"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

***

Philip was a young teenager running from abuse, an abuse brought on by his foster father. Thinking escape was the only option for him, he bolted from home and ran head-on into the warm embrace of...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

***

I had run away from home two days ago, and was bent on putting as much distance as I could between my abusive foster father and me. I had been traveling by night and keeping out of sight during the day, always moving west at every opportunity. While staying in the shadows last evening, I came across a bicycle recklessly dumped near a driveway in someone's darkened yard. I took it, and began to peddle into the night in earnest...quickly allowing the miles to drop behind me, silently hoping that its owner would somehow understand my reasoning for stealing their bicycle.

In the early September dawn, I felt confident that I could continue traveling with the morning light, at least as long as my strength would last. As the sun climbed in the morning sky, I turned down a hard-packed dirt road and headed away from the main highway. Further and further on I rode, as the fields of corn seemed to whisper their encouragement to my desperate attempt to escape.

I was rolling along fairly quickly. To my left was a green and rolling pasture, where a few cows dotted its hills, lazily lulling in the warmth of the sun. To my right was a long, seemingly endless run of field fencing; behind it was mile after mile of tall greenish brown stalks of tall, drying corn. Ahead of me was a long, dusty white ribbon of road, with each rise visible in the distance, until it disappeared entirely in a small point on the horizon.

On one of those far hills, I saw the gleaming reflection from an eastbound automobile. I slowed down, afraid that the reflection may belong to a local county police officer. I glanced first toward the pasture, then looked toward the dense corn.

Making a quick decision, I hoisted the pilfered bicycle over the fence and let it fall upon the other side. Slowly I worked it through the corn until I was somewhere around 12 rows deep, and waited there in the corn. As the light wind passed through the corn, it hissed its displeasure with me being there, throwing the long wild leaves around with its warm breath.

I saw the vehicle pass. I was right; it HAD been a county police car! I stood among the corn for almost ten minutes, too terrified to move. Slowly, gently I lowered the bike's kickstand and ventured toward the fence, still keeping hidden in the safety of the corn. Several hundred feet down the road, the car had stopped. The officer was standing beside his car with the door open. He was searching the opposite pasture with binoculars.

I quietly retreated into the corn and returned to the bicycle. I knew I couldn't chance going back out on the road. If I were seen, the officer would surely stop me and wonder why I was in the field... on a bike.

I quietly began to walk with the row, hoping the noisy, dried corn leaves would hide the sound of my movement. After I walked a few yards, I saw a gap in the row where two or three plants had failed to grow. I pushed the bike through this, and moved deeper into the cornfield by one row. Again and again I found gaps like this, and each time I moved further into the interior of the field and away from the road.

At first, the corn leaves had been slightly wet with dew, but that dew had left long ago. I looked up and noticed that the sun was almost directly above, so it had to be close to noon. As I continued, the dry leaves scratched at my arms, hands and face, and the irritation left me feeling desperate for some avenue of escape out of this field. I was hoping that I would come to another road soon, or perhaps the cornfield would empty out near a house where I could try and scrounge up something to eat.

Suddenly, I found myself upon a path meandering in the middle of the field! It was several feet wide and thick with ankle-deep grass. I carefully looked both ways before I pushed the bicycle into the lane. I could travel in either of the two ways; one would lead me back toward the road... the other in the opposite direction. I had no real way of knowing how far I had moved away from the main road, but I was certain that I didn't want to go back into that direction again.

I squinted in the bright sun and turned the bike down the path, silently praying that it was moving away from the main road. The grassy lane that I peddled the bike down wasn't much to speak of; it was probably wide enough for a tractor or truck but didn't look like it had been traveled upon very recently.

After I rode for almost an hour, the path merged and opened up into a large grassy meadow. I stopped at the outer edge and looked to see if I was in the vicinity of a house or worse yet, another main road. Fortunately, there was neither; only an ancient windmill stood sentinel on this ground, apparently the last remnants of an old farm. I pushed the bike over toward a small grouping of trees and lowered the kickstand. I rested on a log and examined the area for anything that would be useful for a night's stay.

I walked back toward the bike and noticed a small, misshapen greenish ball as it hung from the tree. Moving toward it slowly, I smiled as I realized it was a pear and gently picked it from its branch. I scrubbed it against my soiled shirt and began to eat, holding it with my teeth I began to search out others that grew close to the ground. After retrieving several and returning back to the bicycle, I sat down and ate each and every one of them.

