#TimeTravelingGhost Part 17: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part B

#Mastoprompt #TimeTravelAuthors 7/5.

My first impression was one of Spartan elegance. It was jarring after the roar and excess of 1920s Paris. Instead of the riotous laughter of the Folies, I heard the murmur of people talking and the occasional clink of a glass all #around me. The room was a lounge lined with aluminum tables and chairs, all lightweight and purposeful. Soft-colored fabrics upholstered the seats: beige, lavender, and gentle pinks. Murals adorned the cloth walls in dreamy pastels: parrots, palms, and Rio’s own Sugarloaf Mountain. It was utilitarian and efficient, a tasteful example of modernism.

From the murals, my eyes were drawn to windows showing the countryside drifting below. A sparkling river was so close that the people on the barges were visible. #Beyond, quaint villages nestled in the morning mist.

Finally, a couple arguing caught my attention. On second glance, the argument seemed one-sided. A woman in a white linen dress addressed her twin sister, seated at one of the tables, in a shrill, New York-accented voice. “You need to listen to me. Please, it’s important. You’re going to die.”

Her sister paid no attention and instead calmly talked to the man across from her. She took languid sips of a red cocktail. Despite her sister’s vehement words, she was as unruffled as the liquid in her glass.

Then it hit me. No one was paying attention to the woman. Normally, if a person makes a scene, people peer at them. Instead, everyone continued their conversations, reading their papers, or watching the scenery go by without blinking.

The woman at the table looked past her sister in my direction, said something to her companion, and laughed. Whatever she said caused the woman in white to turn around. Our eyes met, and shock spread across her face.

She stared. “Madam. You can see me?”

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 18: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part C

#TimeTravelAuthors 7/5 Loops 7/9. POST-SIZED snippet (Word: sky)

The standing sister repeated herself, “You can see me.” This time it was a statement rather than a question. The seated sister remained oblivious to us.

I studied them again as I decided how to act. They were more than sisters. If they’d stood side by side, I'd not have been able to tell one from the other, except that one wore white and the other mauve.

I nodded and walked over. “Yes, I see you.”

The seated sister looked up, lips pursed. “Excuse me? Were you talking to me?”

The standing one took my arm. “You must help me, please.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

The seated woman’s eyebrows pinched. “Neither do I. Now, please stop bothering us, or I’ll call a steward.”

“Come, please,” the other woman pulled on my arm and pointed to an unoccupied table. “Let’s talk over there.”

We were barely seated when she began speaking. “I’m Emily Pang, and you might not believe this, but I’m a ghost. That’s me sitting over there. I’m still alive, and I have to warn myself—them. But you think I’m crazy, don’t you? Ghosts, who believes in ghosts? I don’t—didn’t. But it’s true, I’ll be dead in a few days...”

I held up my hand to stop the torrent of words. “I…”

The woman rushed ahead. “...If you would explain to them. I must save them. Please. It’s crazy, but…”

“Stop!”

She shut her mouth with an almost audible snap.

I kept my hand up while I studied her. She looked to be in her forties. Plain, but with a touch of class that her white linen dress accented. Its long lines made her appear taller, but I guessed she was of mid-height. I couldn’t see her hair because of one of those bucket-like hats popular during the Great Depression. Her #sky-blue eyes, almost indigo, were her most outstanding feature.

A steward appeared, perhaps summoned by my raised hand. He gave me an odd look when I ordered Champagne cocktails for the pair of us, but he took the order without comment.

When he’d left, I spoke. “I believe you. I’m a ghost too. Luminelle Bijou, that’s my name.” I almost blushed remembering Mademoiselle Baker.

I would have continued, but she launched into speech again, “Then you must have died here too.”

“Maybe, I don’t know. Actually, I don’t know where here is.”

“The Hindenburg, May 3rd, 1937, on the 6th I burn to death!”

The Hindenburg crash. I’d picked a wonderful spot to appear.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hindenburg_disaster
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 19: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part D

#Wss366 & #TimeTravelAuthors 7/11 Romance/love triangle?

“The Hindenburg,” I repeated. “And that’s not your sister, but you?”

I took a sip of my Champagne cocktail while I put my thoughts in order. I savored the taste to settle my mind. The drink was simple but elegant, not quite up to the ones at the Folies Bergère. There, they rimmed the glass with vibrantly colored sugar crystals and poured with flair. This had been served politely, without fanfare. That kind of flourish would have clashed with the quiet elegance of the Hindenburg. It was a fine drink, fitting for the airship.

Emily stared at me. “You drank that?”

“Yes, try yours. It is quite good.”

“No, you’re a ghost and you drank that!”

I hadn’t thought about it, but I couldn’t remember any stories about ghosts drinking. Didn’t Buddhists even make a big deal out of how some ghosts drank and ate but could never feel nourished? That must relate to why I stayed inebriated for so short a time. The first part, not the bit about the hungry ghosts. I found the light fizz and warmth of the drink very satisfying.

I shrugged in reply. “So it seems.”

“And your clothes, they aren’t very appropriate.”

True, they were 21st-century casual: jeans and a short brown sweater dress. They must have passed as a costume at the Folies Bergère. I imagined myself in a dress matching Emily’s and wah lah I was in period attire. I #add(ed) a black pearl necklace for flair.

“Don’t do that!” Emily hissed. “You’re putting on a spectacle.”

“My bad.” She was right, of course. Doing things like that where I could be seen wasn’t clever. “This ghost thing is all new to me.”

“I’m new to ghosting and even I know that was stupid,” she added.

I’d wished for a travel companion, and I guessed Emily Pang was it. Not that she was romance material. Heavens, no. I like other women that way, but sharp-tongued women never appealed to me. Besides, she wasn’t even my type. I would just help her and then ask her if she wanted to do some traveling. That’s all.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 20: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part E

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 7/13. Most famous person in your story.

We sat staring uncomfortably at each other. The polite chatter in the Hindenburg’s lounge did nothing to ease our awkward silence. Ms. Pang picked up the Champagné cocktail and took a drink.

“Wow, I drank that. It never occurred to me I could eat or drink,” she said.

“You probably shouldn’t. They’re all staring.” With my sudden change of clothes and a floating Champagne glass, we’d made quite the spectacle.

I stood up, took a bow, and announced in a loud voice, “My show opens next week on Broadway. I hope to see you there.” It was probably gauche, but it covered up our various mistakes.

“That was clever,” Ms. Pang said. She had put the glass down and didn’t pick it up again. “Let’s start again. I’m Emily Pang, but you can call me Emily. I’m—I was a reporter. The Nazis revoked my press card, so I was traveling home. In a few days I’m going to die, burn—n… I don’t want to think about it. It was horrible.”

“I’m sorry.” No pointless comfort. What else could I say?

“I’m Luminelle Bijou. You can call me whatever you want except ‘late for dinner.’” The joke fell flat, but it got a grimace, which was an improvement from the distress I’d seen on her face.

“I’m new to this ghost business,” I said, “so there isn’t much I can say about it. Nor can I tell you about my living self. I have no memory of my life. Not even my name. It was Mademoiselle Josephine Baker who christened me Luminelle Bijou.

“She’s quite famous. A communist.”

“I think you’re confused. She’s a patriot and helped us against the Nazis, no matter what Walter Winchell says.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_Winchell

“I’m sorry. I should know better than to repeat gossip. Though I thought Mr. Winchell was her friend.”

I thought for a moment. “I’m getting my timelines confused. The war and Walter Winchell’s slander are in the future.”

“Oh, you’re from the future? Interesting… I wish I could see what happens. Does everyone end up with personal gyrocopters, that kind of thing?”

I almost spit out my drink. At first, I thought she said ‘gyno-copters,’ which would be a very different invention. One I wouldn’t mention in mixed company.

“But tell me, who else famous have you met?”

“I may have met Elizabeth Bathory and Camilla Karnstein.”

Emily looked blank.

“One is famous for bathing in blood, and the other is a vampire from a novel.”

“You do have charming friends,” Emily said.

“Josephine Baker is it, but I’ve thought about visiting Joan of Arc and Amelia Earhart.”

“You’d like Mrs. Earhart. She is a pleasant person. Delightful, but she’ll talk your leg off about aviation.”

Emily began smiling. I liked it. Her face lit up, and her eyes sparkled. They were almost cobalt blue at the moment. The smile faded, and she whispered, “Don’t look, but THEY are here.”

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 21: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part G

#TimeTravelAuthors 19 Saturday excerpt (optional word: line)

Emily’s mistake was forgetting that if you say to someone “don’t look,” they, of course, will.

I slowly turned my head, as if finding a waiter to order another drink. In the lounge doorway stood a rabbit. I think of rabbits as cute, but this one was anything but cute. It was roughly the size of a twelve-year-old and wore a Nazi SS uniform. The unfastened holster revealed the grip of a Luger. After discovering I could time travel and meet a probable vampire, a Nazi rabbit shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did.

I turned back to Emily and mouthed, “Oh.”

She said, “I’ll tell you later. Watch me… The other me.”

