Young Writers Society

Amrie reached to the home the other people stood by, but the shout startled her enough to lose her footing and trip. This forsaken sand! At least she was always used to the texture of ground around her house, but not near the water! Or whatever this Florida place really was.

She rubbed at her wet eyes, the tears coming from embarrassing herself and not really being in pain, but Amrie felt like a complete idiot. This was the first time in quite a few years that she was truly on her own. Moving behind everyone else, she watched them to see what they would do next, as she was clueless.

Michael stepped out onto the grand porch lined with benches and columns. It was a staple of this new south to place plantation style homes on the waterways of the coast. They could see the confusion in the eyes of the guests as they all looked up at the house and their mysterious host.

They sat their hat down on the nearest bench, limping down the stairs and immediately regretting not using their cane. One of the party guests had greeted them with a timid “hi”, to which Michael answered, “Hello my dear young lad. I’m not sure how the invitation found you but by your composition of skin and bones...well I’m sure you’ll enjoy our little shindig.”

They stepped past the other folks, including the one with a fake British accent and a vocabulary of German, to help the young lady out of her place in the sand. Offering out a hand they asked, “What is your name, my dear?” And they quickly turned to the rest of the group to say, “I only know who some of you are because magical invitations have a mind of their own. But for the young lady with a German vocabulary, please know that I am still know as a captain in the United States Calvary. I might not be fluent but soldiers have the tendency to learn swear words.”

A blush immediately appeared on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she said, remembering to use the British accent this time. She ducked her head down in shame. She hadn't wanted to swear. Alexander didn't swear. But the word had slipped out, anyways - it was a word she had heard Adam say a very long time ago. And he had said it enough that she had picked it up, too, even though she tried her very best not to use it.

Then she froze.

"You were a soldier?" she whispered, looking up at the newcomer with wide, horrified eyes. Alexander had said it was really important to not sound German after the war. Her accent was okay when she was around him, but not around the customers in his shop. Because there had been a lot of death in that war, and the Germans were part of the reason.

And she had just said something in German in front of a soldier.

Bobby's eyes flicked back and forth between the two in the exchange, looking ready to bolt.

He didn't not like soldiers - a lot of the time, they were some of the nicest people on the streets - but he didn't trust rich people. And the only thing Bobby could tell for sure right now was that this person looked really, really rich.

Still...there was food inside.

He bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the ground, trying to be as content as he could waiting to be invited in while hunger gnawed at his insides.

Karen's eyes drifted as they approached the house.

It was nice, once of the nicest houses she'd ever been to, and she could only imagine what it was like on the inside. Champagne. Handsome men to talk to. Music to dance the night away.

She liked soldiers. Men always looked the nicest in uniform. And besides, with all the murmurs that the US was about to go to war, there might be a lot more of them soon.

"Well?" she said. "Are we just going to stand out here?"

Irene thought for a moment. Her question was kind of a rhetorical one, even though it was very serious, so she was okay with completely ignoring that she had asked it for the sake of answering the pretty lady's question.

"Yes!" Irene answered, taking another step back. There was a soldier and a bunch of adults. Both of those were bad things according to Alexander, especially when he wasn't there to help her out.

Bartway was dancing around the sand while they thought of the answers to those particular questions. Everything in their head was a bit hectic just thinking about the matters that brought everyone to this place in time. And the guests seemed to be just as confused as they were.

"To answer the question about my past life, yes I was I was soldier. Towards the end of the war I was shot off my horse, living me with the limp that you see today, but I didn't lie down on the job. Once I rolled out of the mud and scrambled for my rifle, I managed to shoot the squadron across from me that was trying to kill my horse."

Their limp was becoming more noticeable as they planted themself in front of the other questioner. With a sarcastic touch to their thick southern draw they said, "I would much prefer if we all headed inside before the humidity hurts my knees anymore. But if y'all would prefer to stand in the sand...well that's alright by me."

Irene didn't want to be rude, but she was still really nervous about following anyone inside. Without Alexander here, she'd never be able to act the way she was supposed to! She bit her lip and looked around nervously. Maybe someone would do something that she could follow the lead of. That was a good idea, right-

There was a man standing in the sand, looking very confused and very familiar. Irene always forgot what Alexander was supposed to look like as Alexander, but she knew his blue eyes anywhere! And his soul, too, but mainly his eyes.

She darted over to him and threw her arms around his neck.

"Alexander!" she exclaimed. "You're here!"

Some of the confusion faded, but he still seemed like he didn't really know what was going on. "Hello..."

"Irene!" she informed him. "Irene Adler Baines!"

He gave that smile he always gave around her, like he really got a kick out of what she was saying - even though she couldn't really see why. She was just being herself. "I see. Do you know what's going on, Irene?"

She thought for a moment.

"I think there's a party," she said, "and you were invited. I know I'm not supposed to, but I really wanted to check the mail! So I did. And I found a fancy invitation that I think was meant for you, but it got me here."

She grinned.

"And now you're here, too!"

Alexander gave a slow nod. He was looking a bit troubled - maybe he didn't want a party. They had never really had one before. Irene mulled over her options for a moment before perking up.

"I was worried about going inside without you," she said, "but you're here now! So it's okay to. And even if you've never been to a party before, we can figure it out! I've read a lot of books, and you're always going all over the place. So we know a lot together!"

The troubled look faded, and Alexander rubbed the top of her head. "Okay, my little soldier," he said, his tone soft and gentle. "Lead the way."

Grinning, Irene grabbed onto his wrist and brought him over to the rest of the group. "I'm alright with going inside now!" she announced. "Alexander's here, so it's alright."

Amelie smiled lightly after the presumed home owner helped her out of the sand. They had asked their question, but then spun around and started to speak to the other people gathered.

“Amrie,” she whispered, wanting to give an answer even if they couldn’t hear her anymore.

Although she still wasn’t quite sure what was going on here, with the one girl speaking German, and then the person in front of them being a solider ... wait. Could they be a soldier from one of the World Wars, which was decades in the past?

She knew she never should have opened that letter.

Bobby looked up when the host - or, he thought they were the host - suggested they go inside. He wasn't paying attention to the hyper girl until she suddenly appeared with another person.

Bobby eyed the newcomer warily and shifted toward the door.

He didn't want to go in first, but he also didn't want to stay outside.

Everyone was too close, and even though no one was looking at him, Bobby could feel eyes on his back.

He wanted to get somewhere else, away from these people. Somewhere not so bright.

With all of that stirring inside him, he kept quiet, his fidgeting hands and shifting gaze betraying his nerves.