Travelin’ In The Wayback Machine.

It's set for 1859 and the door is closed, I'm sitting down. Rubbing hands nervously, I reach out and turn the machine on, listen to its hum, feeling the vibration around me and through me.

Looking through the thick plate-glass, I see my time evaoprate, as if vaporizing. 2018 is gone. Going back, back, back.

I catch a glimpse of Martin Luthor King, John Kennedy, even Elvis when he was young and I don't think famous, yet.

Buildings, roads, landscape change rapidly.

Cars made of steel, fishtails, wide plexi-glass lights. Girls in bobby-socks. Soldiers taking off to fight Hitler. The past is moving quickly.

A group of Klansmen with torches, backwood stills making white lightning, men dressed in flannel suits. Women in to the ankle dresses.

Time is flying by to the past.

Will I be happy seeing my great-grandfather? I know not to tell him who I am as I know he wouldn't believe me, but I brought my camera to take a picture of him. The man I often heard much about but because of time, never would have had the chance to meet him.

Slowing down. All I can see is a thick gray. Like a fog in old London town. The machine stops. I have arrived.

Standing, not feeling out of sorts, I open the hatch door and step out and that is when I heard the noise. The yelling and screaming, and—gunfire.

People are running in every direction, but from what? What the devil is going on?

I see people in hand-to-hand in fighting, people shot or clubbed to death. I hear words like southern sympathiser, and, damn you yankees. But the Civil War is still a good eight months away from starting. Or, is it that there were smaller wars/skirmishes, history never told us about?

And then I see him. I have heard his description thousands of times and would know him anywhere.

I walk toward him when he turns suddenly, a musket in his hands and points it directly at me and fires. I feel the ball tear through my chest and feel my body plummet to the hard-packed patch of dirt. It burns, badly.

As people run by and over me, and the blood seeps from my chest, I roll to my side to get back to the Wayback Ride, but I can't see it for the thick clouds of smoke from all the shooting going on. Then, only two thoughts crossed my mind that will die with me. I did get to see my great-grandfather, and I should have never done this.