Ms. Pang, the living one, was cheerfully talking to her friend. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rabbit make a bee-line for her. It stopped next to her and appeared to be listening. After a minute, it turned around and left the lounge.

Once it was gone, Emily spoke again. “I don’t know what they are, but they’ve been following her ever since she got on the Hindenburg. That’s another reason we need to warn her. I was carrying some important papers that burned in the crash.”

The pronoun switch threw me briefly. It must be strange talking about yourself that way. But was easier to understand if she spoke about her live self as like another person.

“Do you want to tell me more, or is it a secret?”

“It’s a secret, but I guess I can tell you. It’s notes on the German’s research into mind-reading.”

I sighed, mind-reading. What next, alien abductions?

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 22: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part H

Prompts: #Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 7/23

“Let’s go look out the observation window,” I said. I needed to think about the rabbit hole I’d fallen down, a hole complete with ghosts, time travel, vampires, mind-reading, and now Nazi rabbits. Each a #symbol of how far I had fallen. And, as if that god-awful hodge-podge of impossibilities weren’t enough, I had a dozen other questions. Who or what controlled this time-travel business? Should I get involved with Ms. Pang? Would she really be a good travel companion—wait, I hadn’t stipulated “good,” only that she could be a travel partner. Folklore said wishes were tricky, more likely to bite you than befriend you.

I sighed and put the questions out of my mind. It was pointless to speculate about this time-travel business or even who I was. I had no information. The same was true for this woman. She “could” be a travel companion, and only time would reveal if I wanted her to be.

I found a spot at the window that wasn’t near anyone. Outside, #water spread as far as the eye could see. A few boats dotted the surface, but they were shrinking. “We must be rising,” I thought. Using a soft voice, I said, “Okay, tell me about the rabbits and the papers. Then I will tell you if I’ll help.”

“You’re not on their side or a communist, are you?”

“I don’t know who ‘their side’ is, but I’m not a Nazi or fascist. I don’t think I was a communist. It bothered me when you casually called Mademoiselle Baker a communist. She was a symbol of freedom, not tyranny. So I might have been a liberal. If you’re worried I’ll betray you, forget it. The worst that happens is I jet to another time and let you worry about the ship crashing.”

She nodded. I’d learn that was a habit. “I was a colonel in military intelligence, and no cracks about there being no intelligence in the military.”

That stung until I took into #account my “late for dinner” joke.

“I worked very hard to be promoted and am the highest-ranking woman in the intelligence service. My employer, the Arkham Daily Star, plays along. I was in Germany investigating some top-flight American psychologists who’d taken jobs in Heidelberg. I discovered they’d been hired for top-secret work researching mind-reading. Awful stuff, using human test subjects. It’s too gruesome to talk about—trepanning and electrodes, that sort of thing.”

I didn’t point out she was already talking about it. I was just glad she moved on.

“They must have caught on because they revoked my press card and hinted unpleasant things might happen to a nosy woman if she didn’t leave the country. I had all my notes with me, and I think that’s why they sabotaged the ship. Those papers must get to US intelligence.”

“And the rabbits?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 23: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part I

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 7/25. Jewelry and fashion in your story.

“I didn’t see any rabbits when I was alive,” Emily began. “There was no warning of a problem, just suddenly there were flames. My last wish before I blacked out was to go back and warn myself. When I came to, I was no longer on the Hindenburg; instead, I was in Frankfurt on the day I’d left.”

The first thing I tried was speaking to her in her hotel room. I remember standing in front of the door, frustrated that I didn’t have the key. I gave the door an angry shove, and to my surprise, my hand went through it. That’s when it really hit me: “I’m a ghost.”

“It’s tricky going through things, but I managed to enter the room.

“There I was, putting on a long blue…” Emily began, and I waved my hands for her to get on with it. Clothing wasn’t what I was interested in. I wanted to know about Nazi rabbits and mind-reading studies.

“Anyway, I tried talking to her, but she couldn’t hear me. I was #nagging and yelling at her by the time we reached the lobby, and that’s when I saw them. There were two rabbits dressed—the way you saw—in those awful black SS uniforms, talking to the ‘kind’ officer who had ‘volunteered’ to drive me to the aerodrome.”

“I didn’t know if they could detect me, so I made myself inconspicuous. I wasn’t getting through to her anyway.”

“All I could do was drift along above the car, following them to the Hindenburg. It felt like floating through a movie scene, #severed from reality.”

“Wow, Emily is one adaptive person.” I hadn’t tried any of those things: passing through walls, floating, flying, and God knows what else.

Emily continued her story. “When we got to the aerodrome, there were two more rabbits. I don’t know if they were the same ones. They had the same black uniforms and death-head insignia. They watched me—her—board the Hindenburg. My driver nodded to a rabbit, a major, and they also boarded. I don’t know how many are on the ship, but at least three.”

“That’s the story. You saw me trying to talk to… myself. Oh, and I tried possessing myself with no luck.”

I thought I understood, despite the tangle of “I”s and “me”s. But for the future, I said, “It will be easier for both of us if you refer to your living self as ‘her’ or ‘Ms. Pang.’ And you”—I pointed at her—“as ‘I’ or ‘Emily.’ Is it all right if I call you Emily?”

She nodded.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 24: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part J

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 29. Masks (literal or figurative).

“So, are you going to help me? Getting those papers to the right people is important. We can’t let the Nazis get mind-reading first. I wish I’d handed my papers off in Germany,” Emily said, staring unseeing out the observation window.

I looked out at the clean blue ocean instead of answering. We were high enough that I couldn’t see whitecaps, and ships were dots. There was no land visible, and there wouldn’t be any until we got to New Jersey.

“Let’s sit,” I said. “I need to think.”

We walked back to our table, and I flagged the steward down. I ordered a whiskey sour and drank it and studied the #art on the walls while thinking. Emily sat across from me, drumming her fingers in eerily soundless impatience.

“Yes, I’ll help,” I said, putting down the empty glass—the cherry at the bottom staring up at me—“but realistically, there is only so much I can do.”

She nodded, but her wrinkled brow delivered a mixed message.

“I know people survived,” I said, getting to business. “Where were you during the explosion?”

Emily grew pale, and her lip trembled. “It’s hazy. I remember the fire and screaming in agony. It was awful.”

“Sorry for making you remember this stuff,” I said. “Unfortunately, I have to know.”

“It’s alright. I’m asking for your help. But I don’t remember where I was.”

I didn’t beat around the bush. No matter how I said this, she wouldn’t like it, so I jerked the band-aid off with one motion. “I don’t think I can save her.”

“You said you’d help!”

“Listen. Provided I convince Ms. Pang and she convinces the captain—both unlikely—where would Ms. Pang get off? I hate to be blunt. You wore the mask of a journalist, but as a spy, you knew the risks.”

Emily stiffened at my statement.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 25: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part K

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 31. Author’s choice.

A long moment followed my blunt retort: “You wore the mask of a journalist, but as a spy, you knew the risks.”

While awaiting Emily’s angry response, I observed subtle details of my environment: the floor tilting under us, enough to notice; a passerby muttering, “Turbulence;” someone swearing in German; the steward artfully handing someone their drinks.

When the passerby was gone, Emily nodded. “I knew the risks.” It was a wry statement of acceptance.

I breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been my most diplomatic moment, but we’d survived. With that over, I continued. “That said, the important thing is to see that those papers get into the right hands. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Just imagine the Nazi Party with mind-reading.”

“The good news is, there is no evidence they used mind-reading during the war. I think they would have won if they had known our leader’s plans.”

“So we fought a war with them? Appeasement didn’t work? Of course it didn’t. The idiots.” Emily didn’t sound surprised, only bitter.

“But we won?” She was staring intently at me, seeking confirmation.

“Yeah, it was a bloody, nasty war. Germany occupied France and the Netherlands, and for a time, it was touch and go for England.”

“Serve the cowards right. Appeasement, what fools!”

“Be that as it may, our job is to see the papers survive and reach the right hands. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“So the first thing is to get the papers. I have a couple of plans for what to do after that.”

Emily nodded.

“First, do you know where the papers are? The easiest thing would be to steal them.”

“They’re on film, and I have… Ms. Pang has them on her person. Always!”

“Well, that leaves out stealing them. Gah, and they will melt if we hide them on the ship. That’s a couple of plans out the window.”

“Next plan?” she asked. The anger had faded, replaced by resignation, as cold as #worn #stone.

“I’ll have to talk her out of them. How about I pretend to be your contact and use your passcodes to get them?”

“She’ll think someone compromised our cell.”

“That leaves the direct approach. I’ll convince her I know the future, and she needs to accept our help to prevent the film’s destruction.”

“And how will ‘you’ do that?”

I didn’t appreciate her sarcasm. She was the one who approached me to talk to Ms. Pang. All in all, this supposed companion could be exasperating.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 26: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part L

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 8/1 Tell us about your time-travel story (optional: end with "out of time")

I signaled the steward for another whiskey sour. Alcohol didn’t hit me like it used to, but I still felt lightheaded and too ready to indulge my feelings. And right now, I was peeved. Emily had asked me to speak to her living counterpart. I was doing her a favor; there was no need for sarcasm.

