Somewhere in Time

Chapter One

The bright solar rays piercing through oaken branches forced his eyes to flicker, and wonder sleepily ahead. The tree was unfamiliar to him. He sat up and surveyed his surroundings. There was a small pond to the northeast side, and surrounding the area, were rolling, green hills. Opposite this lake, a small, grey-stone structure, which bared a little resemblance to Stirling Castle, in Scotland. One of few the differences, is that the brick and mortar still appeared to be fresh. Bruce glanced around him again.

"Where the hell am I?" he breathed to himself.

A little too quickly, he brought himself to his feet, stopping to squint his eyes towards his hands. The skin appeared smooth, and regenerated, the markings of age appearing to have disappeared. Curious he left the lone, shady tree for the pond to freshen up his face. The water rippled and sparkled clearly in the high-evening light, perfectly showing the bottom. He halted just before dipping his fingers in.

Squinting once more he peered at his own reflection staring back at him, "what the.....?"

His hair no longer consisted of streaks of shining silver. It was replaced by long, burnished bronze locks which glinted in the full sun, reminding him of his youthful days. Silken fingers massaged an even silkier, smooth-shaven face in which Father Time's mark had simply vanished. Bedecked in a muskateer-styled shirt and brown, leather trousers, it really didn't surprise him, as he had worn similar outfits before, but that had been years.. No, DECADES ago in his line of work.

"Sir Paul!" he heard a female's voice shout, and quickly turned around, peering in her direction.

The figure, carrying a wicker basket in which appeared to be linens, and her other hand, shielding her fair face from the bright day, slowly headed toward the pond. She was dressed in a simple, blue garment, with her platinum hair tied back and covered by a white, bandanna-styled cloth.

"Is she talking to me?" he wondered aloud.

"There you are!" she cried, finally caught up to him.

"Have I died!?" he blurted, "Is my family going to be okay!?"

The young lady stared in disbelief, "Are you dead? What family? What is this folly?"

Bruce said nothing.

"Sir Paul m-"

He interjected, "Please, call me Bruce. I hate being called Paul."

The bewilderment of her visage increased, "As you wish, but I have no time for play or prattle, as you can see. Father wishes to speak with you."