Soon, their cores littered the ground at my feet. I stood, and with one great stretch, I picked my way through the tall grass, heading toward a small stand of trees about fifty yards away to relieve myself. Not far from the trees, I noticed an ancient vehicle hidden among the tall grass. The old wooden spokes at the centers of the tires were long gone, so the rusted fenders were sitting directly upon the ground. I picked out a spot several feet away from the old car and peed, intently studying the auto as I relieved myself.

The great round headlights sat high upon the fender. Their glass was still intact, looking like ancient eyes now lifeless and dead. I zipped my fly and moved toward the rusted car. The glass was smoky around the edges, yet amazingly I could detect no visible cracks or breaks. I gently worked the handle, and it yielded under pressure and allowed the door to groan open.

Antique cars had always appealed to my curiosity. Even under the pain inflicted by my foster father, the happier times that I remembered were gleaned through the discovery of his old car magazines. I stuck my head inside of the ancient car and smelled the deep aroma of the mohair seat. It was a strange scent, combining the musty odor of age with the actual material itself.

I pulled my head back outside and gently closed the door, slowly making my way back toward the stolen bicycle. I pushed the kickstand up with my foot and slowly guided it back toward the ancient auto, where once again I stood beside the car. Not far from my foot was a strange object no bigger than a small drinking cup, I picked it up and cleaned the soil from its surface. As I cleaned, script letters were again exposed to the light of day. "Ford," I said aloud as I wondered about the object in my hand. My eyes were drawn to the rear of the box-like body, still upon the hub was another cup looking thing, exactly like the one I held. I crouched down and pushed it upon the rusted front hub where the wheel jutted out from the grass, it was clear to me that it was an old hub cap... at least, that's what I imagined it to be.

I stood up slowly, and my reflection was returned in the dirty glass. I once again grasped the pitted chrome handle of the door with my left hand. Wetting a finger inside my mouth, I scrubbed the rear skin panel, just behind the door with my right hand. Under the vigorous scrubbing, I could see the once black paint revealed under the grime of thick dirt. I gently pulled opened the door, leaned inside and pushed down upon the seat, the springs and ancient cloth flexed under my pressure.

I slowly eased myself upon the seat, and sat behind the thick wooden steering wheel, now cracked and weathered by exposure from the sun.

"Man, it's too bad I wasn't a bit older and had a place to restore this old car!"

I sighed, pushing against the clutch, brake and gas pedal in separate intervals, testing their freeness. The tall, old shifter bounced under the touch of my hand, its knob moving back and forth within the normal movement of the ancient transmission.

I dragged my left foot inside from where it had been resting upon the running board, then pulled the door closed. The ancient door groaned as it latched in place. Some part of me felt silly sitting inside the old car, making sputtering noises like some fool child...yet, the sound added an effect of what I imagined the old engine might have sounded as it was driven. At sixteen, I wasn't too far from being a young child myself, and besides... I was alone.

I rocked the steering wheel back and forth in my hands, and looked through the door glass and into one of the two side mirrors... as if I were actually driving. The vibration of my sputtering was creating such a bouncing of my lips that it was making my vision blurry. I laughed and curtailed my sounds, and began to play with the shifter as if I were in an auto race. As I was 'shifting' the car, the large round knob fell from the tall shaft and rolled beneath the seat on the passenger side. I leaned over and reached under the seat, trying to find the ball. My hand came into contact with something that felt like the shifter knob. I pulled out the item and promptly returned it to the shifter, screwing it down as tight as it would go.

Once again I started my sputtering. As I happened to glance out the door, I felt very dizzy, I blinked and clutched the steering wheel, trying to hold myself from falling. As the nauseous feeling continued, a black swirling image spun before my eyes. I buried my face into the palms of my hands, and stayed that way until the image disappeared. Once I felt relatively certain that it was over, I lifted my head.

Before me stood the pear tree, but the windshield I was looking through, was now void of its filth, and remarkably clear! 'What happened?' I whispered.

I sat up and looked through the side glass, and it too was no longer cloudy but rather pristine and clear. I felt for the handle, raising the latch to swing the door aside, it moved as freely as if it were brand new. I stepped out, and turned, closing the door behind me. As it latched shut, I felt my legs go out from under me at the reflection I saw in the shiny black paint.

I caught myself with my hands and touched the reflective door, and I saw a young female's image mirrored where my own should have been!

