This is a bit of a teaser for a work in progress that I'm currently hashing out the details for. The idea is that of a time traveling historian, thrust into the chaos of 1863 Gettysburg to solve a mysterious murder in the past, and hopefully find a way home. This isn't polished or anything, it's just a rough draft, so details are liable to change. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 1: The Past Whispers
The steady hum of the rental car’s engine was the only sound in Abigail "Abby" Malone's ears as she drove down the winding Pennsylvania roads, the mist-covered hills of Gettysburg stretching ahead. The countryside was a patchwork of fields and forests still damp from the morning rain, fog clinging to the ridges and valleys like a ghostly veil. Even now, over a hundred and sixty years later, the land still carried the weight of its history.
She exhaled slowly, adjusting the strap of her leather satchel beside her on the passenger seat. Inside, she carried notebooks, reference materials, and a small collection of documents that had led her here—documents that suggested the murder of a Union quartermaster had been more than just a footnote in the chaotic days leading up to the battle. It had been deliberate. And if she was right, it meant there were secrets buried beneath the history she thought she knew.
She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, eager for the drive to end. Gettysburg had been a second home to her since she was a child, dragged along on research trips with her father. But this was the first time she was coming here chasing something more than facts—she was chasing a mystery.
By the time she reached the town, the sky had brightened, though thick gray clouds still loomed overhead. The scent of damp earth and old stone filled the air as she pulled into the parking lot of the Gettysburg National Military Park Visitor Center, shutting off the engine. The town had grown, sure, but its bones—the historic buildings, the narrow streets, the weight of memory in the air—remained the same.
A short walk brought her into the Visitor Center, a sprawling complex filled with exhibits, artifacts, and archives. The familiar scent of aged paper and polished wood welcomed her as she stepped inside. She had spent countless hours here before, but today, she wasn’t just here for research. She was here for answers.
Abby made her way to the archives, flashing her credentials at the desk before being led to a quiet reading room. A small stack of documents had already been pulled from the archives for her—letters, requisition forms, and the journal of Quartermaster Everett Prescott, a man whose death had been ruled an accident. But now Abby had reason to believe otherwise.
Settling in, she carefully opened the journal, the pages fragile beneath her fingertips. Prescott’s handwriting was neat but hurried, the ink faded in places. She scanned the entries, searching for anything unusual, any sign that he had stumbled upon something he shouldn’t have.
And then she found it.
July 1st, 1863. The last entry.
They know. I cannot run. If this reaches someone—know that I did my duty. But I have seen too much.
Abby’s breath caught as a chill ran down her spine. This wasn’t just the rambling of a man caught in wartime paranoia. This was a warning.
Something terrible had happened here. And she was going to find out what.
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