The Letter

“I found this letter in the Bible,” my mother said. “How did it get in there?”

I took it from her. It was an old letter: the paper had yellow and cracked edges; the ink had almost faded. I instantly recognized the writing. It was mine.

“Honestly, I have no idea.” I hadn’t any. She shook her head and reached for it. I backed away. “I’d like to read it if you don’t mind.”

I returned to work at the physics lab. “Whatever you do, don’t step into the chamber,” it warned. I didn’t believe it, thought it was some kind of hoax. After all, how could I write it in 1847?


“Harrison, could you come in here a moment?” Dr. Cavanaugh asked from the Einstein chamber, our space-time government experiment. We had problems over the last few weeks: objects had been mysteriously disappearing.

I put the letter down and headed towards him. “Sure Doc.”

I took a step inside the chamber. A blinding white light enveloped me, and that’s the last thing I remembered.
I awoke and realized I was no longer in the lab, no longer inside. I was in a pasture, a bull’s nose in my face.