Halloween Tales

Vagabonds of the Past

In the depths of a hidden, clandestine laboratory shrouded in secrecy and funded by the deep pockets of Jules' father, Ramiro, a real estate tycoon, Rake and Jules toiled away. The pale, eerie glow of the particle accelerator cast surreal shadows on their faces as they worked relentlessly.

"I know I can make this work," Rake told his partner with unwavering determination, his eyes fixed on the intricate machinery.

"I trust you, Rake, but you know how my father is," Jules sighed, her voice heavy with apprehension.

"I know. We're almost done. I will finish this up tonight. You better go get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day," Rake assured her.

"Are you sure?" Jules questioned one more time.

He nodded, his focus unbroken, and Jules reluctantly left, leaving Rake to his intense work. The clock ticked on, and as midnight descended, he remained immersed in his labor. Oblivious to the world outside, he carried on with a single-minded determination.

Finally, as he completed the setup, Rake leaned back in his chair and sighed in relief. Exhausted and on the brink of collapse, he carried his laptop to the colossal machine. The dimly lit laboratory offered him some respite, but his fatigue got the best of him. He leaned against the cold, metallic surface of the machine and closed his eyes.

In that weary moment, sleep enveloped him like a heavy shroud. Unbeknownst to him, his slumber was the catalyst for an impending nightmare. His fingers grazed the touchbar of his laptop, setting in motion the chain of events he never anticipated. A surge of energy pulsed through the machine, illuminating the lab with a blinding flash of light that tore through the very fabric of space and time. Rake was pulled into the abyss.

When his eyes blinked open, they were met not with the sterile laboratory lights but by the harsh glare of the sun. Disoriented and bewildered, he tried to shield his eyes from the unwavering brightness. A hobo clown suddenly leaped into his vision, startling Rake.

"Are you alright, son?" an elderly voice inquired from a group of people nearby.

The hobo clown, known as Frank, extended a hand to help Rake up. Still groggy, Rake struggled to his feet. "What is this place?" he asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Don't you remember how you got here?" Frank asked patiently.

Realization dawned upon Rake, a chilling mixture of joy and fear washing over him. He had succeeded in his experiment, but the return path eluded him. He wasn't meant to be here.

"Frank! Bring him along with us. He doesn't look okay," the elderly voice ordered.

Rake was escorted by Frank and the group, who were miles away from civilization, towards the desolate town of Black Rock. As they embarked on their uphill journey, Rake contemplated his next moves.

Days turned into weeks as they trekked through the unforgiving wilderness, seeking shelter in the kindness of strangers and surviving off the land. Finally, they reached a nearby town, and Rake was grateful for their assistance.

Rake had been transported a hundred years into the past, and his only hope was to somehow communicate with the future. He began working as a journalist for a local newspaper, slowly building influence in the publishing industry. He wrote tirelessly, hoping that someone from the future would recognize his work and come to his aid. In this unfamiliar era, he forged deep connections with the townspeople and even grew close to Frank.

A year passed, and Rake's efforts paid off as he was promoted to cover crime stories for a prominent magazine. His first assignment was to investigate the mysterious disappearances of migrant travelers across Nevada. As Rake delved into the enigmatic cases, a common thread emerged: a tall man dressed as a hobo clown who ingratiated himself with the groups, only to vanish along with the missing children.