I was being petty, sure. But I was just loopy enough to let it ride. Besides, the Hindenburg mixed a great cocktail. The whiskey sour used top-shelf ingredients: good rye, real lemon, and just the right touch of egg white. I held the glass up to the light, studying it. It was crystal, a short-stemmed coupe, shaped like a champagne glass. That was new to me and nothing like the ones I’d used at airport bars.

“Wow,” I muttered. “So, new details about my life: I used airports and knew my alcohol, maybe too well.”

While I savored my drink, Emily drummed her fingers on the table again, harder but still silently.

Halfway through my drink, I figured it was time to act like a grownup. “If you want my help, please don’t be so critical.”

“My, my, a thin-skinned ghost.” She frowned, hesitated, then leaned forward with both hands on the table. “Sorry, that was uncalled for. I’ll try to be nicer, but that’s the way I am: blunt, pragmatic, and utterly irritating.” She leaned back and shrugged. “The best experts have told me so.”

She took a deep breath. “I really appreciate your help. I was at my wit’s end trying to figure out what to do.”

“Apology accepted,” I said and tossed off the rest of the drink. The lounge looked brighter now, and the mural’s tropical palm swam.

“Plan C,” I said, trying to judge if my words were slurred. They didn’t seem to be. Getting drunk as a ghost was going to be a pain.

I said again, “Plan C is I tell her things I shouldn’t know about you—is she more likely to believe I can see the future or that I’m a time-traveling ghost?”

“Neither, I’d assume you were unwell and obsessing over me,” Emily said.

“That’s a risk,” I said. “But I’m out of better options. It has to be stuff not even a stalker or a deep-cover spy would know. The truth—that I’m some kind of amnesiac, time-hopping ghost—is probably too much. Clairvoyant sounds simpler. I just hope she buys it before we run out of time.”

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 27: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part M

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 8/5. Jobs/work in your story.

I raised my hand to order another drink, only to withdraw it when Emily said, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

She softened her tone and continued, “It would be best if you were clear-headed while we plan this.”

“Sure,” I said. “I hardly feel alcohol, but if we slip up, who knows what those rabbits or Emily might do.”

“That’s what I mean. You loused up calling her Emily, not Miss. Pang. Little things like that can get you killed in the spy business.”

While I couldn’t die, and I wasn’t a spy, Emily was right; a minor mistake might set Ms. Pang off.

We stopped talking briefly as the steward arrived. I ordered a club sandwich and soda water. I’d taken Emily’s advice: no more alcohol.

“So tell me about your secret life,” I said.

Emily thought for a minute and turned scarlet. Whatever she was thinking must be juicy for our matter-of-fact reporter/spy to blush.

“For months, I was convinced I had to take orders. I even asked one of the school nuns. I was sure I’d go to hell after necking with a girl in one of the bathroom stalls. It was my first time.”

I was taken aback that she’d share that while stone sober. My face grew hot picturing it. I even had a quick flash of being groped in a car by a boy.

“That might be too personal,” I said. “Ms. Pang will think I’m a stalker from her high school days.”

“Right. Sorry. Let me think. When I was a kid, I let our pet hamster out to play. Then a friend dropped by, and I ran out to meet her, forgetting all about him. Mom found the cat stalking Billy, and my brother got blamed. I still feel guilty for never owning up. Father could be mean when he was angry, especially when he was in the #bag.”

“That’s good. How about some follow-up information?”

“Let’s see.” She paused again as my meal arrived.

When the steward was gone, she rattled off the information. “Someone once climbed through my window and broke the little crystal swan my mother gave me. Who it was is a mystery, but I kept it to myself. I didn’t want my parents to know I could shin down the oak at night; the first time I got drunk was in Germany, when I was an exchange student—on cheap schnapps; Miss McGuire never knew who let the #air out of her tires; my mother gave me a stuffed bear, it’s still on my bed; my favorite film was Morocco. Marlene Dietrich in white tie and top hat was as racy as they come.”

“That should do, and you can stand behind me, feeding information if I need it.”

“Morocco,” I thought. “She at least has good taste. Marlene’s scene in the club was indeed hot.”

Note: From the next chapter: "I was possibly a professor or librarian."

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 28: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part N

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 7. Time-travel, frequency?

Little bits of my past were coming back. No memories except that scene with the boy in the car, but fragments of who I was: an angstless lesbian with a good grasp of history, spoke several languages, was left-leaning, knew my liquor, maybe drank too much, and was probably a film buff. Morocco had been a pretty old movie by the time I’d have seen it. Was there anything else? I was curious, polite, considerate, and well-spoken. I seemed like a nice lady. Oh, and adaptable: I’d taken to being a time-traveling ghost, accepted Nazi rabbits, and mind-reading with very little fuss.

“And after we get the film?” Emily asked.

“One, we could hide it on board. But it would melt in the crash, so that plan’s out.”

“Two, find someone to carry it off for us. Cons: What if we pick the wrong person, they forget it, panicked abandoning it in the crash, or die in the fire?”

“Skip what doesn’t work.” Her tone had turned prickly again. She definitely wouldn’t be a congenial partner, maybe not even for traveling.

“Three, we put the film in an envelope and address it to your handler. When we’re over New Jersey, I’ll fly down to earth and mail it. If I can’t fly, you can carry it down.”

“It’s hard holding things. I don’t think I could carry it to the ground. And who’s going to believe a random letter about mind-reading? My handlers would write it off as a crank letter.”

“I believed you.”

“True, but you’re a ghost. Which is unbelievable too.”

I patted myself. “I’m here all right, not a crank illusion.”

Emily smiled, which was the whole point. It was also nice knowing she had a sense of humor. That was a positive in her favor.

“Number four. The last plan. Once we’re at the aerodrome, we fly down. When survivors reach the ground, I approach your handlers and tell them Ms. Pang gave it to me. You bravely died trying to stop saboteurs and the #March of the German war machine. Plan B: if I can’t fly, I’ll drop the film to you and you deliver it. Then slip out, never to be seen again.”

She nodded. “I like it. One thing, you keep saying ‘Ms.’ I don’t know what that means, and neither will they. It’s ‘Miss’ I’ve never been married.”

“Got it,” I said.

“Swell—I know I’ve said this before, but I appreciate you putting up with me. I’m prickly when I’m tense.”

“Well, I do have an ulterior motive. I’m looking for a travel companion as I skip through time. After this is over, do you want to join me? With no strings attached, we could part at any time.”

“For Pete’s sake, you sound like a man putting the moves on me. ‘Hey, honey, want a little adventure?’” She laughed and winked, then continued, “Sure, that would be grand.”

There was a pause and a sly smile. Checking that no one was watching, she stole my mineral water and toasted, “The bee’s knees.”

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 29: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part O

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 9. Saturday excerpt (optional word: strong)

We decided to approach Miss Pang the next day after she’d had a few drinks. We hoped her irritation with me would have eased by then. I would start by approaching and apologizing. The lounge had its risks; she might protest loudly, or the rabbits might choose that moment to check on her. Emily would keep watch for them unless I signaled I needed help.

With the plan set, we needed an empty spot to test our abilities.

“Mademoiselle Bijou, if you please.” The steward caught us at the lounge door and held out a slip for my signature. “Just sign, and it will be charged to your account.”

I scribbled something illegible and noted the room number: 14. The world appeared to adapt to my presence. I had worried a steward might arrest me as a stowaway. Instead, I had a cabin registered in my name. It was handy how reality bent politely to accommodate me.

Thoughtfully, I added a small cash tip, three or four Reichsmarks I had found in my pocket.

The steward quietly hid them and then asked, “And before you go, is there anything I can tell the chef you would like for breakfast? Continental is standard, but if you would like something special, I will try to arrange it.”

“#Fruit, yogurt, and coffee would be fine,” I replied, only then seeing Emily shaking her head and making a cutoff motion with her hand. I wondered what I had done wrong. Time travel was turning out to be complicated.

“I don’t believe we have yogurt; would clotted cream do, Mademoiselle?” His tone was respectful, tinged with regret, and perhaps a little stiff.

Even so, I had clearly messed up. Emily’s alarm was so #strong that it was amazing the steward didn’t feel it too. He, however, had maintained a calm, unruffled look. A few Reichsmarks seemed to have smoothed over any weirdness on my part.

Emily, realizing she could speak, instructed, “Order cocoa, a croissant, and coffee with a plate of fruit. That’s very French. And if you must tip, be discreet about it.”

I did so and departed. Emily’s scowl told me I was in for a scolding.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 30: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part P

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 8/11. Cold/freezing in your story

By the time we got to the cabin, Emily had calmed down. Instead of a lecture, she said, “The steward must have been in a cold sweat. There he is, fishing for more tips, and you turn out to be a health faddist. Do people in the future actually eat that stuff?”

“It’s popular. You can find it at any supermarket — you do have supermarkets, right?”