"What... what happened?" I gasped; my voice was soft and feminine!

The image was wearing a long, straight mid 1920's style dress and looked to be in her early twenty's; her hair was light colored, perhaps blonde, cut short with the ends curled forward in the style of the day. She had large piercing blue eyes, slender arched eyebrows, long eyelashes, a small nose and rather full lips! I was so stunned that I fell onto my bottom and buried my face into gloved hands. Beneath my wrists I could feel the round bosom of this female that I now appeared to have become, she wasn't huge...just pleasantly adequate for her apparent, young age.

A heavy thudding behind me caused me to turn, before my astonished eyes stood a huge horse.

"You okay, lady?" Mounted atop the great beast was a young boy, around the age of twelve or thirteen. "You ain't hurt none?" He asked again.

I stood up and clutched the door to the old car, then let go as soon as my eyes came into contact with the sparkling paint.

"I...I...uh," I stammered and fell, at almost the same instant as the boy lightly dropped to the ground.

He helped me to my feet, brushing the dust from the long dress I was now wearing.

"You okay? I saw you swerving all around when you came by the field. I saw the dust fly when you jumped the ditch, and figured that you might be needing some help!" He gently guided me back to the seat of the car, on the lane behind him walked an older man.

"You almost took out our windmill!" The boy said as he eased me down into the seat.

I looked up into the sun, there stood the windmill, bright red and white blades turned slowly in the breeze. From the top dropped a long pipe, where it came into a cement square with a tall pump handle. Not far away was an old barn where several cows stood silently chewing behind the fence. In a daze I slowly looked around, unsure of whether I had knocked myself out... or was just dreaming.

"She okay, Chet?" The man asked the boy as he approached.

"She be fine, Pa." The youth said smiling, "She must've lost steering in a rut or something."

I could feel the perspiration as it beaded my upper lip and forehead. I pulled a strange glove from my left hand and I ran my fingertips across my mouth. I sat in shock and examined the glove, a glove I hadn't been wearing when I entered the old wreck.

The man placed his hand upon the roof of the old black Ford. "Well, that answers one question," he said. "She must be ill."

The boy looked down at my hand as it rested upon my covered thigh, I glanced down as well. There upon my slender white finger, was a large gleaming diamond, and beside it was a golden band made to match its mate!

"What's your husband's name?" The man asked as he glanced around the auto's interior. "Chet, can drive you home, seeing that you're still rattled from your accident."

"Husband?" I whispered. "I'm...I'm not married."

"Uh oh," whispered the boy to his father. "She must have hit her bean!"

"Looks that way." He frowned, rubbing his chin as he thought. "She has to be the girl that married Edward Burroughs, she'd be about the age of that girl."

I looked up at the man, "Who...who's Edward Burroughs?"

"She must've took one real hard to the bean, Pa! She can't even remember what her husband's name is!"

The man frowned again. "Slide on over, ma'am, Chet here will see that you get home." He grabbed the long mane of the huge horse and swung up upon its bare back. "You think you can figure out how to drive that contraption?" he asked his son.

Chet nodded and quickly walked to the front, cranked it several turns and returned to the seat. One push of the starter and the engine lumbered to life.

"I'll have you home in a jiffy, Mrs. Burroughs."

He backed up from the spot where I had found the car, then he slowly eased it through the ditch and back onto the grassy lane.

All the while the youth drove the old Ford, I sat, stunned at the sudden transformation that befell me! One minute, I was a boy not much older than Chet, then I was suddenly a young woman...and I knew that I had become one; the strange empty feeling between my legs was proof enough! My heart was pounding!

The boy turned onto a gravel road and picked up speed, rolling to who knew where... I surely didn't! On and on he drove until he turned into a drive with short stone pillars on each side. He wound along it, until he stopped just in front of a large two story home.

He jumped out, removing his foot quickly from the clutch, causing the car to suddenly lurch forward and ran around to my side.

"You wait here, I'll see if your mister is around."

Before I could respond, he was gone, bounding up the stairs to the front door. He knocked several times then quickly retraced his steps back to the car.

"He ain't in the house, I'll see if he's in one of the barns."

I swung my feet out and placed them upon the running board step plate, over a script-style writing saying, 'Ford' that was stamped into the chrome.

"Abigail!" I heard someone call, as the boy and another man approached. "Are you alright?"

