The early morning was calm and quiet.  The leaves lightly rustled behind in the wind as Nathan Baker drove his ’88 Ford F150 up the road for a hard day’s work.  The sun started to peak over the dim horizon.  Frost was starting to form on his windshield, so he turned the heat on in the truck.  He tuned the radio to the morning news.  The broadcaster announced that today was the 200th anniversary of Howard Ford killing fifty people in the long forgotten town of Aldlake.

I put on my blinker as I made a right turn onto Oldston Road.  I grabbed my clam hoe and roller, opened my door, and hopped down from my truck.  I breathed in the saltwater with a big smile on my face.  Man, I sure do love this smell.  Maybe that’s why I like clamming so much.  Being out on the mud flats, smelling that saltwater all day long.  It might as well be heaven to me.

I shut the door to my truck and made my way down to the shore.  The tide was perfect, it has just gone out.  The morning sun had started to glisten onto the light blue water.  The mud wasn’t too hard, mostly soft, the perfect condition for clamming.  I made my way over to my spot for the time and set my roller down.  I bent down and dug my hoe into the fresh mud, marking it with four holes, and continuing to press down and pulling it back to reveal several clams.

The sun was starting to move high in the sky, but before it could, dark clouds rolled in, covering its brightness.  Dark, thick fog crept over the water, engulfing anything visible.  Nathan didn’t have the chance to gather his things up before there was a break in the fog.  It was like the fog was breaking away, creating a passage for him to enter.  Before his very eyes a small little village was set before him.  Men walked around doing various jobs, loud noises filled the air.  The metal clink of a hammer smashed onto a nail.  Children’s voices rang out, laughing and giggling.  A school bell’s ring resonated throughout the quant town. To the left, a town sign read “Aldlake, Est. 1804” in fancy lettering.

My hoe made a thud as it fell to the dirt.  My mind was racing, my heart pounding.  My eyes wandered back and forth between everything happening.  I stood still, mouth agape.  What is going on?  A minute ago I was digging clams, now I’m back in time?  A man with a black hat and a suit walked by me.

“Hey, mister, what is the date?” I asked.

“My boy, the year is 1814, and it’s the 9th day of July.  It’s also the day of the trial,” he replied kindly.  “Wait a second.  I know you.  Why are you out of jail?!  Dave!  Dave, get over here!  Howard’s managed to escape his cell!”

“Mister, I, I ain’t no Howard.  My, my name is Nathan.  Nathan B-Baker, sir.  I’m not supposed to be in jail.  I’m supposed to be digging clams, but that there fog rolled in and I’m back in time,” I struggled to get out.
“Now he’s gone insane now for sure!  Let’s get him back where he belongs, boys!”  Three men hustled over and grabbed ahold of me.  I struggled to get out, but their grip on me was tight.

“Now fellas, I’m not one for trouble but you’ve got me mistaken.  I’m Nathan Baker, not some Howard.  I’m not from here.  I’m from the future.  I was digging my clams and then I well, I ended up here.  You’ve got me mistaken.  You’ve got the wrong man.”

Just as I got the word man out of my mouth, the fog started to disappear.  I could feel the mud under my feet.  I walked over to my hoe.  I could see the ocean and the land.  I was back home.  Did I fall down and get hurt?  Maybe I should head home before I imagine more things.  I figured that since I’m all the way out here, I might as well finish my digging and then head home.

The sun was getting lower and lower in the sky.  Sweat was beading on Nathan’s forehead.  Just as he went to look up and wipe it off with his hand, he could see the fog start to roll in.  Before he knew it, everything around him was being engulfed by the darkness.

“No!” I screamed.  I manage to pick up my roller and hoe before I started to run back to my truck.  Just as the mud was ending, I tripped and fell face first.  I didn’t hit mud though.  My body crashed against a cement floor.  A loud clinking sound filled my ears.  I could hear chatter amongst me.  My head slowly rose.  I couldn’t make out what everyone was saying.  All I could hear was ringing in my ears.  I got up and gripped the metal bars.  I instantly got screamed at to sit back down.  I did, but very reluctantly.

He sat in the corner playing with a piece of hay from his bed.  He closed his eyes and it was like everything was back to normal.  He could see the flats and the ocean.  Could smell the salt water.  Could hear the waves slowly coming in, then retreating.  Before he knew it, he was sitting back in the mud.  Startled, his eyes jolted open.  He rushed to his feet and gathered his things.  The sky was as clear as it had ever been today.  It didn’t look like any fog would come in again, or so he thought, so he started back to his digging spot.  He sure felt lucky to be home again, but that wouldn’t be for long.

It was right before sundown.  The sun was lowering in the sky, the coastal breeze biting at his face.   He was just getting ready to pack up and head back to his truck when before he could pick his head up, the fog rolled in faster than it ever had.  Nathan wasn’t in his cell this time.  He was at the courthouse for his trial.
The judge’s gavel rang throughout the courthouse bringing the trial to session.  I sat in a chair, which I’m assuming makes me the defendant, since there is no plaintiff.  It was just myself, my lawyer, and the judge.  The judge called for me, well Howard, to step forward to receive my verdict.   I slowly rose and took a few steps forward.  I felt nervous, but I’m not sure why.  I didn’t commit the crime.  I wasn’t even sure what the crime was.  Still, I stood ready to receive my verdict.

“Mr. Howard Ford, you have done number of wrongdoings throughout your life.  This past one, you repeated fifty times.  How does one do that? Would you mind telling me?” the judge questioned.

“I’m sorry, your honor, but I did not commit these crimes.  I am not the man you say I am.  I am not Howard Ford, I am Nathan Baker.  None of you will listen to me.  I’m not even from here.  The only wrongdoing right now is falsely accusing a man for something he did not do,” I answered.

“I always knew you were a bit out of your mind, Howard.  I didn’t think that you would come out with something like that just to get out of going to jail.  You look exactly like the man I know.  Therefore, you are Howard Ford,” he replied.

“Look, your honor, I’m not Howard Ford!  I never have, never will be.  I’ve never even seen this man before.  I’m out of here.”  Just as I started to walk out the door, two sheriffs grabbed ahold of me and took me back in front of the judge.

“Just for that, Mr. Ford, I’m going to give you your sentencing now and not let you defend yourself further.  I sentence you to 10 years per person, so you will spend the rest of your natural life behind bars.  If it wasn’t for that outburst, I would have only made it nine years per person.  It would have made no difference, but I don’t like the way you act.”  The judge banged his gavel and the two sheriffs took me to my jail cell and threw me in.  I laid down on the hay hoping to wake up back in the mud.

He never did.  Nathan Baker never returned to the mud, or his old life.  He remained in Aldlake, in that jail cell until he died.  Folks back home figured that the tide had come in and took him out to sea.  His body was never found so his family couldn’t find closure.  Be careful if you are in the fog, you never know when you’ll find yourself in the middle of an accusation.