“We do, but not in Arkham. Boston has an A&P and a Safeway.”

“I’m sorry, I should have known yogurt might be an anachronism.”

“Forget it; that’s past and gone. It’s hard to believe that yogurt and probably whole wheat bread would become popular.”

“That too, but no flying cars or personal jet packs, but we have no-#fault auto insurance.”

A smile tugged at Emily’s lips. “That’s disappointing. Now, about tipping…”

Once Emily finished her quick lecture on current idioms, we turned our attention to testing our new abilities. We shared the same standard skills, though we each had our own drawbacks. Anything involving dematerialization fatigued me: flying, passing through walls, invisibility. Anything involving materialization fatigued her: visibility, picking up objects, etc. Overdoing it left us cold, shivering, and unable to move.

“I’m worried about your plan,” Emily said. “What if you materialize halfway down and fall? We don’t have any proof you can’t die. You just assumed that.”

“It’s a risk, but we can’t test it. Please don’t test it!” I threw my hands in the air with a look of mock alarm.

Emily missed the joke. “Good Lord, of course I wouldn’t test that.”

That was too much, and I broke out laughing. “And that’s how it happened! To test the theory, the intrepid spy fired three shots from her pocket revolver. The ghost dodged, only to be engulfed in flames as the bullets ignited the hydrogen. And now we return you to our sponsor, Hydrolux, the dish detergent you can count on.”

Emily’s expression set me off again; a moment later, she was laughing too. “You’re quite a card, you know.”

The dinner chime cut off any witty retort I might have had.

“I’m looking forward to it. The menu says we have a choice of Dover #sole or fillet of beef with mushroom sauce—but no flaming cherries jubilee for dessert. Such a shame, just chilled brandied peaches.”

“Better hurry, or you’ll miss it. It wasn’t the spy who caused the explosion; it was the cook when they flamed the crème brûlée. The sole survivor was the dishwasher, who fell into a tub of Hydrolux suds. Seriously, though, watch out. Dinner could be a conversational minefield; you do come out with some odd turns of phrase.”

I gave her a thumbs up as I departed. If she said anything more, I didn’t hear it over the announcement of dinner.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 31: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part Q

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 8/13. Wednesday POST-SIZED snippet

I was seated at a table with three other unaccompanied women, including Miss Pang. I resisted altering Emily and my plan for fear of spoiling it. That didn’t mean I would waste an opportunity if it arose.

When the youngest woman asked me what I did, I replied, “I’m a prestidigitator, commonly called a stage magician. I do the usual things, but I specialize in reading minds and foretelling the future.” Any other answer would have been suspicious and awakened fears from Miss Pang who had witnessed my performance in the lounge.

There was a rapid plunge in my social capital in the #wake of this announcement. Oh well, only Miss Pang concerned me, and she ignored the conversation.

“Do a trick for us,” the young woman asked.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any of my gear. Most involve sleight of hand, except for the divination and mind-reading. I’m an experienced medium.” I hoped my memory was correct that spiritualism was in vogue.

“Oh, tell my fortune, please,” the woman said.

I smiled inwardly, knowing she was playing right into my hands. “That is a bit of a problem. Ever since getting on the Hindenburg, I can’t see anything, just darkness and… Anyway, it’s never happened to me before, but I’m sure it’s nothing.” I tried to make it sound slightly ominous while not overplaying my hand.

“You read minds as well?” Miss Pang finally deigned to notice me. “Surely you haven’t lost that?”

“No, ma’am, or should I say, Miss Emily Pang, the reporter from Arkham. You’re someone with an interest in mind-reading. Oh… well, that’s enough. Perhaps we should talk later. Tomorrow, privately?” With anyone else, I wouldn’t have tried that, but I knew that Miss Pang took mind-reading seriously.

I could feel her appraising me and imagined her thinking, “Is she German counterintelligence, a humbug, or the real thing?” It was time for me to stop; otherwise, I would seem too eager.

“You must read my mind too,” the young woman jumped in again.

“I think that is enough on the subject,” I said.

The fourth woman finally spoke. “Indeed, more than enough.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Miss Pang said.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 32: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part R

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 15. Injustice

After dinner, I returned to my cabin and updated Emily. She listened attentively. At first, her brow creased, and I imagined her thinking me a dunce for not sticking to our plan. But as I continued, they smoothed, and she nodded. I finished: “So I have an appointment with Miss Pang to discuss mind-reading tomorrow.”

“That was well played. And you’re right; Miss Pang will suspect you of being from counterintelligence.”

Then her brow furrowed again, and she changed the subject. “I’ve been wondering why you’re so eager to help me, when you could travel to wonderful, exotic places rather than spend time on a doomed ship.”

“I’ll give you three reasons. First, the Hindenburg a world class experience, with good food and pleasant company. Second, while I’m no social justice warrior, the Nazis are a blot on human history. You can’t imagine the depth of their crimes. The injustices laid at their door would boggle your mind. Third, I came here looking for a travel companion and found you—reason enough for me.”

“You have a colorful vocabulary: ‘social justice warrior,’ ‘laid at their door,’ ‘boggle your mind.’ I get what you’re saying, but watch it when talking to Miss Pang.”

That led to another lesson on 1930s idioms. After that, I had great success experimenting with sleep.

In the morning, breakfast went without a hitch, and I got to sample clotted cream with my fruit—not bad—and was careful to tip discreetly.

By early afternoon, I’d settled into the lounge. Miss Pang came in later, but I held off talking to her until she had a few drinks.

I’d switched back to Champagné cocktails on Emily’s advice. She had also suggested the Kir Royale or LZ-129. She said they were more ladylike than whiskey sours. The #latter had some appeal, but it was late in the day for orange juice. So, I selected what I had ordered the day before, Champagné cocktails. I needed to drink something alcoholic. A sudden interest in sobriety would raise suspicions.

As Miss Pang finished her second drink, Emily took a place at the door, watching for SS rabbits. Taking a last swig of my Champagne, I set off across the room, and I had almost reached Miss Pang when a German-sounding fellow stopped me. “You’re the magician, aren’t you? Your trick impressed me yesterday. Such precision; it really looked like someone had picked up the glass, and there were no visible wires. Wunderbar!”

I nodded politely, hoping he wouldn’t ask me to join him for a drink. That was when Emily signaled, and three rabbits entered. At first, I thought the German fellow was a blessing in disguise, since I was talking to him, not Miss Pang.

But only at first, because the three of them marched over and surrounded us. The cold, hard glint in their eyes was as terrifying as the death's head insignia and swastika of their uniforms.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 33: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part S

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 17. How athletic are your characters?

“You look pale,” the man said, his voice made harsh by a German accent.

Pale? Of course I was. I was being interrogated by an unknown German, surrounded by Nazi rabbits that no one but Emily and I could see. My instinct was to run, but that would have been futile. I’d never been athletic, and even if I could outrun them, where on the Hindenburg could I go?

I supplied a plausible answer to the man’s question: “Last night’s fish may not have agreed with me.”

I had trouble keeping my eyes off the rabbits, so I focused on the man’s face. It faintly resembled Bismarck’s except for the bits of food in his walrus mustache. It was a ludicrous note that helped restore my equilibrium. As long as I kept my eyes off the rabbits, I’d be okay.

“At what theater will you be appearing? I would like to see your show, and I think my friends would enjoy it too.”

With his thick accent, I couldn’t tell if he’d emphasized the word “friends.” I instantly pictured brownshirts dealing with a suspected spy—me. It wasn’t fair, but with his SS companions, I couldn’t help it.

“Bijou, I think. My manager handles those things, but I’m pretty sure that’s the name.” It was the first likely theater name to pop into my head. They certainly couldn’t know all the stages’ names.

Then, behind me, I heard Emily say, “It’s on the Lower East Side. You’re part of a festival planned around the showing of ‘The Great Gambini.’”

I repeated what Emily said.

“Good, I will be sure to book tickets for your show, and maybe you can read my mind. I’ll be thinking sweet things about the woman I’m with,” he finished with a leer and a wink. It reminded me of my #father.

With that, he left to join his table, leaving a #wake of unease behind him. I signaled a steward: “An LZ-129 and whatever Miss Pang is drinking.” The order gave me time for the rabbits to wander off, and LZ-129’s orange juice would help wash away the taste of that last wink.

As the rabbits exited the lounge, I joined Miss Pang. I smiled, raised my old-fashioned glass, and toasted her. The tangy orange juice combined with the mellow bite of quality gin soothed my ruffled nerves. It was going to be a long day.

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#TimeTravelingGhost 34 EP 2T: 1937: The Hindenburg

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 23rd

“I can’t believe you did it,” Emily murmured from behind me. “I cracked.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” I thought. Not that I blamed Emily for being surprised, but it was too soon to congratulate myself. I didn’t have the film yet.

I looked down, finding my glass empty. I’d been putting those cocktails away. Another wouldn’t hurt, and I needed something to calm my strained nerves. I waved for the steward and ordered a Champagne cocktail. Miss Pang declined my offer to buy her another drink.

