Subj: Grammar Story -- 12
Date: 7/9/00 8:55:13 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Beverly LaCroix

Jeremiah knew he had to go to the docks first to find out when a ship would be leaving before he could do anything. He guided his horse toward the village, grateful the rain had stopped for now. He began to ride harder now, he needed to hurry. It was as if a voice were whispering in his ear time was of the essence. He saw the village up ahead, and slowed the horse to a trot. He kept riding for what seemed like hours to him, and never reaching his destination. Something was wrong, and quite out of the ordinary. He stopped the horse, and stepped down to survery his surroundings, and nothing appeared to be familiar. Where was he? "How did I get here?" he said softly to himself, "whereever I am," he finished.

The figure of a man was approaching him, and he was wearing odd clothing. Jeremiah decided not to say anything, just wait and see, he thought.

"Who are you, and why are you on Collins property?" the stranger demanded.

"Well, sir, I could be asking you the same." Jeremiah shot back. He tensed, the man had pulled a gun. Who was he? The man held a lattern out so he could see who he thought the trespasser was, and allowed Jeremiah to get a better view of the intruder. He was tall, had sideburns, wore a long coat, as opposed to the one he was wearing.

"I'll ask you again, who you are, but I won't ask again." the stranger said. Jeremiah knew he was deadly serious, and said, "I'm Jeremiah Collins," and stopped, the man looked as if he were in shock. "Did I say something wrong?" Jeremiah said.

"It's not possible." the stranger said.

"I've told you who I am, and you appear to know me. And if you do, you know you, sir, are the trespassor. I would advise you to put away your weapon, and tell me who you are, and what you're doing here?" Jeremiah
said coldly.

"I am Quentin Collins. And I know you can't be Jeremiah Collins. Jeremiah Collins is dead," Quentin said, cocking the hammer on the pistol.