So everything was going along just tickety boo (one of the many Canadian phrases that has seeped into my vocabulary after living here for 5 years). I had a great job working at the YMCA with people with special needs and a few hours at a local group home here and there. CeeCee had just finished up her fifth year of university, obtaining a Master's degree in Journalism and a summer internship at a local media company. We were going to spend our last summer in Canada having fun and building up our resume. We planned on moving to New York for a year to work, and then take it from there. Things were good. Even with my good-fate challenged self, my run-ins with bad luck were minor—cutting myself by using the wrong knife and needing 4 stitches, falling into the local pond because I was standing on a loose rock, getting my hair caught in the dryer at the Y—just the small stuff I was used to. I should have known that it was only a matter of time before something big happened.

It started out innocently enough. My trusted advisor from school, Jim, and I had stayed in touch after I had left university for college. He had acted as a reference for me and as a sounding board. So when he called me up and asked if I would be interested in helping his wife out, I said, 'sure', without thinking. That was my first mistake.

My second mistake was not running when I found out what he wanted me to do. Jim's wife, Ally, was in charge of the local pioneer village. You know those places where they reenact the past so you can feel what it was like to live 160 years ago? That stuff was interesting to me at nine. It was not as interesting to me at 23. Especially not when I found out that Ally needed me to be a costumed guide at the village.

Ahh, but guilt is a powerful tool. Five of Ally's guides had gotten better job offers at the last minute and she was desperate. Jim had recommended me and, as my best friend fate would have it, my schedule worked out perfectly. Lucky me.

I had trusted Jim in the past and it had turned out very well for me. How would either of us have known that this would change everything for me?

At least there is a public washroom with real toilets and running water I consoled myself while I tried to put my hair up in a fancy bun like Ally had taught me. I swore like a sailor as it fell out for the fifth time and settled on a hasty French braid as I ran out of the house, decked out in 1840's splendor with a pair of steel-toed boots to accent the outfit. Though I doubt the pioneer women outfitted themselves in black steel-toed army boots, it was the one thing I would not do without.

The boots were not the only fashion item I had gleaned from those I went to school with. My new mainstay of jeans and t-shirts were packed into my bag to change into after work so CeeCee and I could head out to the movies with a few guys from her work. Though our taste in clothes had mellowed and changed considerably since moving to small-town Ontario, we drew the line at wearing socks with sandals as so many people felt compelled to do. For the love of God, if it's too cold for sandals, wear shoes!

My first morning went by in a blur. I repeated my script and bio to anyone who would listen. I spent more time studying my 'history' and my script than I did in all of college! Slowly, the words stopped feeling so awkward on my tongue. I actually found myself smiling while watching the 'pioneer minister' give a talk to a group on how to act proper when in the presence of the opposite sex. Imagine living like that! No hand holding or kissing out in public. And don't get me started on the whole 'no-sex-before-marriage' thing. It all seemed unfathomable.

Lunchtime came quickly. Ally, decked out in smiles and filled with appreciation for helping her out, came to let me know I could take a half an hour break.

'Many people like to head for the hills for lunch,' she laughed, pointing to a grassy area a five minute walk away.

'I think I will,' I responded. Grabbing my bag with my lunch, my MP3 player and my dayplanner, I went towards the area she had pointed out.

How odd, I thought when I looked ahead. It doesn't seem to be that hot out. About 10 feet in front of me, the air shimmered in a mirage-like effect, similar to the sight when you are driving on a stretch of highway during a hot spell. I blinked my eyes a couple of times while approaching the shimmering, yet it didn't disappear. It appeared roundish in shape and the only noise I could hear was from the children running around in the village behind me.

I wonder what….and that was the last thought I had before the blackness pulled me under.