Using my “mind-reading” ability, I sensed she thought I was trying to get her drunk

Bull’s-eye, she would be right.

“And a Monte Cristo,” I added to the steward.

His foot scuffed the floor, and his gaze wavered, but he didn’t say anything. Behind me, Emily groaned. I’d done it again. Maybe the drink wasn’t a good idea.

“That’s a ‘Croque monsieur’ that’s dipped in egg and pan-fried.”

“That we can do, Mademoiselle.” The steward resumed smiling, thinking, “Miss Moneybags will be happy, and I’ll be richer.” Heavy tipping on a luxury #cruise like this had its perks.

“So, the next thing,” I said when the steward was gone, “is I tell your fortune, you’ll doubt me, and then I’ll tell you a few more things to #restore your confidence in me.”

“Okay, read my future.”

I looked to see if anyone else could hear, then lowered my voice. “The Hindenburg will blow up in New Jersey at the mooring mast. You are not among the survivors.”

Her face went as blank as the steward’s a few minutes earlier. Then she asked, “I die?”

At least she wasn’t laughing. “Yes, and the film is destroyed at the same time.”

Her eyes widened. “So you’re a spy!”

“If I were a spy, I would have the captain arrest you and confiscate the film. It’s really a harebrained idea to convince you that I can read minds and see the future when I could have you arrested. That’s why I showed you evidence of my sincerity.”

I jumped as she waved her hand. “My God,” I thought. “She’s going to have me arrested!”

The steward appeared at her shoulder. “Jack Rose, please,” Miss Pang said. “My friend is paying.”

“That’s it? You believe me?”

“Let’s say I don’t disbelieve you. I still don’t know what you want. But given the things I’ve seen…”

Her statement shifted into a question: ‘Where did I see them?’

“Heidelberg. But that’s something a spy would know.”

“True, but for now, I choose to believe you—with reservations.”

“Well, that was easier than expected.”

“I could make it harder. What am I thinking?”

Our drinks arrived, and I waited until the steward was out of earshot.

“You want to get roaring drunk, find out who I am, and see if I’m any good in bed.”

Miss Pang choked on her drink, and Emily gave the back of my head a solid smack. But if Miss Pang believed my prediction of her imminent demise, what else could she be thinking?

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 33: EP 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part S

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 8/27

“I might have had some of those thoughts,” Miss Pang replied to my injudicious comment. Rather than shocked, she sounded amused. She had drunk almost as much as I had, but unlike me, she didn’t have ghost-given resistance.

“Pardon me,” I said. “I may have had too much to drink. Let’s say two out of three. The third is something two ladies shouldn’t discuss.”

“Nice save,” Emily said, “but don’t press your luck.” Remembering the whack she’d given me, I didn’t want to find out what would happen if I blew things.

“To the first, then—beastly drunk. And a pardon in advance for anything either of us might say while in that condition.” Miss Pang raised her glass, and we clinked. After that, I could hardly refuse.

“And to the second,” she said, lowering her glass. “Who are you really, and what do you want?”

“I am Luminelle Bijou, and I truly can tell the future. And what I told you is true. I also see that we are on the eve of another great war, and if…”

I stopped to look around, forgetting Emily was keeping watch.

“If the information you have doesn’t reach the right hands, the Germans will have an unbeatable trump card. I can get it into those hands, and please don’t ask; it’s an occult secret.”

“So you know how to escape but won’t share it?”

“Miss Pang, I wish that were true, but when this is over, I'll be as dead as you. If it is any consolation, I know a great #adventure awaits you on the other side.”

“Save your platitudes. They make your story less believable. Dead is dead; the priests lie.”

Miss Pang’s words were beginning to slur, and her sentences were a trifle disjointed. I pushed half of my sandwich her way. It wouldn’t do if she passed out.

“I know nothing of God’s will or even if there is a God, but we'll meet on the other side. You don’t want to face me knowing you passed up the chance to get one over on them. I hate the Nazis as much as you do. Let me help you.”

“Okay. How about number three, and you can get it personally?”

Behind me, I heard Emily say, “Don’t you dare!”

“I will have to decline. I am tempted, but it would complicate things when we meet again.”

I hoped all that #computed because if not, I would have to take her up on the offer and face Emily’s fury later.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 34: EP 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part T

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 8/29. Is anyone late?

We had a few more drinks and some drunken conversation. My alcohol tolerance came in handy; while I grew noticeably tipsy, I was steadier than Miss Pang, who was two sheets to the wind by the end. She lamented it was too late for love, reminisced about her hometown, and asked me the meaning of life. When she began railing against the Nazis, I put her to bed.

Emily tactfully didn’t follow us into Miss Pang’s cabin—which was just as well, given where Miss Pang had hidden the film. Otherwise, I maintained my ghostly virtue.

When I returned to my own cabin, I was feeling sober. I announced, “Got it,” and held up the film.

Emily responded with a wry smile to my news. Then she promptly changed the subject. “I want you to forget all that. I was beastly drunk and dealing with being told I was about to die.”

“Oh, you remember me talking to you from when you were alive.”

“Vaguely. This flight is a blur to me. The image of fire blots it out. But I’ve remembered flashes of you.”

“I wonder if that is history rewriting itself or proof that you can’t change history?”

“I don’t remember much. Do you… Did we…?” She stopped, with a smile #pasted on her face.

“I forget.”

“What? How could you forget?”

“You told me to forget, so I did. I’m a good, obedient little girl.”

She shook her head in frustration. The least she could have done was boo.

“No, we didn’t. I’m not that kind of woman. I may have been a lush and a glutton, but drunk seduction is out of my league. Even when you’re the one doing the seducing.”

The comment earned me the evil eye, but I couldn’t #help myself, she was fun to tease.

“I was very drunk; I’m not like that.” She repeated.

“Now it’s you who needs to forget it; it’s water under the bridge.”

The rest of the voyage was uneventful. We saw the rabbits occasionally and concluded they were keeping tabs on Miss Pang. She avoided me except at meals, when we were polite strangers. The only interesting thing was Emily and me discussing what to do next. It turned out to be an intriguing list. A compilation of everything from time tourism to noble attempts to change history. Ultimately, we postponed the final decision until after we delivered the film.

[Time for readers to decide where to go next.]

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.

#TimeTravelingGhost Part 35: EP 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part U

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 31

When the fateful day arrived, Emily and I stayed glued to the observation windows. Passengers came to admire the New Jersey countryside below, and then left to pack.

Miss Pang took a seat in the lounge near us and ordered a Champagne cocktail. She glanced my way, but no more.

Next to me, Emily said, “I’m watching you. If we don’t crash, I want to catch you before you slip away.”

Her use of "I" confused me, but I followed her gaze to Miss Pang. I nodded. “I wouldn’t expect less of you. If we don’t crash, I’ll be happy to hand her the film and apologize.”

The landing mast came into view, a tall, spindly structure. Below was a mixture of pine forests and sandy fields. The aerodrome building loomed large, and I could see the people clearly. “Which one will I be giving the film to?” I asked.

“He’s next to the terminal. I’ll lead you to him.”

“There’s a crowd down there. Are they all needed to land this thing?” I asked, looking at the lines of men in uniforms. What I mainly noticed a field of bobbing white hats.

“First time, bud,” the man next to me said. “Don’t worry. They’ve got it down to a science. We’ll be on the ground in a jiffy.”

I nodded thanks, wondering if he would remember those words later.

The tableware in the room rattled, and the ship groaned.

I felt sick to my stomach. Things were going to get very bad soon. Some people around me might die. I hoped the steward survived. He’d treated me well. It #frustrated me that there was nothing I could do to help these people.

A stray thought popped into my head: “What will they think when they can’t find my body? Mlle Bijou was on the #manifest, or will my name disappear?”

I glanced at where Miss Pang had been sitting, but she’d disappeared. The cocktail was untouched—a mocking symbol of an unfinished life.

I wondered about her absence, but there wasn’t time to think about it.

“Passengers, please prepare for landing,” the captain announced over the intercom, repeating the message in German.

I took Emily’s hand. “Ready.” My voice sounded unsteady. She nodded, and I focused on dematerializing. A process that always seemed to take forever, though in truth it was only thirty seconds. The man next to us gaped as he stared at me. The next few minutes would scar him for life. My disappearing act was only the beginning.

I tugged on Emily’s hand and stepped through the wall. It was like walking into a gale. The wall was thin, and I was outside the ship in an instant. The ground looked very far away.

My head spun, and my stomach lurched. What if I fell? I had no idea what would happen if I ran out of energy and materialized again. Emily had carefully pointed out that I only thought I couldn’t die. Even if I were right, I suspected a fall from this height would hurt.

“My God, I’m going to fall!”

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 35: EP 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part U

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/1

“You can fly! Come on, Bijou! Fly!”

I could hear Emily’s voice in my ear. I believed her, but my stomach was in free fall. The ground was fast approaching.

“#Please!” Her voice failed to puncture my panic.

