The brown-haired man shook his head as he groggily blinked his eyes open. The bright blue eyes of his companion looking down into his own as he reached up to scratch the cat behind its ear. A small smile surfacing upon the males lips until he heard the sound of something falling to the ground. It sorta sounded like a flower pot being thrown onto the ground.

Slowly sitting up, the writer found himself in an unfamiliar room. Wood paneling lining the walls. A large and expensive looking black and gold carpet sitting underneath him. Bookshelves lining what wall space was available due to the arched ceiling. There was even a desk with a book sitting open upon the table next to the man and his cat. “Where are we?” Neil questioned as he scrambled to his feet, Locke clutched to his chest as he did so.

The brunet scanned the room for a moment, curious as to where he was. He could only guess that some scholar lived here as each book had Latin or Greek writing… even a few with Norse words scrawled across them. “Amazing, Aunt Barbara would love to be here right now…” Turning to the opened book the male’s eyebrows scrunched up at the writing.

ante diem vii Idus Augustas MCMXXVII A.D[1]

I write this now for whoever may read this journal as a warning of what lies within this city. Many would say that Beachcastle is a typical town, but it's not. Things lurk here which have the ability to give someone the power over the slumbering gods. We cannot allow anyone to find these objects. Please… if you are reading this protect the -

Tearing his gaze away from the book, he heard the door creaking open. The noise almost seemed to echo ominously as Neil tightened his hold on the cat. Locke digging his long claws into his master's hoodie. Anticipation and anxiety gnawing at both of them as the man hesitantly took a few steps toward the door before another noise reached his ears… shattering glass.

Throwing caution to the wind, the male hurriedly reached the hallway. His eyes instantly flew to the only closed door on the floor. Swallowing, Neil slunk forward. A low growl rumbled through Locke’s chest as they neared the door.

Neil allowed the cat to hop out of his arms. The feline leading the charge towards the door like a brave little trooper. The cat stopping at the slightly ajar door, his bright eyes turning towards his master as if to ensure the human was ready to see what lay beyond it. “Alright,” With that, Locke threw his weight into the door, all to sure his master wouldn't have done so on his own.

Once more the room was filled with bookshelves, however, there were no books. The room seeming more like untouched storage than an actual room. Multiple boxes stacked atop one another, a few left open to show its contents. Mainly old clothing and art pieces.

“Merrrow!” Locke's voice brought Neil back to the task at hand, figuring out what was going on here. Stepping forward, Neil nearly gagged at the bloody corpse which laid on the ground behind a large stack of boxes. The desk chair in front of him having a few small splatters of blood. And the man's hand reaching forward, towards something.

“Looks like whoever got to him didn't get the job done at first… there’s multiple stab wounds. But, what did you have…?” The man looked pretty average. He wasn't dressed to fancily, nor was his clothing ripped or torn by anything but his wounds. He didn't entirely seem like he had a ton of money, well aside from all the books that he kept, but there had to be another reason.

“You're a very inquisitive boy. Though, I suppose that's why I singled you out apart from all the people of your time.” The eerily familiar voice made both Neil and Locke turn to face the person speaking to them. Only to find the same Middle-Eastern man who had been gunned down not too long ago. Looking perfectly fine as if he'd never been shot by those men.

Neil wondered if he was simply more shaken than he thought by the man's murder. However, he never did get a good look at the man. Really all he remembered was a coal color suit and somewhat tan skin. But now he could see that the man had hazel eyes and dark brown or black hair. “Am I dreaming?”

“Somewhat,” The male spoke as he leaned against an old shelf. His arms crossed as he seemed to contemplate something. “From what I’ve gathered in my time as a traveler, all people have an energy which is specific to them… but also another which is specific to that time. When the energy collides with someone from another time it can knock you out for a while.”

“So it's a dream,” Neil muttered, walking to stand a bit closer to the male. Locke throughout a weary look to the dead body before glaring up at the stance man.

“Yes, but, this isn't a normal dream. My watch, which is now in your possession has brought you here. To the scene of a crime which will cause shockwaves to the time stream should the killer not be caught.” The man spoke, a frown making its way to his features. “Somehow, you being in this very house has allowed the watch to properly lock onto this event and pull you into a fragment of time here.”

Neil blinked, the man seemed to know so much about what was going on and yet, so little at the same time. “I don't understand…”

“Give it time, soon you will likely find the answer.” The man spoke as he pushed himself away from the shelf and towards the male. “Now, it's time for us to part ways for the last time, Neil… Locke. I wish you well.”

Neil groaned as he began to move his body. His eyes opening to meet Locke's own. The two staring at one another for a moment. Almost as if they were both questioning the strange happenings they had experienced within their dream. “Man, that was an odd dream,” Neil mumbled as he took note of his surroundings. This wasn't his home…

“Hello, are you feeling better,” A small voice spoke at his side. His eyes moving towards the little girl sitting at his side. Her somewhat dull green eyes locked on him as she gave the smallest of smiles to him.

“Uh, Yeah… I'm fine.” Neil spoke as Locke crawled to the edge of the bed as his master tried to sit up. Groaning each time he even attempted to move. “Where am I, ”

“Blackford Farm, Beachcastle.” The girl spoke up, her eyes seeming to cloud with confusion for a moment before realization hit her. “You're not asking where you are, are you? You want to know what time you're in right?” Neil gave a stiff nod to the little girl. Wondering how odd the day could get from here on out. “1927,”

His mouth hung open for a few moments. His eyes widening just the slightest. It was the same year as was entered in the book. That couldn't be a coincidence. And it couldn't have been anything remotely close to a dream. They were never so detailed, nor could he remember them upon waking. “This is real, I really went back in time?”

