From the Gods’ Hollow journal of Duncan Blood.
April 26, 1930.
Behind a copse of trees, the valley stretched for the entirety of Gods’ Hollow. It was filled with the wreckage of war. Shattered trenches and destroyed machinery. Upturned earth and trees transformed into slivers. Barbed wire and artillery pieces, planes and tanks, all from the Great War, littered the valley floor.
I picked my way carefully through the destruction until the sight of a corpse caught my attention. The body was the only one I had seen in the Valley, and it is one which piqued my curiosity. Upon his remains was a cross.
While I hold no truck with religion, I recognized the piece of jewelry and felt a strange sense of foreboding swell around me. With my heart beating a little quicker, I sat down near the corpse and picked up the cross. On the back of it, there was an inscription: To My Father’s Arms I Have Been Called.
I returned the cross to its position and considered it. Once, in 1913, the cross had belonged to Meredith Coffin. She had given it away in the hopes that it might offer some sort of protection.
In my world, I suppose it had. I had carried the cross with me throughout the war and gave it back to her once I returned to Cross.
In this valley, far from the battlefields of Europe and the curious nuances of my own reality, one of my alternates lay dead.
Dead and forgotten, as we all must be in the end.
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