Blood pulsed in my ears
     Heart pounded
         Crashing
             into the soldier’s
                 white hats

“Bijou, fly!” Her order cracked through the air.

I closed my eyes, spreading my arms.

          Be a raven

                    Swooping for food.

                              On the porch

Then, the air stopped rushing by, and I opened my eyes.

I was gliding away from the airfield over a sandy field, toward a tree line, away from our meeting spot.

My arms were so tired I’d never get back there.

I aimed for the trees instead. I could materialize there and rest.

My landing would have been disastrous except I passed through the bushes, slowing my momentum. Then, I was down, in a heap, under a pine tree. Too exhausted to move, I waited.

That’s where Emily found me. “There you are. That was touch and go, wasn’t it?”

Her tone was forced; too jovial. But I tried to respond in kind. “I’ll try not to keep you in #suspense in the future.”

She helped me sit up and said more seriously, “You look awful. It’s like you’re not all here. Really. You seem transparent. Like—like—a white beach pebble. Translucent—that’s the word.”

“I feel more like a hollow stone—a gray, worn stone.”

“I hope flying wasn’t too much.”

So do I. I was looking forward to gallivanting around time with you. There are so many interesting places and people to see.”

“It sounds fun. We could be the world’s greatest tourists.”

I closed my eyes; the light was hurting them.

“Bijou?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re an ace. You didn’t have to help me; you could’ve taken advantage of me. Hold fast; don’t wink out.”

“I’ll try.”

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 36: EP 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part V

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/3

I woke up to #soft sunlight filtering through the branches of a pine tree. At first, I didn’t know where I was, so I rolled over to sleep off my hangover. It wasn’t the first time I had awoken in an odd spot. At least this was better than a park bench covered with newspapers.

“Thank goodness. I was afraid I’d lost you.”

The voice was familiar.

I sat up, feeling the pine needles #snap under me, and looked into the face of Miss Emily Pang, the ghost.

“How long was I out? Our mission?” my reply #stilted by remnants of sleep.

“An hour, maybe half. We still have time if we hurry. Make yourself look like you barely escaped.”

When we emerged from the trees, we could see the Hindenburg. It lay in a tangled, smoking heap. The ship’s braces were twisted or broken. I gasped. The pictures I had seen didn’t capture the true devastation and tragedy of the accident.

“If only we could have prevented it,” I said, hurrying to catch up with Emily.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 36: EP 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part V

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/5

The scene was chaotic when we arrived at the crash site, which allowed us to #zoom through the crowds with ease. Fortunately, Emily’s contact was still waiting at their rendezvous point, a look of concern and alarm on his face

He was a regular-looking bloke, except for a #pumpkinish head. He looked nothing like the spy I had imagined

“Are you Dr. Hadron?” I asked, walking up to him. Actually, I was confident he was Hadron. Emily had led me to him and now stood back to watch how I did

“Survivors should go to the building over there.” He pointed to the nearby building, making it clear that he wasn’t interested in me

“If you’re Dr. Hadron, Miss Pang gave me something for you. She said it was important”

I had his attention, and as Emily had predicted, he looked suspicious. “And where is Miss Pang?”

I dropped my voice. “She went to stop saboteurs. I don’t know where she is. Here, sir. This is for you.”

I handed him the envelope with the film and turned to leave.

“Wait,” I heard behind me. I had no intention of waiting and dodged the hand he tried to put on my shoulder.

“I said, wait!” It wasn’t a request anymore but a command.

Pretending I didn’t hear, I ducked into a crowd.

“Stop him,” I heard, and panicked.

I considered running, but that would suggest I had something to hide, making the film suspect. I took a deep breath, then another, and continued at a leisurely pace into the densest group of people around me.

Once I was out of his line of sight, I changed my travel outfit into a Red Cross uniform modeled after one I had seen nearby. It was just a matter of reimagining it. There was a risk with so many people around, but I had to take it.

When I stepped out of the crowd, I resisted looking toward where Dr. Hadron was and a few moments later slipped around the corner of a building and stopped. Only then did I look back, breathing a sigh of relief at seeing no pursuit.

“I’ve got to hand it to you—you think fast,” Emily said. “Though you didn’t have to worry so much, no one was listening to him.”

“Thanks. You should have told me. Anyway, we should leave before he finds help. That means deciding where we’re going. I’m still in favor of visiting Amelia Earhart.” I knew how she would respond and was ready for her when she disagreed.

“We should kill Hitler and head this war off. We could do some real good.”

“Before we tamper with history, we should learn more about how things work. So let’s compromise and find someone who knows about time travel.”

She looked dubious and then shrugged. “You can do that?”

“I can try. I found you that way. Come on,” I said, taking her hand. “Think along with me: ‘Take us to someone who can explain time travel.’”

Emily nodded.

“On the count of three,” I said. “One, two, three.”

Continued in—EP 3: 2025: Arkam Part A

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 37a: EP 3: 2025 Miskatonic University

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/9

The building at the aerodrome and the throbbing #drum of emergency vehicles faded, replaced by the trilling of crickets, the splash of a fountain, and a courtyard containing a central statue and a fountain. Night enveloped the scene in eerie shadows. Grass carpeted the courtyard, silver-gray paths threading through it in the moonlight.

“I know this place,” I said. “But I can’t put a name to it.”

“Miskatonic University, the Metaphysical Research Building.” Emily supplied a name I instantly recognized.

“It’s very familiar to me, but I don’t know why,” I said. “I can even tell whose statue that is, Dr. Armitage. That’s the building’s official name: the Henry Armitage Building.”

“I don’t think the building was called that when I wrote about it. The students’ preferred name was Hex Hall.”

Is that you, Henrietta?” A man called to us from one side. I turned and saw a gentleman with a neat goatee, long, shaggy brown hair, and suit past its prime.

Near him was a rabbit. Instead of wearing a Nazi uniform, this one had on a t-shirt with a coiled rattlesnake and the words “Don’t Tread On Me,” cargo pants, and a red cap emblazoned with the MEGA logo. The final touch was an AR-15 slung across its back.

“Why, I thought you were dead. It was quite the scandal…”

“Professor Skully,” I cut him off.

The rabbit was paying far too much attention to our conversation. I sensed it would be dangerous for the rabbit to know who I was.

“You’re mistaken.” I continued. “Let’s go somewhere private and talk. I’m struggling with the #current assignment you set us.”

I hadn’t fooled the rabbit, though. It formed a gun with its fingers and pointed it at me, taking careful aim. Then pretended to shoot me. A smile creased its lips, and then it mouthed “bang.”

It was like an electrical #current passed through me. The rabbits had a personal interest in me!

Note: TimeTravelAuthors 9/9 Tone of your story. I think this bit sums up my tone nicely: creepy, weird, with many homages, and a tongue-in-cheek flavor.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 38b: EP 3: 2025 Miskatonic University”

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/11. How do you keep up urgency in your story?

I hustled Professor Skully into his office. Emily stood outside the door, keeping watch. The prevalence of fascistic rabbits, supernatural creatures, and disasters was enough to #instill a sense of urgency in my life.

“What’s going on, Professor Dubois?” Skully sputtered. It was a wonder I’d gotten him away from the rabbit without his going off. “If this is a game, the university will be most displeased. Body parts scattered in various cemeteries, your lab vandalized, and now you waltz in at the middle of the night. If I weren’t #monitoring the courtyard, who knows what you might have gotten up to.”

“I assure you, this is no game. Before I explain, I need you to answer one question: Are you in league with the rabbits?”

“Rabbits?” Skully’s eyes bulged. “What are on about? I warned you not to experiment on yourself!”

Either he was an excellent actor, or he knew nothing about our invisible rabbits.

“Well, never mind them. I just had to check.”

I held up my hands to stop him from speaking. “What I am going to tell you will sound fantastic. But I assure you it is the truth. Please, I need you to accept it and then answer some questions.”

“I’ll take your comments under advisement, but make no promises.”

“I’m a…”

My statement remained unfinished because of Emily’s warning from outside the door. “It’s coming.”

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 39c: EP 3: 2025 Miskatonic University

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/13. Saturday excerpt (optional word: fire)

“As melodramatic as this sounds, listen: Your life may depend on it,” I said to Professor Skully. His face was dubious before I even started. “I need you to pretend that I’m a confused student with an assignment question. It sounds crazy... but I have no idea what you wanted us to do the other day.”

My sudden, nonsensical change of words was because I could see the rabbit standing and listening at the office window. Finished, I mouthed, “Please.”

Skully’s eyes bulged, and his hands were positively twitching. “I don’t know who you think you are, coming into my office with this poppycock, but I’ve had enough.”

I would obviously have to do some fancy dancing.

“If you give me some time, I can explain. I assure you, I thought that’s what you wanted. The equations may be garbled, but I wouldn’t submit an assignment as a joke. I need you to work with me.” I emphasized some words, trying to convey my message.

“Very well, I’ll hear you out, but no more of your poppycock about…”

I cut him off. The cat would be out of the bag if he said “rabbits.” “Of course not, Professor. I thought you would laugh at some nonsense. I didn’t know it would #bug you. You know how I like a little joke now and then.”

