talking intently with each other, the first of the men we had seen. One of them looked up and our eyes met, but neither of us stopped what we were doing.

"Women's clothing styles sure have changed, but men's are still the same," I said to Deliah quietly, as I noticed that the two boys were dressed quite normally.

Finally we came to a bridge and settled under it, then, exhausted, we fell to sleep peacefully.

~

I hope that it is all right to add the boys here. You never mentioned where you were before.

I was writing my first post yesterday... and then my sister decided to use the computer while I was in the bathroom... and quit out of Internet Explorer.

I was seriously regretting getting her a Doctor Who shirt for Christmas.

Maxwell Frankenstein

There is something wrong with my father. I'm certain of it. He's extremely paranoid, for one thing. Despite having a fair amount of money, the only part of my education he's really interested in is writing and reading. He insists on buying poetry books for every single one of my birthdays.

I hate poetry. So much.

I'm interested in science. I'm interested in explanations. My father, for some reason, hates science. I think it has something to do with his brothers, but the one time I did dare to ask, two years ago, my father just glared at me.

Father burns books, if he finds me reading ones about science when I'm not supposed to. Which is why I'm reduced to reading by a tiny candle at about two in the morning. This one, the one I'm reading right now, well, not really reading it, because it's lying on my bed and I'm peeking about the window in the space between the curtains.

All the street lamps have gone out.

We have our lamp lighters. I don't how much money Father inherited, but it was quite a lot. He founded his own company, and has made substantial profits. I don't think it's a coincidence Father chose the area of town that gets lit by the lamp lighters first.

Because they've all gone out now, and it's cloudy, no stars nor moon to see by.

Mother and Abby have gone ahead to Vienna with my older cousin Charlie. Just me and Father in the house right now.

I hear the door open downstairs. As far as I know, Father hasn't gone out for any reason, and he was home for dinner.

Footsteps sound up the stairs. I don't know those foot steps. I have lived in this house for fourteen years, twelve of them in this very room. I know every creaking spot, every tread of every person, but I don't know this one. It lumbers. It is slow, steady, and makes the wood on the stairs creak in places it shouldn't.

I can't hear Father's foot steps anywhere.

All I can think about is the monster making those sounds. They reach the top of the landing, and then there's some sort of burbling noise.

I fall back from my sitting position on my bed and I keep falling.

I fall against something hard and bonk my head. "Ow." I rub my eyes and look around. I'm at the side of a road of some sort. I stand up, but sway sideways and trip to the ground.

It's not horribly cold, my head hurts, and I'm seeing black spots. It wouldn't hurt to close my eyes... just for a few minutes.

Too late, I realize I'm still in my striped pajamas.

Elexhiia Lucy Earhart

Daughter of Amelia Earhart

16 

lives in 1951

loves flying just like her mom

lives in Sydney, Australia working day and night try to find clues about her mother.

Hates Hawaii for not making sure Amelia was as safe as humanly possible.

VERY spunky, creative, inventive, and loves adventure.

Higher, Higher I shout, Although  there is no one around to hear me the sensation is amazing. My readings tell me that I am higher than my mom's dreams.  

Okay stop. I have decided that actually I am from the 25th century but have timed travelled back to my mom's time. Let me explain. Amelia Earhart accidently traveled from her time to the 25th century with m, a stowaway in her plane. My dad decided that Amelia deserved to know she even had a daughter and put me on the plane while pretending to be one of the repair men fixing it up. When my mom flew into the 42nd dimension she crash landed and died, but for unknown reasons I managed to survive the time jump through the 42nd dimension and into the 25th century where I was raised and then on my 16th birthday given a container of time tears to drop on my locket so I could travel to my mom's time.

I soared through the clouds laughing and smiling, thankful that nobody could see me in my "futuristic" look. I chuckle thinking of what my mom might say if she saw me in my wings. I swoop down and land on some remote little island and fold my wings, take off my etesyr suit and put on my change of clothes.

My body reacts before my mind does. I spin around, pull out a knife, dodge the arrow and wait for the next one. It comes, faster than the last one and from a different angle. I hear the glass shattering. Then sensation starts and the time tears do their work. 

"What's the date, my good sir?" I ask a gentleman walking by. He tells me the time, the day, the month, and then the most important the year. "2012" 

Thanks! I never read the book, but I might soon.

I will let the boys catch up, so either they let one of us go, or they can tell.