I found myself nodding, somehow answering to the strange name. I looked at them approaching, and a blank expression on my face met the young man as he quickly knelt beside the automobile. "Are you hurt, Abby?"

"I think she hit her bean." The boy interjected, "She ain't been acting right since I found her."

The man hugged me tightly and looked back at the boy, "What happened?"

"As far as I can figure, she lost control on the lane and jumped the ditch."

He pulled aside the door as the man scooped me into his arms, carrying me up the steps and into the house. "She just missed hitting our windmill and pear tree!"

Down the long hallway he carried me and gently placed me upon the bed, turning to the boy he nodded, "Thanks for seeing my wife safely home. The least I can do is give you a ride back to your place."

"That's okay; I was getting bored working in the field. Your wife gave me a bit of excitement to break up the day!" He smiled down at me, and I found the corner of my mouth pull into a smile as well.

The man... my husband, dug into his pocket and pulled out a silver dollar, "Here then...for your trouble."

The boy backed away, "My pa would tan my hide if I took that from you, Mr. Burroughs!" He continued to back away, "I'll see myself out, sir." Then glancing to me, "Ma'am, I hope you're feeling fine real soon." He flashed a smile at the both of us and quickly headed down the hall and out the front door. I sat up in the bed and could see him hop a wooden fence by the field and race into the swaying grasses as he ran.

The man sat upon the bed and gave me a weak smile, "So... what'd the doctor tell you?"

I swallowed, "Doc... doctor?"

"That's where you were coming from... surely he must have given you some indication?" He had a worried look upon his face as he spoke.

"I... I don't know," I stuttered, my mind racing with wonderment.

He stood up and left the room. He was gone for several minutes, then he returned with water in a washbasin and a clean cloth. He dipped the cloth and squeezed it out, slowly began to dab it upon my face. Its cool comfort helped clear my addled brain.

I felt him working at the buttons on my dress, so quickly did he have them undone that it was open before I could protest. He gently, lovingly dabbed at the cleavage between my breasts. He smiled, and brushed the hair from my eyes, lowered his head and lightly kissed the swell of my breast!

As he assailed my bare chest, I began pushing him away and scrambled to my feet. In an instant I had raced down the hall and outside. Straight to the old Ford I ran. Throwing aside the door, I lunged in and slammed it behind me. As I frantically pressed the starter, I felt a sudden change. Again my head swam with dizziness, I almost blacked out, and finally after several seconds I raised my head. I was once again sitting inside the ancient automobile with its dirty windows!

I sat up quickly, and I noticed that water droplets raced down my neck where my shirt was opened and hanging loose to my side! I grabbed at the handle of the door and threw it aside, staggering through and falling onto the ground just beyond.

It was strange, somehow I had become a girl and found myself being accosted by a man whom I had no idea who he was! I had a good reason to believe that he and I... well, my female self, were married, yet was it possible that any of this could actually happen? Or was it all a dream?

"Surely that was it! It was all just a dream!" I gasped as I rolled onto my backside.

I sat down on the ground, slowly drew my shirt closed, and used my arm to wipe the water from my face and neck. I could still feel his kisses upon my chest; so erotic was the feeling that I still felt the arousal of the moment. I stood up and took a seat upon a fallen log.

"It seemed so real!" I sighed. "Way too real!"

I couldn't help the feeling that I was still reeling from, the experience was so feminine, that it felt like nothing more than a dream, and yet, it was so real that it staggered my mind! I slowly stood and walked back to the car, wondering if I could create the same effect once again.

I sat in the seat and glanced at the old shifter knob. "Was it the knob... or the car?" I wondered, yet I hoped that I would soon find out! With a slight amount of hesitation, I pulled the door shut behind me just as the dizziness returned.

I opened my eyes, I found myself laying upon a bed in complete darkness. I sat up and touched my head. The lightheaded feeling was gone... had I fallen asleep?

I gently let my hands fall upon my chest; the feminine swell had returned... I was once again Abby! I was wearing a light cloth, some type of sleepwear. I scooted to the edge of the bed, and stood.

"Abby, are you okay?" The man asked in a sleepy voice.

I thought quickly. "I have to pee," I said softly, amazed at the gentle sound of my feminine voice.

He nodded and returned his head to his pillow, as I gingerly made my way down the hallway to the front porch. There in the drive was the old Ford, I stepped lightly down the stairs and walked to the side of the gleaming auto. The bright moonlight danced upon its spectacular finish. My reflection in the paint looked like a ghost with the way the soft wind was fluttering the light nightgown around gently.