“Indeed, you were always a bit of a card.” His tone indicated he was being polite, and he considered me far more than a “card.”

Emily waved at the window, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“#Bless you for playing along. Things are complicated, so you’ll have to take some of this on faith. I am a ghost.” Skully opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off with a hand gesture.

“I am probably the spirit of Professor Henrietta Dubois, but I’m a little hazy on those details.”

“Okay, I’ve had enough. Whether you’re insane or a joker, the board of regents will be #firing you, tenure or no. I will see to that.”

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 40d: EP 3: 2025 Miskatonic University

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 9/15. Any miracles?

I’d known it would come to this. Words wouldn’t be enough to convince Skully.

“Watch,” I said, pressing my fingers against the top of his desk. At first, the desk was solid and resisted me. Then my hand sank as though through #bog mud and every bit as unpleasant. When I pulled my hand out, I was holding a handful of pencils and pens from inside the drawer.

“That wasn’t a miracle,” I said. I had no idea whether it was occult or scientific, but I knew no divine intervention was involved. I was neither a saint, demon, nor bodhisattva.

“It’s a trick. Do it again!”

“No, it’s hard work. You said I died, and here I am. I just dematerialized my hand and pulled stuff out of your drawer. For heaven’s sake, this is the Metaphysical Research Building. You can’t get any more metaphysical than a spirit.”

Skully stared at me for a full minute before finally saying, “Okay, you’re a ghost. Why are you visiting me?”

I resisted the urge to say that I was the Ghost of Christmas Past. This wasn’t the time for one of my corny jokes. Remaining serious, I said, “I need you to tell me about time-travel.”

“What? You’re the expert on that. I only know what you told me.”

“Then repeat that.”

“Wait a second,” I said, holding up my hand. “I want my partner to hear this. Don’t worry, she won’t bother you. It’s as hard for her to materialize as it is for me to do the reverse.”

I politely ignored Skully’s open-mouthed stare and cracked the door so Emily could listen.

That done, I said, “Okay, I’m ready now.”

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 41e: EP 3: 2025 Miskatonic University

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/17. Wednesday snippet (optional word: strange)

Skully gave me a dubious look. I supposed the situation was #uncanny, but I had nailed it when I said this was the Metaphysical Research Building. One should expect the #bizarre.

Clearing his throat, he began. “You were studying parallel universes and time-travel. All semester, you’ve been saying you were on the verge of a breakthrough.”

“Three weeks ago, you showed up with a rat dyed pink, claiming it was from the future. I was skeptical, so you promised to deliver next week’s newspaper. I joked, ‘Next week’s laundry #list would do.’”

“The following day, you took a vacation. Events #crowded in after that. The day after you left, someone ransacked your lab and burned your notes. That evening, police found your body cut in half in two different cemeteries. It was quite the scandal.”

“Did you find the newspaper?” I asked.

He reached for a desk drawer. “It was rather gruesome…” He stopped, his eyebrows knit in puzzlement. “No, I don’t remember any newspaper.”

“Time-pressure,” I thought. The paper or the memory of it would destabilize this timeline. That I knew about time-pressure, AKA time-stability, showed that I understood more about time-travel than I realized. From what the professor had said, that made sense. Time-travel had been my area of research. It was just a matter of stimulating that knowledge to resurface.

“There must be time-wardens or something that disposed of me,” I said, swallowing the word “rabbits.” I sounded #crazy enough already.

“Go on, tell me about time-travel itself,” I said.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 42f: EP 3: 2025 Miskatonic University

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/19. Any references to other time travel works in your story? — No

Still puzzled, Skully opened the drawer and pulled out a local newspaper. The front cover announced, “The Pendulum Murder,” and underneath, “Another Spooky U Mystery.”

He rapidly closed the drawer. “From the day after you were discovered. Nothing futuristic about it.”

“About time-travel?” I nudged.

“Right, let’s see. You said, ‘Most people picture time as a single immutable line. My theory—and by that I mean your theory—is that time is closer to a high-pressure stream of water. All of time exists at once, and time-pressure keeps each contemporary timeparticle identical.’”

He took a breath, and I thought, “He has an excellent memory.”

He continued quoting me verbatim. “A small deviation in a timeline is easily corrected. For example, the rat I brought you. When I put it back into its cage, our timeline will be virtually identical to one where the rat wasn’t sent back in time. Even major changes may be smoothed over. If a large change remains uncorrected, that timeparticle flies out of the timestream, like a water droplet or minor spray.”

“Frankly,” he finished. “I thought all your drinking had #fried your brains.”

Emily called from the door, “Someone is coming.”

“Thank you, Professor Skully,” I said. “I suggest you forget this conversation, or you may wind up dead. There appear to be other time-travelers, and they don’t want to share their secret. Oh, and also, I was just a confused student and have left.”

“Wait,” he began, but I had already taken Emily’s hand.

“Best if I’m not seen here.” I didn’t add, “Especially if they’re #enamored with our rabbits.”

Judging by the loud voices down the hall, we would soon have visitors. We had to go now, and Amelia Earhart was who I thought of first.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 43: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart. 1 of 3

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 9/21. Characters’ sincerity? (Judge for yourself)

First came the shock of water lapping around my knees, followed by the roar of the surf filling my ears. Only later did I notice the briny odor and the bright, clear stars overhead.

“Where are we?” Emily asked as we waded up onto a beach of coral sand.

“Meeting Amelia Earhart. I’m not sure where or when. I didn’t have time to consider our destination. Sorry for not consulting you.”

“It’s all right. I have to reflect on your conversation back there. There doesn’t seem much point in changing history if it only affects…” Her voice trailed off as she searched for a word.

“A timeparticle,” I supplied.

“Right. What’s the point if it only affects a single timeparticle?”

“Guess it’s like being a doctor. You can only save one life at a time.” I wondered why I was arguing. I hadn’t been keen on changing time to begin with.

“Like a combat surgeon. As the poem says, ‘In Flanders fields the poppies blow.’” [Note 1]

“I suppose,” I said, looking around.

Note 1: Flanders Fields

Part 2 continues in the next post.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 43: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart. 2 of 3

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 9/21. Characters’ sincerity?

In front of us rose a dense wall of low, tangled scrub, and beyond that, the jagged silhouette of tall trees loomed against the night sky. I could identify palm trees among them. A cool breeze blew off the ocean, along with the steady drum of the surf. Out of the wind, the night was warm and humid. The air smelled of salt, leaf mold, and something faintly acrid.

“Heinr… Henrietta—Bijou?” She faltered and then asked, “What should I call you? That professor called you Henrietta something-or-other, but that’s not the name you gave me.”

“Mademoiselle Henrietta Dubois is dead, and I don’t even remember what her life was like. But Henrietta is easier than Luminelle. So, Henrietta Bijou will do.”

“Should I call you Hetty or Retta? What would you like?”

“Bijou. It’s easy, and what you’ve been calling me.”

“Okay, Bijou… Do you think there are timeparticles where there was no Great War and another war with Germany fizzles out?”

“It’s possible. If there are other time-travelers, it’s something they might want to do. Then again, maybe not. I’m guessing there’re forces working against that. Someone or something ransacked my office and murdered me.”

“Rabbits?”

“That seems like a good guess.”

“It never stops, does it, Bijou? We just keep doing it over and over.”

I changed the subject. Not to be a #jerk, but the conversation stirred up the shadows of uncomfortable memories and feelings. “I think I know where we are. Not the name, but the historical event. Let’s go find Amelia.”

I turned and walked down the beach. I found myself singing.

          Where have all the flowers gone?
          Long time passing.
          …
          Gone for soldiers, every one.
          …
          When will they ever learn?
          When will they ever learn? [Note 2]

Note 2: Where have all the flowers gone -The Kingston Trio

Part 3 continues in the next post.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 43: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart. 3 of 3

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 9/21. How sincere are your characters?

I finished the song as we rounded a shallow point. Emily took my hand, and we stopped to look out over the water. The night was peaceful. The surf, the scuttling of crabs, and the wind in the nearby brush sang a mournful refrain to the lyrics: “When will they ever learn?”

“That’s a sad song. I’ve never heard it before,” Emily said and sang a snatch, “‘Covered with flowers every one.’” Then she added, “Flanders Fields goes, ‘Loved and were loved, and now we lie, in Flanders fields.’ I hate the rest of the poem.”

A fish splashed out in the water.

Emily continued. “I used to believe that at least they were at peace. The guns were silent, and treaties were inked. I thought, ‘We’re done with war, and they can rest.’ But here we are, ghosts. You’re from the future, singing another sad song about the needless dying. The guns don’t stay silent long, do they?”