The girl didn't really say much concerning that for a moment. Simply giving the man a few moments to contemplate what was happening to him. However, after a few moments, Neil had come to realize that it didn't really matter anymore. If he was in the present he wasn’t important. He was only a writer. And yet, that man almost seemed like he was entrusting Neil and Locke with the fate of all time.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Neil turned his gaze back to the little girl. Her eyes still glued to the male, simply observing him almost curiously until all a sudden he stuck his hand out. The child hoping back in slight fear. Her hand shakily moving to connect with his in a handshake as she hesitantly took another step forward again.

“I'm Neil Patterson,” The male spoke as Locke came forward and placed his paw over their hands. "And this is Sherlock, but Locke is just fine."

The girl giggled as Locke almost seemed to smile at her. “Hilda. Hilda Blackford.”

With the intros between the three done, the sandy blond haired child ambled towards the doorway. Her brand new looking black converse all stars making rhythmic thuds against the floor.  The child's choice in footwear almost made the male do a double take. He knew of the shoe's existence a few years prior to 1920 - something he only knew thanks to Hayden's obsession with the shoes - but he never thought they looked nearly the same the modern day ones. “Who'd have thought…”

As Hilda reached the door she appeared to peer down the hall. “Mama, he's awake.” She shouted. The loudness of her once quiet voice causing Neil to jump just the slightest bit.

Not long after that,  the steps began to groan and creak, signaling the arrival of another person. Likely Hilda's mother. Small footsteps resonated through the hall, and soon a woman in a pale green dress stood in the doorway, smiling as Locke jumped on Hilda's shoulder and licked the side of her face.

"Hilda, would you please let me talk to Mr. Patterson," Hilda quickly seemed to notice her mother's appearance in the room. Her smile faltered as she noticed the paleness of her mother's skin and tired eyes. Something which seemed to almost make the once beautiful and lively woman seem like a ghost trapped in this world. "Why don't you try feeding our furry, little friend now that he knows everything's alright? I'm sure he's hungry."

At her mother's words, Hilda gave a curt nod and briskly made her way out of the room, with her lips set in a firm line. Mrs. Blackford sighed as she pulled a seat over to sit next to Neil. "I have to say thank you, it's been a while since she seemed happy like that. You and your cat really are some kind of miracle, Mr. Patterson."

"Ugh, thanks..." he managed to utter. The gears in his head slowly turned until he eventually came to a realization. "How do you know who I am?" He frowned, certain that he'd only told his name to Hilda.

The woman pinched the spot between her tired green eyes before she reached into the bedside table, fishing out a square price of white plastic, then handed to Neil. His driver's license. "Oh, "

She tucked a strand of sandy hair behind her ear. "I know that you're from another time, and your not the first. Nearly a month ago, a man named Mr. Issa came to us. He said that he would send someone able to help me find out what happened to my husband."

This woman knew about time travel... Was it common at this point in history? Well... He supposed it had happened at least twice by now. However, it would explain why so many things about Beachcastle's history was so conflicted. It always seemed like there were two different stories to each event. With more than a few big differences between them.

Putting the thought aside, he sighed. Another more uncomfortable one replacing the last. Mr. Issa. He had said that the current location he was in was why Neil wound up in that dreamscape. That it brought him to the sense of a murder that would cause shockwaves through the time stream. He was curious as to what the man had meant,  yet he had no idea how to go about solving a murder. "I'd love to help, but I'm a writer. I'm no detective."

The woman slowly rose from her seat. Her calm look remained as the smallest smile came to her tired features. "Sometimes, there are things that we can only perceive with a different mindset. The police cannot do anything for my husband - they're too blind to see it. Even my eldest son, Vincent, is as blind to the fact that they aren't dealing with something typical. But, maybe you will be able to show them the light."

Hilda had returned by now. Half of her body barely peeked out from the doorway. Her once bright green eyes now as dull as they were the moment Neil had met her. Her smile now replaced with a frown. She must have been just as desperate to see her father's killer brought to justice as her mother was.

After a moment Neil even found Locke sitting in the doorway, the felines bright blue eyes settled upon the girl's sorrow-filled face before they moved to stare at Neil. The animal’s blank stare almost seeming to go through his very being. As if he were somehow attempting to sway his master's decision. Which in Neil's mind he knew the cat was defiantly doing. “Fine,” Neil sighed as he brought his gaze back to Mrs. Blackford's hopeful green eyes. “I'll help,”

The woman let out a small breath of relief, shaking Neil's hand. "Thank you... I'm happy you're willing to help us." She spoke as her eyes seemed to well up with tears. A few happy sobs leaving the woman before she took her leave with a small goodbye spoken between the two. Hilda grinning from ear to ear as she gave Neil a small wave before she followed her mother downstairs. The small girl saying something about going to go visit Forrest and Robert at Mr. Cricket's home.

Locke on the other hand, simply gave his master an approving look. His head almost seeming to bob up and down as if in a nod - though Neil slightly thought he was imagining it - before he trotted down the steps after Hilda. Leaving Neil to contemplate his next move.

___
[1] On the seventh day of August 1927 A.D (Latín)