The Haunted Room A TWILIGHT ZONE story
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Gettysburg - A TWILIGHT ZONE Story free porn video
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
Gettysburg - A TWILIGHT ZONE story
By Anon Allsop
Eric Van Vleet wanted nothing more than to learn all he
could about the Civil War, the society could help
experience the sights and sounds of battle as they played
out their reenactment in a quiet room, but Eric wanted
more. He made an offhanded wish to an old man that was
about to change a young teen's life forever. Eric is about
to find out what happens when you become another little
pawn, in a Chess game known as... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.
The Icy Pennsylvania wind blew snow across the sidewalk,
creating little swirls that raced before Eric's legs as he
trudged through the white blanket of snow. In his young
hands were several thick books that contained all the
information he would need to reenact the horrific 'Battle
of Gettysburg' in the basement of the community center.
Once a week, the society would meet at the community
building in room 314 and play out a different battle, using
research and the vast knowledge the participants would
bring to the game. Over time, they had created tiny pewter
figures in the likeness' of each combatant of those great
armies to use for their games, many common action figures
were reused over and over, only the officers were set aside
for specific battles. This week it would be the 'Battle of
Gettysburg', one of the bloodiest battles during the entire
Civil War. Most of the society were older gentlemen,
retired history professors or war buffs. However, probably
one of the most clever and brightest in the society was
Eric Van Vleet.
At 17, he had surpassed his society's best reenactors and
carved a niche as one of the greatest Civil War minds the
little group had ever seen. He could break down a battle
into hours and sometimes minutes, telling you where each
unit was positioned on the great board with its miniature
rolling hills, trees and buildings. He was so good that at
times he could recite the names of each soldier within a
particular unit.
Through the double doors of the Community Building Eric
dashed, balancing the books in his arms he made his way to
the great room. The coveted room had been set aside for
almost three years by the community for the sole purpose of
the society. Many times they would be on hand for informal
tours by the local schools or passerby that found their
meetings interesting. Once inside the room he was met by
familiar faces, slowly he made his way to their reference
table where he could place his books.
"Ah, there he is now - Eric Mayflower, boy genius." One old
man kidded and patted the boy on the back. A few of them
chuckled as Eric hung his coat on the back of a chair.
Another looked up from the table where he was putting the
last touches on the rolling landscape that was to be their
great battlefield. "You ready Eric?"
"I got them all right here." He said patting the pile of
books he had just laid on the table. "How about you?" He
said as he studied the topography of their 'Gettysburg'
board.
"Almost done, just need to add a few more trees along that
hill line and it'll be ready." An old man spoke as he
continued to push tiny 'trees' into the soft clay that made
up their hill.
After a few silent minutes the old man raised himself up
and smiled, "Okay boys, bring forth the armies." He spoke
with an exaggerated flair, raising his hands triumphantly
in the air.
Eric smiled and took a cardboard box from one of the
others, he held up a piece, examining the tiny pewter
figurine. "Well, General Stewart, you are here at last."
The old professor rose up and gave Eric a wry smile.
"July 2, 1863." The professor spoke as he pushed his little
round glasses further up his nose, "That was a quote from
General Lee to General J.E.B. Stewart after he went off
raiding the nearby countryside."
Eric pointed and nodded, "Lee wasn't a happy man right
about then." He positioned the piece on the board near
Seminary Ridge.
A tall man in his early 60's shook his head, "Eric, you
need to get a life." A few of the other society members
laughed, "Shouldn't you be off somewhere trying to make a
move on your girl?"
The professor laughed, "Now what use would a girl have to
our Eric?" He elbowed another in the side as the group
continued to position the individual pieces of the battle.
The laughter was silenced by a knock on the door, every eye
raised to see a thin and bent man leaning against a cane in
the open doorway. "Is it okay to come inside and watch?" He
asked, studying each face looking in his direction.
The old professor moved around the large table and pulled
out a chair for the stooped old man. Eric looked at his
clothes and decided that it was just another homeless
person coming inside from the cold, it had happened before,
the society didn't mind. The man slowly pulled his jacket
from his shoulders and dropped it into an empty chair, then
took his seat to watch the society members set up the
battle's figurines.
Just as the group was putting the finishing touches on the
huge field, the old man tapped Eric on the elbow and
pointed to a hill to the young man's left. "Which group is
in that wooded area over there?"
Eric glanced into the direction indicated, "The Twentieth
Maine is over there, why do you ask?"
The old man stared into the tiny woods, "That's where
Chamberlain was..." He slowly rose and moved toward the
table.
Eric's interest in the old man was piqued, "That's right,
apparently you know more about this battle than we
assumed?"
The little man laughed and patted Eric on the arm, "I
should - I was there." Eric's eyes suddenly darted to the
others surrounding the battlefield.