I touched the cool steel with my slender fingertips, all the while wondering... hoping that this was part of some strange dream. I spied the outhouse not far from the porch and quietly made my way to its shadow. Not wanting to lie to Edward, I went ahead and finished my business, marveling that now I needed to sit to urinate.

Once again, I climbed the steps to the house and quietly reached for the door. As I stood holding to the handle, the moon cast a shadow of me onto the house. My feminine shape was unmistakable. I truly was a woman!

I tiptoed down the hall, returning to the bedroom. Softly snoring was the man whom I was supposed to call, 'husband'. Yet everyone else knew him as Edward. I touched my forehead, wondering if as his wife, should I call him Edward or Ed?

As I stood pondering, he raised his head and pulled back the covers. "I've been waiting for you to come back inside."

I sat on the edge of the bed, as I did, he sat up and touched my shoulder. I could feel him massaging the tension out of my shoulders. Gently he pulled me down with him, his kisses falling upon my neck. His nimble fingers began to work at the drawstring on my collar, loosing it up to allow egress to my chest.

"I found the note from the doctor," he smiled, lightly kissing my chest. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I searched the darkness with bewildered eyes, "What note?"

His kisses forced me into the pillow, "The note that said we are expecting!"

"EXPECTING? A BABY? ME?" I cried loudly, and scrambled for the door, falling over the rug as I raced for the car. Quickly I threw open the door and fell in, crying and panting from my exertion. I leaned out and took hold of the handle, pulling the heavy door closed with a great slam.

***

I felt a flood of fear wash through me as I sat up quickly, once again alone in the old car. Darkness had fallen outside. I pushed the door open and fell upon the ground, and again my shirt was open to my waist! My body tingled with excitement as I struggled to catch my breath.

I gently touched my chest; once again flat with boyish nipples. I let my hand drift down my waist, resting upon my flat stomach. I wondered what it would be like to feel the infant growing inside of my womb, to feel the slight fluttering of the baby as it moved.

Then I shook my head, "How would I know that?" I ran a hand through my hair. "I'm only sixteen! Why am I wondering about things like that?"

For almost an hour I sat quietly and listened to the crickets as they chirped out their song, then near to my ears an insect hummed in the darkness. I again touched my boyish chest, "What would it have been like to suckle an infant upon swollen nipples like a young mother?"

I found myself looking again at the old car, somehow my only link with the young woman called Abigail Burroughs. I thought back at my childhood, constantly being beaten by my foster father, and I wondered, "Could I be a better parent than he was? Would I ever be able to live in peace without worrying and constantly looking over my shoulder?"

Suddenly, being a young wife and mother didn't seem so strange. I stood and took a deep breath, "Could I do it?" I sighed, taking a hesitant step toward the door. "Yes" I said and in one motion I climbed inside, afraid that I might change my mind. As soon as the door closed behind me, I felt the strange tingle. In a brief moment, I felt my knees slowly parting, as if beyond my will... then suddenly, I was there with him.

Edward was lying between my smooth thighs, his stiff penis deeply stroking the feminine crease between my legs! I was panting with each thrust of his hips, then felt the slow tingle building within my own body. My eyes darted back and forth, 'No!' part of my mind cried, while the other half shouted, 'I can't go back!'

I felt his body shudder, for deep within my womb he jettisoned his precious fluid. At that same moment, my vision went black and the air escaped my mouth. I gasped, trying to return air to my lungs, but only a low moan would be heard. It was as if all the stars from the heavens suddenly lit the sky at one great pulsing blast, I felt my body shake and stiffen. It wasn't the transformation I was feeling, but rather, an intense orgasm of my feminine body!

***

Each day that I remained with Edward brought me further and further from the life I had once lived. Now, I was more than some child sputtering inside an ancient automobile. I had somehow become a young bride, and the mother of Edward's child. Eventually I was able to accept what was offered me, as what I once had been didn't matter anymore.

My life had become inexplicably locked in the time of this young family, I was unable to return to when I had lived as a boy, nor did I want to. I was determined to make the best of the hand dealt to me and accepted it as my own.

I gave birth to a boy, Eric, our only child, a child who lost his life in 1944, on a beach in Normandy. I thought my heart had been ripped out from inside when we received word of his death. Yet life marched on, only it was Edward and I, alone well into our golden years.