“No, they don’t,” I said. “Nor the sound of jackboots. ‘Gotta get down to it. Soldiers are gunning us down.’ That’s from another song—the rabbits scare me.” [Note 3]

Note 3: Ohio - Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 45: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart 1 of 2

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/23 Anger in your story

Emily was facing me now. Her eyes shone under the newly risen tropical moon. For the first time, I noticed the slight Asian cast to them, which made sense given her last name, Pang. A #mist had drifted in from the sea, casting a romantic halo around her face. “She isn’t bad-looking,” I thought, “if only there were fewer sharp edges to her personality.”

“Those lyrics sound angry,” Emily said. “But I think I understand. Like when we opened fire on the veterans in the Hoovervilles.” [Note 1]

“Yeah, it was like that. The National Guard shot students protesting a war. I have a question for you. Don’t answer if it’s none of my business, but as someone in military intelligence who’s also anti-communist, I wouldn’t expect you to be anti-militaristic.”

“That wasn’t a question,” she #pronounced, “but I’ll answer the one you meant to ask. Have you seen innocent people get shot? Or what an artillery shell can do to someone? I have.”

“Oh,” I said.

[Note 1] Hoovervilles

Continued in next post

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 45: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart 2 of 2

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/23 Anger in your story

“I suppose it’s time I told you a little about myself. I’m told I take after my grandmother, a strong-willed woman. She was Chinese and met a dashing American officer. They later married. As you’d imagine, that caused quite a scandal. Not that anyone in the family talks about it.”

“I avoided marriage by becoming a stringer for the Arkham Daily Star. I think Grandma would have approved. My family didn’t.”

“It sounds like you admire her. Did you ever meet her?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I wish I had.”

Emily picked up a shell and tossed it into the water. “Anyway, about me. In 1927, I was in Shanghai when Chiang Kai-shek purged the Communists. It was the right time and place for me, though not for the thousands who were slaughtered. The streets literally ran red. I survived and sent dispatches home. That’s when the service recruited me.”

Her voice grew quieter. “I also witnessed what happened to the Bonus Army when we fired on our own veterans. I’ve seen it all and have no love for it.” [Note 2] [Note 3]

She finished simply: “I love my country, but not war and violence.”

“Thank you,” I said, starting down the beach again. I wondered how we matched up. She was a tough lady. From what I could tell, I’d been a professor who enjoyed food, alcohol, and esoteric studies. The image I had of myself was a soft spinster type. She wanted to save the universe, and I just wanted to gadfly around.

I wasn’t one for self-flagellation, so I set those thoughts aside. “Let’s look for Amelia,” I said.

“I agree.” If I read Emily’s tone correctly, she was glad to leave the subject behind.

[Note 2] The Bonus Army
[Note 3] Shanghai Massacre (1927)

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 46: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart.

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 9/27 Saturday excerpt (optional word: pleasant)

The ocean mist that was drifting in was #pleasant after the night's muggy warmth. The beach had been fairly straight until this point, but with the limited visibility, we almost fell into what I guessed was an inlet to a lagoon. Soggy, burnt wood was mixed with the sand, and its faint odor perfumed the air. We still hadn’t seen Amelia, and I was more convinced than ever that I knew where we were. It was the #worst option, the one place I’d prayed we wouldn’t find ourselves.

“I think I hear something,” Emily said, pointing inland.

When I listened, I thought I heard crying, but it could have been the wind. “That way is as good as any,” I said.

The sound faded as we walked along the beach. No matter how hard I listened, all I could hear was the wind, the surf, and the scuttling of crabs, some of which were as big as a cat or small dog.

The memory of a pretty papillon named "Rindy" floated up into my consciousness, and I wondered if he had been mine.

“There it is again,” Emily said.

This time, I could plainly hear a woman weeping. The sound came from in front of us, off to the right.

“Amelia, Amelia Earhart!” I yelled, and the weeping stopped.

“There’s a path,” Emily said, pointing to a rough trail leading inland through the trees.

“I’m here! Thank God at last,” came a shout from the direction the path led.

We followed the voice and soon found a clearing. In the center were the ashes of a fire, scattered coconut, and crab shells. The scent of the jungle and sea mingled with the sour-sweet stench of death. On the far side of the fire lay a rotting corpse. Crabs that had nearly picked the skeleton clean scurried away from our light. The word “#gross” almost escaped my lips.

Just beyond stood a woman dressed in aviator clothes. We had found Amelia Earhart.

Note 4: Amelia Earhart

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 47: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart.

#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 9/29. Author's choice/promo

“At last! I thought no one would find us,” Amelia said. “Fred went to find water; we have none. He’s been gone a long time.” She waved toward a row of coconut shells on the clearing's edge. Her rambling speech gave no hint of what our eyes could plainly see: a rotting skeleton and the jungle visible through the aviator’s translucent body.

I whispered to Emily so that the apparition couldn’t hear. “In 1937, Amelia Earhart and her navigator, Fred Noonan, disappeared while crossing the Pacific. I don’t think she knows she’s dead. We need to break it to her slowly.”

“I didn’t hear a plane,” Amelia resumed. “Did you come from Howland Island? We missed it. Thank goodness we spotted Gardner.” [Note 5]

Note 5 Gardner/Nikumaroro
[Note 6] It is a #cardinal sin to omit the prompt word, so I cheated.
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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 47: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart.

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 10/5. Why are you important to the story?

As we stood there, trying to figure out what to say, the moon topped the surrounding trees. The apparition became even fainter.

“I need to tend the signal fire,” she said, gliding by us. It felt like a chill wind, and in the warm tropical night, it raised goosebumps on my skin. Inland, a bird #piped, eerie and forlorn.

“I suppose we should follow her,” I said, starting back down the track. “You’re lucky you weren’t caught in an obsessive loop like her.”

“Explain?”

“Classical ghost stories feature spirits caught in a loop created by unfulfilled desires, grudges, or death trauma. They’re doomed to repeat the same actions over and over.”

She nodded. “I might have been, except you came along. We wouldn’t be traveling through time except for you.”

She paused, thinking, then spoke. “Neither of us is a typical ghost, especially you. Are you sure you’re even a ghost?”

“It’s the only term I can come up with.”

The mist was thicker when we emerged from the jungle. White tendrils passed over the moon, causing an unsettling flicker. The clicking of crabs communicating had ceased in the direction the ghostly form had gone. Behind us, the sound resumed.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 47: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart.

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 10/7. Something odd/weird you've experienced

We didn’t have to walk far before Amelia came into view again. She stood where the inlet met the sea. Creamy currents ran past her as the lagoon emptied. A signal fire danced in front of her. Its ghostly blue flames #curled and flickered. The exposed white coral behind her blended into her ethereal form. She appeared to be the spirit of the island itself: white coral edging a deep indigo ocean. It wasn’t the weirdest thing I had ever seen, but it was close.

Emily grabbed my arm, and we stopped. Turning to face her, I waited for her to speak.

“How are we going to convince her she’s a ghost?”

“I don’t know yet.”

She nodded. “We might not be able to do things like stop the Great War, but we can do little things, like freeing her.”

“We can do that, but there might be more we can do. Next, let’s find out more about the rabbits. I think they’re up to no good.”

She nodded in agreement.

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#TimeTravelingGhost Part 48: EP 4: 1937 Amelia Earhart.

#Wss366 #MastoPrompt #TimeTravelAuthors 10/11. Saturday excerpt (optional word: most) #Occultober 10. #Nephelomancy #SundayLit Colour

We approached Amelia and the signal fire. Its #blue flames gave off no heat, chilling us instead.

Stopping a few feet from Ms. Earhart. My prepared speech froze in my throat when she spoke.

“See the clouds?” She asked, staring at the sky that rimmed the ocean. “I’ve always loved flying in their midst and wondered what they said. I imagined them whispering their #most guarded secrets: ‘Life is short; soar.’ If there’s a God, surely he must speak through them.”

She raised a ghostly hand and pointed to the mist moving across the moon. “Tonight, they say, there will be an end.”

Her hand dropped, and she turned toward us. “You came to rescue me?”

“No. Just to visit.” I said. The comment was deliberately cryptic. I wanted to draw her in slowly.

“Then I’ll have to wait for a ship,” she said.

Emily spoke next. “There won’t be a ship. Nobody comes for you.”

“Then they’ve given up? Forgotten?” Amelia’s voice was thin. The last word was edged with despair.

“A hundred years from now, they’ll still be searching. You’ll still be inspiring women to be bold. That’s your legacy,” I said.

“Legacy,” her voice now laced with pride.

“Noonan?” she asked.

“He’s dead, too,” I said.

“So this is the end they foretold.” Her hand swept, taking in the sky. “Not a rescue, but death.”

“It’s time to soar. The clouds want to share their secrets with you.” Unlike her usual pragmatic tone, Emily’s voice held deep compassion. It touched me.

“You no longer need wings.” Emily continued. “Let go of the earth and take flight.”

A smile touched Amelia’s face for the first time. “Thank you. I didn’t realize. But I’ll be back. I want to be the first woman in space.”

With that, she faded. #God rays streamed from the moon, illuminating her. Then they were gone, and with them, Amelia Earhart vanished.

All that remained were the #marble-like embers of her fire. #Moon-bright #pellets that winked at us.

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