A slow grin snaked across the professor's face, as the old
man suddenly burst into laughter. "Actually young man, my
Grandfather was a drummer boy in that battle, he had been
assigned to the Twentieth Maine." He bent slightly and
pointed to a place on his lower leg, "He was shot right
about here, almost bled to death right on that field, near
those trees."
Eric was in awe, he had never actually spoken to anyone who
had known a combatant which personally fought during the
war. He wanted more from the old man, and decided that all
through the evening he would slowly draw the information
out. It didn't matter to Eric, that the old man's
Grandfather had been a lowly drummer, it was the chance of
undocumented information, regarding one of the most
glorious moments in military history... and here was a vast
store of untapped knowledge.
The professor kept eyeing the older man, "Do I know you? I
have this strange feeling that I should know your name."
The little man laughed, "Perhaps, but back when you knew
me, you were no older than this young lad here." He
indicated Eric with a nod. Then he glanced around the
battlefield and smiled, "Back in 61... there were others
like you."
A jokester laughed, "1961... or 1861?" Others chuckled at
his comment.
The professor slowly widened his eyes, "Gentlemen, this is
one of the society's charter members, Albert Welch. I knew
I'd remember if I thought about it hard enough. He was the
man responsible, for creating all of these little figurines
here on our battlefield!" He offered his hand to the old
man who promptly shook it.
Eric was drawn further into awe as even more was revealed,
he knew now that he must glean every possible shred of
information from this stranger. The man carefully took a
figure from the board, "Marcus Weatherby." He said almost
in a whisper.
Eric frowned; he couldn't recollect any person by that name
in that particular regiment. But of course, he had been
wrong before... once, maybe twice. He watched the old man
sat the figure back down in position and slowly walk around
the table, by the little town he picked up another. His old
eyes filled with tears and he slowly lowered the figure to
the table, at another spot he picked up a fallen solder,
his uniform painted a rich blue.
"This was my brother." He again lowered it gently to the
table, almost reverently.
Eric raised his eyebrows and looked quickly toward the
professor, who also possessed a surprised expression on his
face. The young man decided that this old gentleman was
most likely an escapee from a nearby nursing home. What had
once been a brilliant mind was now riddled with holes like
a brick of Swiss cheese, it was sad... so sad. The old man
looked back up toward the serious faces surrounding the
table and smiled, laughing aloud.
"Gottcha!" He pointed his finger around the room.
The old professor eyed Albert, who was laughing, "You had
us there, we weren't sure if we should humor you or call
for a doctor."
The room broke out into laughter as Albert glanced around
the table and saw that the others had all their pieces in
place for the first day of the battle, then he walked
around the back of the table where he took up a position
behind us all.
He got a serene look on his wrinkled face as we knew he was
about to say something. We waited, giving him the respect
he deserved as an elderly man and charter member.
"If you could be anywhere on that battlefield, where would
it be?" He swept his arm across the table and asked the
entire room.
We all thought about it, some shrugged, others offered
their opinions, and Eric was no different. "I'd want to be
right in the thick of it." He spoke boldly, showing his
bravado.
The professor laughed at his youthful outburst, "You would
have been killed right along with many, many others."
"That's true, what the professor said, I've seen what war
can do." One older man spoke knowingly.
"He's right, I was in Nam for two tours. War isn't anywhere
as glamorous as you may think." He held his hand up, three
fingers were missing. "That's what being a prisoner got
me... don't tell them what they want, they cut one off and
move to the next. Pretty soon you'll be spilling your guts
and telling anything that they want to hear, even if you
have to make it all up."
Eric frowned, "Well, okay then, I wouldn't want to be right
in the middle, but I'd still want to be there."
The thin man chuckled, "Sure, you'd want to be off on the
side watching with the civilians, along that back ridge by
the edge of town. Near the fence."
"But close enough to see the action." Eric added as he
scrutinized the position of his Generals.
The elderly man shrugged, "That wasn't always the safest
place to be either, but still, you would have had a great
view of the action."
One short round man added, "If you were that close, they
would have probably pulled you in to help with the wounded
and the dead." The others nodded.
The professor looked at Eric, "The sights that those people
would have seen... truly horrific."
"I wouldn't care. Just to be that close to one of the most
famous battles in American Military History would be worth
it." Eric leaned across and moved a Captain and his men
closer to the woods.
"You'd be alone then." One of the more youthful members
said, if youthful meant around 58.
They continued on throughout the evening, discussing their
movements upon the field of battle and why each move was
made. After close to four hours had passed, they slowly,
one by one began to filter away to their modern lives. Only
two remained, the thin, frail man and Eric.
The man stood with the aid of his cane and began to push
his thin arm into the sleeve of his coat. "Was that really
true what you said?"
"About what?" Eric asked as he also put his coat on.
"About wishing to be there during the battle." The man
leaned against the board, then momentarily checked to see
if his weight had crushed any of the clay that was used to
sculpt the hill.
