I thought I was born Nov. 17, 1911 in Texas and given the name Woodrow Wilson Smith. But recent events now have me wondering.
I always knew I was somehow different. My childhood, now many centuries past, is a haze. I've fought in the three World Wars, and in a few other world wars. I have used many names over the past 2,800 years or so but the one best known is Lazarus or sometimes the Senior. Though I've been associated with a particular group most of my life, The Howards in timeline LeCroix-Harriman, I was visited recently by an odd old man.
I was facing a mirror, checking the fold, when the reflection began to swirl. "Oh no, not Alice again," I muttered as I reached under my kilt, but an intersting old man appeared in the looking glass ~ and as he stepped out , I stepped back. He said with a chuckle, "Well, I see you've managed to keep some of your hair red. It's about time you found your way home isn't it?"
He pulled out a playing card which appeared to be of a seashore with a golden sun, I commented on its workmanship as it obviously hand drawn. He mumbled a thanks and said "no need to take you home, you'll meet your family soon enough."
As we looked upon the card, I frist noticed the unmistakable smell of seabreeze and the seashore took on odd qualities ~ the waveves began to crash. I've always loved the sea and so when he took my hand and "stepped" into what was the card, I followed. He led me down a path the a stone base where a glowing design wound upon the stone. From the cave behind me a scraping was heard, but looking over his shoulder the old man says "shush!" while all the time the design, glowing of it's own, held my eyes.
"Well, time is wasting. Go ahead, follow the line and once you start, don't stop to tie your shoes." Since I had bootings on, I gathered it would be best to not slow down.
I want bother with the rest, but as I raised my foot to start walking the design, He handed me this playing card and said, "I'll see you when you get there." Well, I guess I'm "there" but he isn't and I'm not sure what's going on right now.
If you see me say, hello. I'm about 6-2 , 275 , a red-with-gray hair and beard. The twins, who I raise as my own, and you see in the card he handed me shouldn't be around much.
I most often ware a kilt and sash. If there's a battle in the offing, a scabbard hangs over-the-shoulder and a fair-sized broadsword in my hand. And ladies, (and gents), let's not wonder about what's really under a Scottish kilt, eh?
Wonder why the old guy kidded me about my red hair?