I sat upon the porch and set aside my sewing. It was just last year, 1985, that my dear Edward lost his fight to cancer, for he had only been 79. How much longer would I remain in this life, how could I without Edward? I played with one of the pearl earrings that Edward had given to me on our fiftieth wedding anniversary. I sighed and stood, slowly walking down the steps and out to one of the many buildings that dotted our old farm. I made my way toward an old corn crib, it took some effort to push aside the great door; there the sunlight hit the tired black paint of the old 1926 Ford that brought me to where I am today. I gently caressed its cool fender. We had come so far from that day in the meadow... yet, I wouldn't have traded it for anything.

I glanced down at the old Ford's hand crank. It had been several months since I had last heard it run, when a friend had come over to try and get me to sell it to him. But I couldn't because it meant too much to me. I touched the crank reverently, my golden anniversary ring glistening and throwing little prisms upon the black fenders. Using all my strength, I worked the crank around one full turn. Waiting until I caught my breath, I again pushed it a full circle. After a third time I hobbled back to the door and squeezed between it and the old barn wall, sliding into the seat of my old friend.

I pushed the starter, and the old car began to spit and sputter, slowly filling the barn with its cloudy exhaust smoke. I gently worked the shifter into gear and rolled it out into the sunlight; the engine popped and knocked with each revolution of the tired, old pistons.

Further out into the road I drove, past the gleaming sedan that Edward and I had purchased over a year ago. Guiding the old Ford down the drive, I headed away from the farm... I knew where I wanted to visit, at least once before I left this earth.

I pulled into the meadow, the very same that I wandered into on a bicycle. Near the old pear tree I stopped and shut off the car, and I slowly opened the old door. Not far from where I stood was the rusting windmill that I had almost hit on that day, long, long ago. I shuffled to the tree and snapped off a pear, scrubbed it against my blouse and took a small bite.

As I gently chewed the pear, I glanced up the lane, toward where I knew lay Gossamer Road... where I once feared the police and hid in the corn. I chuckled to myself as I rolled what was left of the pear into the weeds. Long ago, something had brought me to this spot; was it luck? Destiny perhaps? Fate?

I smiled, so what if I had to spend the majority of my life as Abigail; I would do it again in an instant! Pulling a thin weed that my dear Edward called, Fox-tail... I lightly traced it along my face and closed my eyes, trying to once again remember what his loving touch felt like.

I pulled slightly at one of the gray curls that framed my face, wondering at the strange fate that pulled me back and forth through time, seemingly so long ago. How ironic it was that it all started on this spot, a beautiful meadow that was once a farm. I could imagine seeing the cows as they mulled behind the old farmer's fence. I could still see the face of the boy, Chet, as he drove me to the home I would come to love. I sighed deeply; imagining the fuzzy end of the weed was my Edward's tender caress.

Behind me a strange noise brought my eyes open, I turned and gasped with surprise as a familiar young face came bounding into the lane. He froze in the grass as soon as he spied me standing next to the old car, his eyes quickly searched back down the lane in the other direction. He was so much like me on that day so long ago... I inhaled deeply and took a chance.

"Philip?" I whispered to the shocked youth.

His eyes began to dart about. "H... how do you know my name?" he stuttered.

I felt my heart skip, somehow it was true, and I had returned to meet myself in some strange sort of fractured time loop where we both exist in the same bizarre reality together. Finally it was clear to me why I was drawn to this meadow once again, somehow with me being his past and he being my future...and I was put here to help him...to help me.

I smiled to the boy, "I know quite a bit about you... but, it's okay, I won't harm you, child... I've come to take you home."

The boy stood, a tear slowly rolled down his dirty cheeks. "H... home?" He cried. "I can't go back there...please."

I smiled and slowly walked to his side, "It's okay, Philip, we're going home... but, not back to where you're running from. This time, child, you're going with me to my own home. I'll take care of you. You can live there for as long as you need."

I smiled even more broadly and pulled him into a grand squeeze, and his slender arms slowly snaked up to my shoulders and returned my hug. I could hear him softly crying with relief, a relief that spanned time itself.

***

Many famous scientists view the line of time as a straight plane, beginning and ending with a person's death. For Phillip, his timeline was like a large, overlapping circle, able to meet and touch and then resume out into the great unknown beyond. A timeline without the stringent boundaries known to men, a timeline which could only exist inside the realm of... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.