Join Date: May 2005
The first Thanksgiving holiday traces back to a 1621 celebration at the Plymouth Plantation, where the settlers held a harvest feast after a successful growing season. Autumn or early winter feasts continued sporadically in later years.
Squanto, a Patuxet Native American who resided with the Wampanoag tribe, taught the Pilgrims how to catch eel and grow corn and served as an interpreter for them. Squanto had learned the English language during his enslavement in England. The Wampanoag leader Massasoit had given food to the colonists during the first winter when supplies brought from England were insufficient. If it hadn't been for the these Indians there may have never been a Thanksgiving and who knows, would it have destroyed America as we know it? Perhaps, perhaps not, but one dark sinister hooded figure would test that theory.
During a warm day in the spring of 1621 Squanto was out fishing alone. He had just finished teaching some Pilgrims how the Indians catch their fish just a few hours earlier. Squanto stood up beside the creek he had been fishing at for the last hour and breathed in the fresh air. He thought back to the six times he had crossed the Atlantic Ocean with colonists to London and back. Once he was a slave, captured by Captain George Weymouth, now he would be a hero to the Pilgrims, but he likely did not know the full weight of his actions on history.
Suddenly, Squanto felt a presence behind him. He quickly turned in an instant only to see nothing but thin air and feel an unusually warm breeze from out of nowhere. His ears suddenly popped as if he had just been riding up into a high mountain. He felt static electricity up and down his arms and legs. Squanto had never observed such unusual occurrences in nature before, but that was just the beginning of the strangeness. Squanto's attention was drawn to the skies as he saw what looked to him like a flaming chariot as it burst through the early evening sky. What was this? Could it be something from the heavens themselves? The white men had spoken of such miraculous events from their holy book the Bible, but could this really be a sign from the white man's God or something else entirely?
Squanto ran toward this flaming wagon from the sky, but just behind him, that same instant a hole opened in the fabric of time and space. Light of the day was bent and pulled toward the opening like a mini black hole and then it spat out a darkly clad masked figure named Bastian Wolfe creating a whooshing sound of air. Squanto stopped in his tracks and turned quickly to face the Nazi from the future.
"What are you?" Squanto asked.
"I am here to kill you, my savage friend and Thanksgiving," said the villain.
"What is Thanksgiving?"
"It doesn't matter," said Bastian as he slowly raised his pistol to fire at Squanto's head.
Bastian slowly began to squeeze the trigger as he took his time guaranteeing that he would not miss, when at the last micro-second before the bullet was fired from the villain's chamber, a masked man leaped down upon the Nazi, like an eagle from above. The masked white man had fallen from the flying wagon which was now hovering above. This masked man began pummeling the evil one, but Bastian fought back like a cornered mountain lion. Squanto watched as the fight continued for what seemed like an eternity until the hood was ripped off the face of Bastian revealing what surely must have been a devil. In fact, it was the scarred remains of a face altered by time travel, but, of course, that was a foreign concept to an Indian from the 1600's.
Bastian threw down some sort of round sphere to the ground and black smoke exploded into a huge ball covering several feet of space. This too seemed to be the work of some kind of devil to Squanto. After the smoke cleared, Bastian was gone leaving only the masked man behind.
The masked white man turned toward Squanto and smiled.
"Keep up the good work Squanto, and have a happy Thanksgiving, whenever it comes this year."
"I will kemosabe," said the Indian while the masked man seemed to call for his wagon from the sky to the ground the way a man would call his horse. The flying wagon shot through the sky and disappeared leaving one question on the Indian's mind.
"Who was that masked man?"
In another timeline, another world, Agent Martin battled evil to save history. Read his adventures in the Time Cruisers series with the latest book, The Man from Nowhere