Las Vegas Nevada, august 7th 2009. Timeslip Laboratories
They stand on the other side of the protective glass that forms the windows of the testing booth, when they see the beginnings of a small swirling vortex cloud appearing before their very eyes. A loud round of applause erupts when everyone present witnesses Jeremy Machland emerge from the cloud and walk off of the black pad of the Timeslip accelerator. They converge on him almost all at once inundating him repeatedly with a barrage of questions ranging from; “how do you feel?” to; “What did you see?” he began with; “it was no big deal” but of course to Dr. Richard Meyers it WAS a big deal. After he sits in a debriefing room for two hours fielding questions from three of the four scientists that were involved with the design of the project, each deliberating over his answers to until they are satisfied that he has done nothing to interfere with the natural balance of history.
“Nope, I didn’t mention where I was from or what I was doing there, and when I was asked, I only gave them my first name. I left nothing behind and brought nothing back with me.” Jeremy tells them.
Dr. Richard Meyers steps through the doorway dismissing the other three members of the panel and sits down directly across the table from Jeremy Machland.
“So. Tell me Jeremy..” he says “Was there any discomfort at all?”
“I was a little disoriented at first but it passed rather quickly I must say. All and all it was just like walking through any other doorway.” Jeremy Answers.
“And the longitude and latitude? Did we get that right?” Dr Meyers asks.
“Yeah it was dead on. So anyway.. You know I don’t want to seem pushy or anything, but when is the next test planned for?”
“ Well, we’re going to have a team crunching numbers all night from the first test, so lets shoot for tomorrow morning. You may have to spend the night here in a small dormitory that we set up for you, you know for precautionary measures. You know in case there are any delayed effects on your health. We want to be ready for anything just in case Jeremy.” Dr. Richard Meyers pauses as they exit the debrief room and step into the hallway. He stops to light a cigarette as Jeremy hands him a piece of paper. Dr. Meyers gives him a puzzled look.
“A list doc. Just a few items that I’m going to be needing for my next little time hop.”
“So. Are you ever going to tell me what was so special about August 10th 1938?”
Jeremy turns to face him.
“Someday Doc. Someday.” he lights his own cigarette. “See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll have Tess see to your list Jeremy.”

He arrives from the dormitory early in the morning, after several hours of carefully going over every last detail of his next trip. He had to land at just the right time, and at just the right place. If he was off by a fraction he wouldn’t have a chance of putting his plan into action. Dr. Richard Meyers and his lovely assistant Tess meet him at the main lab door . She hands him a small duffel bag that he throws over his shoulder. Dr. Meyers eyes the bag suspiciously.
“Jeremy. You know that you can’t take anything with you.” He tells him.
“Yeah I know Doc, its just that the last time I didn’t plan everything right to the last detail, the clothes that I was wearing didn’t really say ‘1938’ you know? Well this time I’m going to look like I belong where I’m going.” Jeremy answers.
“ Well I guess that makes sense. We almost have the test booth set up for the next run why don’t you go change while we finish setting it up?”
He disappears down the hallway into the small bathroom at the end, And when Jeremy Machland reappears, he looks like he already stepped through a timewarp. His hair is slicked back and he is wearing a plain white tee shirt with a leather jacket and blue jeans with the bottom of the legs turned up. Everyone present eyes him curiously as he walks over to Dr Richard Meyers and hands him the piece of paper with the time and place on it.
“I sat up for six hours figuring out the longitude and latitude, and I think I’m going to be about 1/8 of a mile from where I need to be. You will double check it though I’m sure.” he says.
Dr. Meyers takes the piece of paper and enters the numbers into the mainframe of the Timeslip computer’s database. Slowly he turns to face Jeremy Machland. A look of complete confusion crosses his face.
“Mason City Iowa?”
“ Well Doc you did agree to let me pick my own times, dates and places didn’t you?”
The doctor lets out a slow rolling sigh.
“Yes Jeremy. Yes I did.” he answers with concern.
“And a deal is a deal.. Right doc?”
“Yes Jeremy. A deal is a deal.”
He enters the test booth at 10:55 am on August 8th 2009. And when the swirling vortex cloud begins to take shape, Jeremy looks over his shoulder at Doctor Richard Meyers as he steps up on the small platform and walks through the cloud and disappears.



