1895 Story. Murdoch Mysteries.

Chapter 2: Out of Place, Out of Time

DAVID

I opened my eyes slowly, my head pounding as the echoes of a blaring alarm faded in my ears. The light was harsh and disorienting, making me squint as I struggled to place myself. I braced my hands against the mirror, pushing myself up, and took in my surroundings. The room, which had been full of props and painted walls, was now stark white-empty, like it had never been touched. My stomach twisted.

The girl... The girl who'd been beside me-she was gone, too. The only things in the room were the costume boxes I'd carried. I blinked, trying to make sense of it, but every answer escaped me. A heavy sense of urgency pushed me toward the door.

I headed out of the storage room, making my way to the main hall, but it was empty-strangely, unnervingly so. The place was spotless, almost as if no one had ever stepped inside, let alone performed. A twinge of fear crawled up my spine. Where is everyone? The boxes I'd left on stage had vanished, along with every trace of the show. Even though I was supposed to be cleaning up, there was nothing to clean.

Rushing outside, I froze, completely stunned. I wasn't standing outside the theater I knew. Instead, I was staring at a world that looked like something straight out of an old photograph.

---

EVELYN

I stepped out of the theater, looking for the boy from earlier. Whatever had just happened couldn't have been a trick of my imagination. But the sight that met my eyes as I stepped outside made my breath catch.

The streets were alive with people dressed in elegant gowns and fine coats, men sporting pocket watches hanging from their jackets. The buildings were quaint, lined with boutiques and bakeries, with signs painted in antique script. A few steps away, I noticed a newspaper stand and hurried over.

"Good day, miss!" greeted the man with a deep voice and a welcoming smile.

"Uh... good day," I stammered, glancing down at the newspapers. My heart raced as I reached for the top one. If I'm really in the date from the mirror... it should say here.

"May I?" I asked, voice barely steady.

"Of course!" he replied cheerfully.

I unfolded the newspaper and stared at the title in disbelief: Gazetta Toronto... 1895. My mind raced, each thought spinning faster than the last. My pulse thundered in my ears as I scanned the headlines, trying to come to grips with the impossible truth. 1895?!

A sudden shout broke through my daze, snapping me back to reality. Hooves clattered against the cobbled street, growing louder, closer. I barely had time to look up before a pair of strong hands seized me, pulling me out of the way just as a horse-drawn carriage sped past, narrowly missing me.

"Are you all right?" The voice was low, familiar. I looked up to find myself staring into the eyes of the boy from the theater. But he was dressed differently, like all the other men here, save for the lack of a pocket watch.

"You...!" I stammered, both surprised and a little relieved. He'd saved me. And his eyes... they were distractingly intense.

He coughed, pulling his gaze away. "If you're done with the newspaper, come with me." He took it from my hands, handing it back to the vendor, and started leading me down the street, his grip firm.

“Wait, I don't even know you!” I protested, tugging my hand from his grasp. “Why should I go anywhere with you? How do I know this isn't your fault?”

“My fault?” he retorted, eyebrows raised.

I shook my head, my frustration bubbling. “You’re the one who pressed that button!”

You seem a little careless too, he said —do you have a habit of standing in the middle of streets?”

I opened my mouth to argue but realized he was right. Both times, I had almost done something reckless.

“Fine,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “But I'm not moving an inch until you tell me where we’re going.”

“Just follow me. I’ll explain on the way,” he said impatiently, taking my hand again. This time, I let him lead, walking side-by-side.

---

DAVID

I kept glancing around, my nerves frayed as people stared, murmuring to each other. I'd changed into the period costume we'd used in the play to avoid drawing attention, but I could still feel every set of eyes on us.

After a few blocks, Evelyn spoke up, her voice laced with confusion. "Wait a minute. Where are the clothes from? The storage room was empty when I left it."

I stopped, taken aback. "Empty? It couldn't have been. I found boxes of costumes, including this one. And where were you, anyway? I've been around here for a while."

She looked at me, her brow furrowed, as if she were trying to fit the pieces together. "I don't know how long I was in there... but when I left, you weren't there."

The tension between us eased slightly as curiosity took hold of her expression. We reached our destination-a narrow, unmarked door beside the police station. I stopped and reached into my pocket, pulling out a small notebook I'd found with the boxes.

"What's that?" Evelyn's eyes lit up as she glanced at the worn cover.

"See for yourself." I handed her the notebook.

She opened it to the first page, her eyes widening as she scanned the words. "Plans for a... time machine?!" She turned to me, astonished.

I nodded, trying to keep my expression serious despite the odd sense of excitement bubbling up. "The mirror's plans, actually. According to the notes, it works... and there's more information inside. It even says where to find the inventor."

Evelyn's face lit up with realization. "Are you serious? We can find the person who made this?"

"Right here," I replied, pointing to the small note in the book. It led us to this police station-the same one we stood in front of now, Station House No. 4.

We exchanged a look, the same mix of disbelief and wonder passing between us. It was absurd, but standing here together, it felt like maybe-just maybe-we were beginning to understand what had happened to us.