Deryl's Determination

There was a ball game, and Deryl won. The crowd roared, and the smoke and lights were beautiful, but he didn’t care. He had to get home.

His mother was sick, and the doctor had said all their money was gone. He had to win this one last game.

When the roar finally died down, the announcer looked at him and said, “Well done, Deryl!” He looked so proud of Deryl that it nearly made his eyes water. “You just won your team the championship!”

Deryl jumped up and shouted with joy. He held up his hands in triumph as they clapped for him. "I did it!" he shouted above the din, watching bright lights flash across his hands as he waved them in celebration. Then he noticed that the lights were slowly fading, like tiny stars going out. "What's happening?" he asked himself, looking around. The lights on everything else were still flashing and glowing, but not on his own hands. He looked back down at them and saw that they were trembling now with a faint blue glow.

Then it hit him: he had been thrown forward in time! His hands showed it clearly—the blue glow meant only one thing: temporal displacement! He could move between worlds! He let out another shout of joy before turning to face the announcer once more. "I need to go!" he yelled into the announcer's face over the roaring crowd now beginning to chant his name again. "You have to tell me when I'm!"

The announcer smiled back at him happily and shouted back over the din, "It's 1767!"

"Perfect!" Deryl shouted back as he turned away from him and began looking around for a door or anything that would take him home. After a moment he spotted a man nearby who looked like an important official—maybe someone who could tell him what year it really was? As he approached the man, however, he realized something was wrong: instead of smiling or nodding at Deryl's approach, the man started backing away from him as though frightened by something frightening about Deryl's appearance or manner. Finally, once there was enough distance between them that Deryl couldn't reach him without jumping onto his desk, the man stuck out his hand toward Deryl as though trying to stop him from coming any closer—and suddenly there was a gun in his hand! When Deryl saw this happen—when he saw some strange man pull a gun out of thin air in front of his eyes—he remembered where he was: 1767!

"Take me home!"

Deryl yelled as he waved his arms in front of him wildly while backing away from this strange man with the gun; but suddenly there were other men with guns pointing them right at him too! Next thing he knew there were hundreds of people with guns surrounding him in every direction until there was no place left to run. Above all of them rose an enormous flag whose colors seemed somehow familiar…red…blue…green…yellow…purple…they danced before his eyes as though trying to remind him of something long forgotten…then there came a voice from somewhere beside him shouting something about treason against their king and their country; before long Deryl found himself stripped naked and bound to something cold and hard while people walked past spitting on him; then after even more time passed there came a loud crackling sound followed by pain spreading through his body like fire where the bullets struck; then after more time passed still he felt himself being lifted up by strong hands; then after more time passed still those same strong hands set him down on a bed covered with soft white sheets where people dressed in white gowns tended to him; then after more time passed yet still those same people took off several layers covering his skin; then after even more time passed still those same doctors shaved away all of his hair until they could see the bullet wounds they had cared for; then after even more time passed still those same doctors dragged sharp instruments across his skin until they healed up nicely; then after even more time passed still those same doctors taught him how to eat food so that he could recover even better; then after much longer went by still those same doctors had given up hope that they could save his life altogether so they moved him into another room where they gave up on caring for other patients so they could work harder on caring for just one patient together because if they didn't work hard enough soon enough perhaps no one would be left alive to care for any one patient left alive at all except maybe for themselves; finally after even more time passed still those same doctors gave up hope that anyone could save her life altogether so they moved her into another room where they gave up on caring for other patients so they could work harder on caring for just one patient together because if they didn't work hard enough soon enough perhaps no one would be left alive to care for any one patient left alive at all except maybe for themselves…