February 3rd, 1959, 12:10 am. Two miles north of Mason City Iowa.
He stumbles awkwardly, forward from the cloud and almost falls completely to the ground his palms coming to rest on the cold wet asphalt, it is cold and very dark as his eyes try to quickly adjust to his new surroundings. Not far from him, he sees a dimly lit building, and after regaining his balance, he rises to his feet and begins to walk in the direction of the light. It is what appears to be a gas station with a light still burning in the garage, the door is fully open as Jeremy Machland slowly steps closer.
“Hello? Is there anybody in here?” he asks.
A figure appears through another door at the other end of the garage, it is an older man wearing greasy overalls. He slowly looks Jeremy Machland up and down.
“We’re closed son.” he tells him. “I’m just fixin to go on a call over at the airport, one of their gas trucks plumb broke down. They called and asked me if I could go fix it.”
“Yes sir, I figured you weren’t going to be open at this hour. I was just wondering if you could tell me how far the Mason City Municipal Airport is from here?” he asks him.
He steps outside of the garage door past him, and looks in both directions. And then back at Jeremy.
“Where’s your car?”
“Don’t have one sir.”
“You on foot are ya son?”
“Well yeah kinda.” Jeremy answers.
“You thinking about walking three miles in this weather? Hell son I just told ya that I was going to be heading that way shortly, you can ride over with me if you don‘t mind ridin in an old tow truck that is. By the way I’m Tom Ladel.” he says extending his hand.
“I’m Jeremy. Glad to meet you sir.” he answered shaking his hand.
And at 12:28 Am on February 3rd, 1959 Jeremy Machland gets into the cab of the tow truck with Tom Ladel as they begin to drive to the Mason City municipal airport where Jeremy Machland will deliberately attempt to change the course of history. But as it would turn out, history already had a plan of its own and just one mile from the airport at 12:35 Am, the right front tire of Tom Ladel’s Tow truck suffers a blow out and they have to stop to change it. Tom Ladel pulls the pocket watch from his overalls to check the time. And after they quickly change the tire they finally arrive at the Mason City Municipal Airport at 12:57 Am.

It almost feels as though he’s running in slow motion as he turns at the corner of the airplane hanger and heads towards the runway to where the small gathering of people are standing around the Bonanza aircraft as it is slowly being boarded some one hundred yards away. The engine roars to life as it prepares to take off, and Jeremy Machland feels as though his lungs are on fire. He tries to yell over the roar of the small aircraft's engine but they are still too far away, still though as he loses his footing on the icy ground and falls, he can still plainly see the thin black haired young man with the horn brimmed glasses as smiles in his direction, just before he enters the plane. Everything around him seems to stop. All time, all space. Everything except the plane. He feels his legs go limp as the sound of the engine accelerates, and shortly after 1:00 am on February 3rd, 1959 history has its way, as the wheels of the Bonanza slowly pull free from the runway and its lights slowly fade from view and softly disappear into the wintry Iowa morning. He falls down on his knees and begins to softly weep. As he knows that nothing he could have ever done, could have possibly altered history. He feels a hand on his shoulder and lifts his eyes to see the concerned eyes of Tom Ladel.
“Son? Are you alright?”
He struggles to his feet. Wiping away the tears from his eyes and softly sighs as he stares up at the dark sky.
“From this day on, nothing will ever seem right again.” he says turning to take one last look. Tom Ladel reaches out and puts his hand on his shoulder.
“They already fixed that damned ol gas truck just before we got here. So is there somewhere that I can give you a lift to son?”
They both turn away from the runway and slowly walk back to the tow truck.
“Anywhere but here.”

