Hullo! That chapter took me so long. Especially, after my "self-discovery" trip to Israel. Well, let's see how this goes then. Please review!

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The clearing cuddled in sunlight. I lay in the grass, trying to think of nothing. The beautiful, gentle calm of the forest worked its magic on me once again. God is an artist, I thought. What God? A deep sigh escaped my chest. It's so hard for a Jewish girl to oppose her parents.

Religion never made me feel better. I'm sure it didn't make my mom feel better when she was hit by a car ten years ago. I bet she didn't feel better with God looking over her body, breathless, bloody on the street. No, it was not God who watched her, it was I. I'm sure my dad didn't feel better either. He tried to escape from my mom's death. Dragged me to the synagogue as often as possible. Prayed, prayed, and prayed to be gone with his beloved. It says so on his tombstone.

I reached my hands and let them run through my hair as if trying to tear the memories out. No, I did not want to forget. I would keep them always, as a reminder of what love could do, the way love could kill.

I rolled over a couple times. Stupid evil thoughts! Why won't they just leave me alone? I've learned my lesson. I promise I will not get attached to anyone ever again. "Never," I said aloud and the wind caught my words, weaving them into the trees until all around me the world came into focus on a single word. I lay still. The dead have come for me too many times.

***

The dim light in the corner threw my shadow against the wall across the room. I looked at the clock opposite my bed. Almost eleven at night. I thought I heard the front door open and stood up hopefully. Like a ghost in my white nightgown, I ran downstairs.

"Dad!" I yelled, but only the cat answered me.

He said he'd gone to talk to the rabbi, as he did so many times in the past eight years. I glanced at the clock again. Surely the rabbi would be gone by now. So, where was he? Holding Cleo, my cat, in my arms, I walked over to the phone. The rabbi picked up. He has already gone to sleep but he recalled my dad stopping to talk a couple hours earlier.

"Check the synagogue," he said, yawning into the phone, "He told me he'd pray some more. I didn't lock the doors. Surely he'll be back in a minute. I wouldn't worry."

I didn't say good bye. I rudely hung up on him and dropping the cat, ran up. In a second, my jeans and sweater came on and I ran out into the streets. A tall shadow by the neighbor's house brought my attention.

"Dad?" I whispered hopefully.

"Lily?" Meir stepped into the streetlight.

"Have you seen my dad?"

"No, he was at the synagogue when I left."

"I know that!" I yelled and turning around ran toward the temple.

Soon enough, my best friend caught up to me. He took my hand and helped me get through unto a shortcut through the forest. The temple, as we arrived was all dark except for one window on the second level. We entered and I told Meir to wait for me at the door. I then followed my habit of counting steps up the stairs. 1—2—3—4—5—6—7. I heard shuffling footsteps on the second floor and quickened my pace. 8-9-10-11-12-second flight. Distinctly there came a deep sigh and my father whispered my mom's name. 1- 3-6-9-12

Just as I burst through the heavy wooden door, a stool fell in front of my feet. The boards on the roof moaned and silenced themselves. I saw my father's eyes widen in surprise before turning to opaque glass.

I saw the rabbi taking off the rope next morning. I didn't go to the funeral. I wouldn't be like him. I would not go mad.

***

A shadow hung over me in the declining light. It seemed oblivious to my presence and readily kicked me in the side.

"Hey, watch it!" I yelled with all the feeling appropriate to the situation.

The shadow stopped and considered for a moment, more in surprise than anything else. I got another kick, this time to the foot and the shadow fell flat on me with an "umph." All the air was immediately pushed out of my lungs. I gasped, trying to lift my head and a moustache brushed against my cheek. Unable to speak or scream, I made a violent movement, grabbing the shadow's arms and pushing him, I assumed it was a "him", off me. He yielded and rolled off.

I jumped up. It was, indeed a man. I could not make out his face or his clothes, but it was definitely a man.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out for lack of anything better to say.

"I don't know, should I be doing something?" a soft, beautiful baritone voice replied as the man rubbed his head.

I was very confused. No one knew about the clearing besides me. No one used the road that goes through it. Well, apparently someone did.

"Where am I?" he mumbled looking around incomprehensively.

"A forest clearing?" I wondered at what exactly he meant.

I decided to slowly back away. That guy could've been on drugs for all I knew. How else would he stumble on a deserted path and not know where he is afterwards? He, however, did not display any characteristics of being intoxicated. Instead, he laughed in full recognition of my words.

"A bit broader, please."

"Nottingham."

"Nottingham, Britain?!"

"Yes, Britain. Where did you think you were?"

"I didn't know. That's why I asked. But certainly not in Britain! It can't be! Perhaps somewhere in the New World, but not Britain."

"New World?!" the man seemed alright, perfectly normal, but the manner in which he spoke was so strange that I did not pick up on what he meant. "America?"

"You look young, lad, but shame on you for not knowing such things!"

"Lad?!" I ran up to the man, ready to slap him.

He stood up and his shadowed profile showed against the rising moon. He grabbed my arm and raised his other hand in a threatening gesture.

"Do I have to teach you manners, lad?!

"Let go. I'm not a god damn lad!"

The man looked surprised beyond all boundaries of understanding. In that mere second I snatched my arm out and backed away once more, this time quite ready to run. I stepped into the moonlight and the man gasped.

"Whoa, you're a lass aren't ye?"

"Yes! No. Don't call me a lass! Who says "lass" anyway?"

"Aren't you a bit loud for a street girl?"

"Are you calling me a whore?!"

"Aren't you one? The indecency! Certainly no lady would go outside in such a garment!" the man yelled at me in indignation.

I looked down at myself. Tight blue jeans, tight black top, and a loosely hanging sweatshirt. I must have blushed scarlet but the moonlight hid my face among the silver strands of light. I pulled the sweatshirt over my shoulders to cover up as much as possible, embraced in a sudden flood of shame.

"No, I'm not," I said. "Most people dress like me."

"What kind of a devilish trick is this? What perverted world have I been thrown into?" the man reached his hands for his head. "What year is it?"

My eyes widened. It couldn't be.

"2004."

The man just sat down. He muttered something to himself and stood up again. Totally disregarding my presence, he paced around the clearing. Then, stopping, he turned to me.

"Would you believe if I told you I'm from a different time?"

I considered.

"Maybe," I said, he was certainly acting strange enough for it to be true.

"I come from the year of "our" Lord 1682," he breathed out and I blinked many times before the sound reached me.

"Ok."

"Can you take me out of the forest?"

"Ok."

I was really close to believing that guy. Really really close, but not quite there. "Just lead him out of the forest and you'll never have to see the man again," I told myself and with a hand motion, strolled unto the trail.