Time moves over and around and through us all our lives. The river flows forever forwards, sometimes bending, sometimes stretching or contracting, but always moving onwards. We have traced its passage with the turn of the seasons, the movement of the stars and planets, and with machines which keep it locked in hours, minutes and seconds. We are experts in measuring the passage of time, breaking it down into smaller and more easily managed chunks.
But there are those that have subverted the stream of time, dipping in and out of the flow as they so choose, like a fish swimming upriver by leaping up waterfalls. Accounts of these travellers are few and far between. These people who traverse the skein of reality are often strange and detached, removed as they are from the usual cares and concerns of mortals. Such is the fate of those that subvert fate itself, for once you swim upriver, you have to keep swimming or be washed away towards your destiny.
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Deep in the woods beyond the borders of the village, out beyond where even the hunter paths ran out, there stood a hill. The top of this hill, which was wide and flat, was clear of trees and brush so that its grass-covered crown peaked above the forest like the bald head of an elderly man. Around the circumference of the top there ran a wide circle of strange blue stones, standing no taller than the height of a man, their northern sides speckled with moss and lichen.
Very few people ever visited the strange hill in the middle of nowhere. It was said that pixies, goblins and other fey folk danced amongst the stones on a full moon, and that they would kill or kidnap any who disturbed them in their rituals. Other folk claimed that the hill was actually the mighty burial mound of an ancient king of the giants, and that the stones on the peak were the tips of his crown still peeking up through the grass. And there was one more legend of the hill. It was said that once in a lifetime, when the long haired star appeared in the sky, then a tower would appear atop the hill, only to disappear again a week later with the fading of the comet.
Nobody knew where the tower came from or where it went, and only a few old-timers of the village had ever claimed to have seen it themselves. These old-folk's tales were often ignored as so much superstition and exaggeration, after all nobody went that far into the woods, especially at night, and certainly not just to glimpse some mystical tower. But there was one person for whom the legends of the tower rang true, in whose ears the fanciful stories of a mystical disappearing tower found a kernel of truth.
Her name was Doctor Eugenia Fitzherbert and she had come to this lonely little village in the backwaters of the kingdom to find answers. For years she had studied the myths and legends of such events. She had hunted through countless archives and delved into the deepest recesses of libraries hidden in high cold towers, searching for truth. Were these mysterious appearances and disappearances the residue of the mythical Fair Folk of stories and legends? Or maybe ghostly apparitions, echoes of times long gone come back to haunt the present day? Her personal pet theory was that they were visitations by other-wordly or perhaps ethereal beings from beyond the material world, come to visit and study this one. Her compendium detailing the many instances of such mythical appearances had won her high esteem amongst her colleagues.
But one thing had bothered the young doctor. For all her knowledge and learning of these strange disappearing buildings, castles, ships and people, she had never once encountered such an event. She wanted to see such a thing for herself, witness it in person and perhaps, if such a thing were at all possible, meet with and talk with these beings which appeared only once in a blue moon. She found herself fascinated by the accounts of these often beautiful but also bizarre creatures.
There were tales of men appearing in a flash of light riding a metal horseless carriage, and disappearing once more leaving streaks of burning fire in the wheel ruts. Or a single blue box and its variety of inhabitants bringing misfortune and strife wherever it arrived. And even one bizarre story of a large tub of bubbling warm water which came and disappeared without a trace. Eugenia had searched for weeks for a record of a regularly occurring appearance that she could witness herself and after many nights of near-sleepless research she had found one. The legend of the mysterious tower on the hill which arrived with the appearance of the long-haired comet in the skies above.
And so this trip to the hill in the forest was to be her last chance to encounter such an event for herself, she had nearly run out of funding for her post-doctoral research, and it was here or bust. By luck, fortune was with her that night. The once-in-a-lifetime event where the long-haired star appeared in the sky was due to occur in less than two hours. This was why she was hurriedly trudging her way through the woods in the back-end of nowhere, her way lit only by the meagre light of a small lantern on the end of her walking stick.
Thankfully all of the walking she had done during her search over the past few years had kept her fit and healthy, and at twenty eight years old she was still in the prime of life. She wore her old and much-patched robes from the university, a simple blue smock tied around her waist with a length of dark cloth. Her light brown hair was kept back behind her head in a simple ponytail, protected from the elements by the gold-trimmed cloak which she wore over everything else. Her pale green eyes squinted through the gloom from behind an elegant pair of bronze-rimmed spectacles and her thin lips were set in a worried grimace of confusion. Perhaps she had taken a wrong turn somewhere?
Through the pine trees all around her, Eugenia could see the bright twinkling lights of the stars high above. It was a perfect night for stargazing, but thankfully the long-haired star had yet to make its appearance, as she had not reached her destination. But looking up had provided her with her bearing, as off to the west she would make out the low bald shape of the hill, blocking out the starlight through gaps in the trees. Clutching her walking stick more tightly, and fumbling in her backpack for her compass, she set off once more towards the hill.
It took less than an hour for her to finally reach the peak of the low rise, trudging up the low but grass-slick side of the mound to reach the empty crest with its circle of stones. The sky was still empty of long-haired stars, although the moon in its waxing form could be seen clearly above the horizon to the south, and the other stars in the sky blazed like a billion watching eyes.
After taking a moment to catch her breath, Eugenia began to look around. The only thing that her lantern light alighted on immediately was the tall squat form of one of the standing stones at the ridge of the hill. The light of her lantern was more than enough for Eugenia to sit with her back to one of the stones and scribble some preliminary notes in her notebook.
As she worked by the light of her candle, Eugenia failed to notice that high above her, the sky was slowly rent by the single silhouette of a pale silvery scar high above the eastern horizon, blazing silently from north to south across the cosmos. At the same time, a shape began to emerge from the darkness, pale and ghost-like to begin with, but taking on more form with each passing moment.