~Scratch A.B.T. copyright © 2009.~

Timeslip Laboratories. Las Vegas Nevada, August 6th 2009.
Interview #6 with possible test subject Jeremy Machland.
The curvaceous young woman stares down intently at the clip board as she begins the line of questioning. She raises her eyes to meet the impatient stares of her possible test subject.
“So tell me MR. Machland, why did you decide to give this program a go?”
He straightens his posture slightly before deciding to lean forward towards the conversation. His big brown eyes looking her up and down.
“I have my reasons.” he says.
She looks up at him and then back down at the clip board, and begins to flip through the notations before her fingers come to rest again on the top page. She raises her eyes to look at him more fully now.
“Oh dear. I don’t see anywhere on your application where you put an occupation. What a person decides to do for a living can say a lot about them, I‘m afraid that is necessary information MR. Machland, so what is your occupation please?”
He leans back in his chair and pauses for a moment.
“I’m a professional musician ma’am.” he tells her.
She nervously blinks as if trying to process the information all at once through her brain. He leans forward once again this time taking the direct approach.
“Look miss, lets cut through the bullshit shall we? Everybody in this little program knows that I’m the last shot that you all have at a live, willing test subject. And yeah I know that there’s a chance that wherever I get sent to, if I do make it in one piece there, that I may not get back. I know the risks and I’m willing to take them under one and only one condition.” he tells her.
“And that condition would be?”
“I get to pick the places and the dates that I get sent back to.”

She exit’s the interview room at 9:47 AM PST, and returns at 10:05 AM. She walks over to where Jeremy Machland is sitting.
“Dr Meyers will see you now.” she says.
Two large muscular security guards usher him down a long white hallway to a single set of double doors at the very end. To where a tall, thin, pale white man with slightly graying hair stands waiting. Upon seeing Jeremy Machland he moves towards him extending his hand.
“MR. Machland! Good of you to join us, welcome to Timeslip. I’m DR Richard Meyers. I‘ll be at the controls when you do your first Timeslip. Now before we begin we need to make a couple of things clear okay?”
He nods to the affirmative.
“You can’t take anything with you to the past, just your clothes, anything that you do could alter the course of history and could very well trap you there, so try to observe mostly and nothing else. Upon arrival to your destination, you will have 6 hrs to get back to the same exact place that you arrived at. Or you may miss the opportunity to return to your own time, we can try to resend to the same time place and date but there are no guarantee’s that it will work. Are we clear MR. Machland?”
“Yes sir. We are crystal clear.” he answers.
“Step into the chamber MR. Machland.”
He enters the testing chamber at 12:22 pm, and DR. Richard Meyers begins the notation process.
“Test subject is a Caucasian male, 30 years of age, 6 Ft 2 inches, approximately 211 lbs, brown hair, brown eyes. MR. Machland?”
He turns to face the doctor’s voice.
“Yes?”
“May I ask you of the significance of the place, time and date that you chose?”
“They are significant trust me.”
Very well then, you will soon see a cloud like formation forming on the large black pad in front of you, when it fully develops. Simply walk into it, and if my calculations are correct you should come out on the other side at the exact date, time, and place that you chose. Remember you will have 6 hours to return to the same exact spot of your arrival. Clear?”
Slowly, a swirling twisting cloud begins to appear in the form of what appears to be a small vortex. Jeremy Machland looks back at Dr. Richard Meyers and without hesitation walks straight into it and disappears from view.



