The cold floor beneath my bare feet. Wind wipping my hair. The salty smell filling my nose. No one thought it possible. But here I am. They said it couldn't be done. Or, if it could, it would destroy the world. But here it is. I did it. I did it AND I'm still alive. I have accomplished time travel.
Although, it's not a total success. I don't know where I am. I mean, I know I'm by the ocean... I can see that. But what ocean? In what part of the world? Does anyone live around here? How long until I travel back? Should I stay here or move on? Why didn't I remember shoes this morning?
All these thoughts run through my head. None of them have an answer. I take a deep breath and decide I should answer some. I should sit down and wait. I left my shoes because I was in a hurry. People must live somewhere nearby because there's a lighthouse here. I will travel back within the day... I hope... I better. Being stuck in 1972 is not what I call fun. I call it boring. Unless there was a war. Oh, how I wished I had paid attention in all those history classes. But no, I had insisted on doodling Ryan Blakeman's name in my notebook every period. Wonderful. And knowing my luck I'll die here and he'll never know how I felt. Or worse, mom will find my history book and see all the doodles... maybe dying isn't so bad.

With nothing else to do I drag my toes in the dirt, making a pattern. I sit back, admiring my work, only to have it ruined by the leaves in the wind. They leave little spots in the sand where they fell, all over my drawing. I cover it with sand and start over. I draw stars, hearts, flowers, and animals.

I'm so bored. Soon after, my fingertips start to feel fuzzy. My vision flutters and I feel as though I'm falling. Falling and will never land. But then I do. I hit hard ground and stumble back. My bottom hurts from where I landed on it.

"Anya", my uncle says. He has a very serious look on his face.
"Yes uncle Robert?" I ask.
His face breaks into a grin. "We've done it!"