Eric thought about what he had said for a moment, "Sure,
why not. Yeah, I'd love to have been there and watched
history in the making."
The old man smiled and reached for his pocket,
"Congratulations son, your wish has been granted." He
slowly pushed a white card into Eric's hand.
Eric looked down at the card, "Make a Wish?" Was all that
was written on the card, he slowly turned it over in his
hands.
Suddenly a loud boom sounded forth, Eric glanced up to see
a plume of smoke and dirt spiral toward the sky. His eyes
grew wide as almost twenty gray clad soldiers fell in a
heap not 500 yards from where he was standing. The others
that were left raced into almost certain doom. Slowly, the
card that had been in his hand spun toward the ground. Eric
watched in horror as two armies collided before his very
eyes, bayonets brandished in rage and war.
One blue clad regiment swung nearby and wheeled toward
where Eric stood, the solders running back and forth
carrying their dead and dying. A blast rocked the ground,
sending Eric staggering under its percussion. Standing in
shock, he watched a man nearly be torn from the force of
the blast. An officer rode past brandishing his saber,
trying to spur his men on. Slowly his regiment regained
composure and began to move back toward the main battle.
The dashing young officer wheeled his horse back to where
Eric was standing, "You there, don't just stand there
watching my boys die... get your ass over there and see if
you can help!"
Eric was shocked as he stood, unsure on exactly what to do.
"Damn it! Come on and help these kids out!" The officer
again shouted, he jumped down from his horse and quickly
sheathed his saber. His movements were not angry but rather
demanding.
He was soon beside Eric in only three paces, his large hand
gripping Eric's arm just above his elbow. "For Christ's
sake girl, help these boys out!"
He spun the youth around and gave him a shove toward a boy
not much older than Eric that lay pleading for help. Eric
fell across the prone boy, catching himself only by
throwing out his hands. As he sat up he looked down at the
open wound on the youth's chest, Eric's eyes opened wider
and wider. A scream began to form upon his lips, it wasn't
from the sight of bloody bodies that had Eric's attention
anymore, it was from the sight of two very prominent
breasts that pushed out upon the flowery dress that he had
on. It was at that moment that Eric realized that the young
officer referred to him as 'girl'. He spun looking for the
officer, he was crouching next to another man bleeding from
his shoulder.
Eric ran, fell and rolled next to him. "You...I..."
The officer looked at the beautiful girl before him, the
dress she was wearing now covered in the blood of the poor
young dead solder, she appeared beside herself with shock.
The battle was more than the poor girl could take; he drew
her in and gave her a slight hug.
"It'll be okay dear; you must pull yourself together for
them. They need your help." He studied her features
closely, noticing that she was still unmarried and guessed
that she could be no more than 16, perhaps 17 years old.
The officer thought back to another day, so long ago when
he last had a young girl this close. They had been lying in
the loft of his father's barn, how he would love to be able
to take this lovely young creature to that loft. He smiled
quickly, thinking of how he would make her a woman. But
first and foremost, his thoughts were drawn back to his
wounded men.
"What's your name child?"
The beautiful blonde tried to pull the wildly blowing hair
from her tear streaked face, "It's... oh God... I..." She
looked all around herself and then down to her hands and
chest, the blood covering them both. "I'm... Eric..." Her
voice spoke with an eastern accent, again she pulled at her
hair wildly blowing in the warm dusty breeze.
"Okay Erica, you need to put your finger in this hole to
stop his bleeding, I'll run and get a doctor." He didn't
wait for an answer, he pushed her slender finger into the
solders wound and raced back toward a wagon.
Eric watched the officer race away, tears still streaming
down her dirty cheeks. She looked into the eyes of the
soldier he was watching her closely, "You shouldn't be out
here like this!" He scolded, "You should be off somewhere
making little babies!" He slowly smiled and glanced at her
protruding chest, "But, if a feller's gotta be anywhere...
being right here ain't so bad."
Eric raised his face toward the sky and screamed, his voice
shrill and wailing as tears began to cascade down his rosy
cheeks only to drop against soft, pert breasts. He had
become just another little pawn in the great battle of
life.
***
The old man smiled wryly and picked the pewter figurine of
a kneeling girl from the floor, slowly and gently he placed
it on the table next to the prone figure of a fallen
soldier. "Well son, you got your wish." He glanced across
the table and moved another piece closer to that of the
kneeling beauty, "Erica Van Vleet, I'd like to introduce
you to your future husband... Captain Horace Anderson."
With a soft chuckle he released his hold on the Captain's
figurine, and stepped toward the doorway. He glanced back
at the table, again chuckling to himself... and slowly
turned out the light.
***
Erica's choice had been decided for her, forever to be
included as one of the many Chess pieces of an ever
expanding battle, just another among the thousands of
little pewter figurines which graced the huge table of room
314. Her life would forever be written and sealed among the
annuals of Civil War history, broken down into a few minor
paragraphs in a great book called... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.
The End
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