August 10th 1938, 15 miles outside of Greenwood Mississippi.
He steps clear from the cloud feeling a bit disoriented at first, it is dark outside as he finds himself standing on a dirt road outside of an old dilapidated dimly lit building, there are faint echoes of music that float through the night air that have a strange almost haunting quality to them, the music, the jovial sounds of a festive audience, it all seems oddly familiar, and Jeremy Machland feels a strange tug at his consciousness that tells him that he isn’t in Las Vegas Nevada anymore. He sees small crowds of people filing from the building and then it grows strangely quiet as he slowly almost cautiously makes his way towards the front door, it swings open and a tall thin black man carrying a tattered old guitar case shuffles towards the front steps. Jeremy Machland immediately recognizes him and moves carefully forward.
“Hey man, was that you playing in there?” the words almost feel as though they are stumbling out of his mouth to formulate the question. The twenty seven year old black man turns to face him.
“Yes sir. That was me.” he answers almost suspiciously.
Jeremy tries to flash him a reassuring smile.
“You sounded great man! Where’d you learn to play like that?”
He begins to relax a little at Jeremy’s obvious admiration of his musical skills.
“Well. You know I just picked up a little bit here and there. You know we don’t get too many white folks this way much, So who are you mister?”
Jeremy stumbles for a believable answer. But decides to try to change the subject to buy himself some time.
“So hey, do you think that maybe you could play another tune? You know- here on the porch?”
The young man smiles and sits down on the first step and begins to open the guitar case.
“Sure mister, I’ll play you a song, so anything you want to hear special?” he asks.
Stunned by his agreement, Jeremy slowly sits down beside him on the step.
“Uhh.. No sir.. Whatever you feel like playing will be fine.” Jeremy tells him.
The soft almost damp feeling of the night air begins to engulf him as he watches with a sense of child like wonder as the bluesman begins to run his nimble fingers across the strings of the old acoustic. And as the first clear sounds of music begin to bloom into the early Mississippi morning Jeremy Machland can feel the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise.

It begins with that familiar twang, that twelve bar form that Jeremy Machland and every other guitar player of his generation with any knowledge of the blues had become so familiar with. He must have listened with great admiration to that recording at least ten million times over if not more. And now here he was, hearing it live.
Come on,
Oh baby don’t you wanna go
Come on
Oh baby don’t you wanna go
Back to that same old place
Sweet home Chicago.
He finishes the song and a uncomfortable silence falls between them as Jeremy Machland struggles to find the right words to say.
“That was simply amazing, man, you have a real gift there. You need to share it with the world.”
The bluesman flashes him a shy smile.
“Well thank you for that.”
They sit there for a few hours just talking about music and whatever other subject decides to cross paths with their conversation. All of the while, Jeremy Machland can’t let on that he is a musician, and as much as he desperately wants to ask, he can’t even touch that famous guitar, or even let on in the least that he is in the slightest of ways familiar with any of the young mans music. And soon the eastern sky begins to softly brighten and Jeremy rises from the step knowing full well that the sixth hour is rapidly approaching. And together he and the bluesman slowly walk down the street. He wants to tell him, to just keep playing, no matter what, to share his music with as many people that will listen with open hearts minds and ears. But he knows that history would already hold a special place for him. When they arrive back at the exact spot Jeremy turns to face him for the last time.
“I have to leave now man, but thanks for playing those songs for me.”
The bluesman smiles and extends his hand.
‘By the way.” he says “I didn’t catch your name.” The bluesman tells him.
Jeremy turns to face him a reaches out to shake his hand.
“My friends call me Jeremy.” he answers.
He smiles back.
“ I’m Robert Johnson. Think you can remember my name Jeremy?” he laughed.
And as he turned to leave the cloud slowly swirled into view, Jeremy Machland watched him walk away, and he could only say under his breath.
“The whole world will remember your name Robert.”
He turned and walked into the swirling cloud and slowly faded from view.

~Scratch. A.B.T. copyright © 2009~



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A few weeks ago I came across a story already in print that was very similar to what I had in mind for Wolfsbane, I thought the idea was an original one but as it turns out so did someone else. this is the second time that this has happened to me, so its a little disheartening. If I can find a new way to try to finish it I will, but for now both posts must be removed, the last thing that I want is for someone to cry plagiarism. I would not want to even think that someone else would steal my idea's nor would I ever finish something that is too close to someone else's. I apologize for not being able to finish it, and I'm a little sad too, but until I can come up with a different direction for it the posts must be removed.

Thanks for Reading Scratchworks!