Mom, dad, Sebastian and rocio, I hope one day you
Mom, dad, Sebastian and rocio, I hope one day you all can read this. It’s been 33 years since I last saw your faces and felt your presence. We were having dinner at home when suddenly the power went out, everything turned black and all of the sudden, somehow, I ended up traveling thru time.
Mom, dad, rocío my wife and love of my life, Sebastián my brother, fearing that I might never see you all again, I’d like to tell you my story of how that night, everything changed.
When that night of august 2024 in argentina, while we were having dinner, I accidentally traveled thru time and ended up in 1942, I’ve realized that every hour that goes by for you, is one year for me in the past. Today, it’s been 33 years since I last saw you, buy for you it’s only been 33 hours. I fear that if you find this letter, it will mean that I’m gone.
I wish I could tell you what I was like the first 2 years for me here, but I can only tell you the one that shocked me the most. After a year of training in boot camp, I’m about to invaded Europe.
My name is Lorenzo Segovia, 28 years old, and this is my narration in first person of my story of how I accidentally traveled thru time from the year 2024 and ended up in florida 1942, struggled to get back to my reality and ended as a lieutenant I’m the 101st paratrooper about to relive the invasion of Europe. From the beginning of Normandy till the end of the Alpes. I hope this long story one day reaches your hands.
With love, your son.
Rocio, I love you.
The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls of our dining room, the smell of roasted chicken and Mom’s famous flan filling the air. It was a typical August night in Buenos Aires, 2024. Dad was telling one of his hilarious stories, Rocío, her face lit with a smile, was laughing along with him. Sebastian, ever the mischievous one, was trying to convince me to eat an extra helping of flan. Then, in a blink, everything changed.
A sudden, blinding flash of light engulfed the room. It was like a giant, white-hot sun had burst through the ceiling. Then, darkness. A deafening roar filled my ears, the smell of ozone heavy in the air. When I regained my senses, I found myself lying on the cold, damp ground, surrounded by trees. It was dark, the air thick with the smell of pine needles.
A scream ripped through the night, raw and full of terror. I struggled to my feet, my heart hammering in my chest, and stumbled toward the sound. That’s when I saw them – soldiers in worn uniforms, their faces grim, weapons held tight. I froze, my mind reeling. I was lost, somewhere I didn’t belong, the familiar Buenos Aires replaced by this strange, foreign place.
The soldier who spotted me first, his eyes wide with alarm, pointed a rifle at me. “Who are you? Where did you come from?” he yelled, his voice thick with suspicion.
Panic clawed at my throat. I tried to explain, to tell him about the blinding light, the strange noise, about my family back in 2024. But my words, choked by fear, came out as a jumbled mess. The soldier, his face contorted with anger, barked a command, and I was thrown to the ground, my hands bound behind my back.
It was then that I realized this wasn’t just any place; this was 1942, Florida. I had somehow traveled through time, a jump of over 80 years, an impossible reality suddenly my terrifying truth.
The next two years were a blur. I was held captive, interrogated, dismissed as a crazy man. But somewhere within the chaos, I discovered a strange comfort – the company of other lost souls, men who had left behind everything they knew for the call of duty. They were the paratroopers, the men of the 101st Airborne Division, preparing for the invasion of Europe. They were fighting for a future I knew, a future I had to return to, a future that seemed to have vanished from my grasp.
Slowly, I earned their trust, my knowledge of future events, albeit vague, becoming a strange, unsettling currency. I was allowed to join their training, to learn their ways, to understand their fear and their determination. It wasn’t easy, but I became one of them, a soldier in their ranks, a man on a mission.
And now, as we stood on the edge of Normandy, the French coastline stretching before us, I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. This was it. My past, my future, the place where I belonged, all blurred into this single moment, this terrifying, beautiful, impossible reality. The faces of my family, my love for Rocío, the memories of home, they all fueled the burning fire in my heart, a fire of courage and desperation.
This was my story. This was my journey. It was a story of loss, of struggle, of the strange, unyielding bond of brotherhood forged in the heat of war. And perhaps, someday, it would find its way back to the loved ones I had left behind, a whisper in the wind, a message across time, a promise that I was fighting, that I was coming home.
