My Attempt At Fan Fiction. A Possible Connection Of My Wife’s “Starstruck” to Her “Bridge Over Time” Novels.

This was an idea to connect my wife’s (Brenda Hiatt) young adult science fiction romance Starstruck series to her time travel novel “Bridge Over Time.” No such connection ever existed when either of the books were written, Bridge Over Time was written over a decade before Brenda even started Starstruck. But I came up with an idea to connect the books and I wrote this short story to do so. The events of Bridge Over Time are over 200 years prior to the events of Starstruck. There’s even an homage to my Dad, whose grandchildren (my children of course) most affectionately called him “Pop Pop.”

But please note, THIS IS NOT BRENDA HIATT’S WRITING. It’s mine. Call it authorized fan fiction. If you have not read at least the first book in the Starstruck series (which is free by ebook) it will make little sense at all. It will also tend to put the events of Bridge Over Time in a somewhat different light. You can find out more about both the Starstruck series and her Bridge Over Time novel at

Columbia, SC 1808 (17 Years Before The Opening Of Bridge Over Time).

Mark David Prescott admired his handiwork. On the outside the grandfather clock before him seemed to reflect just good ole South Carolinian workmanship, with beautiful and intricate woodwork. It was on the inside, that no other person currently in the later to be known as The Palmetto State could understand that its true differences were found.

Even his name was a fraud. He was nearly 200 years old now. In the eyes of native Earthers, or “duchas” as his kind called them, he looked perhaps 60, but he felt more his true age. “Too long on Earth” he thought and now an Earth disease had claimed him. Not that he would have traded his 56 years here for anything. The birth of this new promising nation. The duchas woman he loved. Their daughter born in 1783 as the great revolution ended, and his grand daughter, now only four years old.

“What are you doing, Pop Pop,” said that very grand daughter bouncing into his study, using her pet name for him. He smiled at her, still sensing the faint but discernible brath of her now attenuated origins . . . his origins. “Well Catherine I was just admiring my latest project” he said back. “What do you think?” he asked pointing to the clock.

She stared at it a moment and asked back, “What is it?”

“It’s a grandfather’s clock” he answered.

“Of course it is” she smiled, “you made it and you are my grandfather . . . but I call you ‘Pop Pop’ , so shouldn’t it be a Pop Pop clock?”

“You are the ever logical little girl” he replied, “you may call it your Pop Pop clock, if you like.”

“Thank you Pop Pop.” She looked at him, she looked at the clock. It ticked, it tocked (sounds he had added to the mechanism). She clearly expected more. Finally she simply asked “what does it do?”

“It tells time” he said.

“So?” she replied quite clearly unimpressed.

She was only four. What could it hurt? She would never understand anyway and would likely never remember. “Well,” he said, “this clock tells time very special. Most clocks like this lose, or gain, a little time, minutes or so a year. This clock will not. This clock will always tell the true time to within . . . well smaller measures of time than you will ever understand.”

“So?” she came again. He had forgotten how hard four year olds were to impress.

He sighed. “You like to go very fast, don’t you?”

“Oh yes!” she replied beaming “the faster the better. I only wish horses ran faster!”

“Well with this clock, because of its peculiar precision, you can calculate how fast you are going when you go very fast” he was trying to impress her.

“Even on the fastest horse?” she now did seem amazed.

“Yes,” he said “no matter how fast that horse.”

“Wow!” she replied. She looked at him, she looked at that clock, she looked back at him. “Well Pop Pop, I think I will go play with the new pony” and with that she was gone, running out to find the fastest thing she knew.

He looked back at the clock. Inside was a device she could never comprehend. At least he had never been able to comprehend it. For a century and a half he had studied it. Built by aliens, the Grentl. Left on Mars when they abandoned the colony of Nuath. The Nuathans had deciphered only a fraction of the technology left behind by the Grentl. Enough to engineer the ships by which he, and other early adopters had traveled to Earth.

But the device at the heart of that clock remained a mystery. He had tried so hard, but now with age taking him, he had to hide it. The device functioned by a precise quantum pattern which he knew he could use to create a timepiece that would keep absolutely perfect time, so it was in a timepiece he chose to hide it. He suspected the device had sophisticated and mysterious quantum particles, capable of finding and reversing the temporal dimensions of other quantum particles to which the particles in the device might spontaneously become entangled. But to the extent that might be its purpose he could find no way to control or predict such properties.

Perhaps that precocious grandchild of his could puzzle it out. He would tell her someday, when she was old enough to understand such concepts, and her own out of this world origins. How ironic that he would tell her, when he had never felt comfortable telling either her now passed away grandmother or his daughter . . . It was then that he felt his nearly 200 year old heart seize, and realized he had just had his last conversation with that grandchild. As he collapsed he wondered if anyone would ever learn what that device at the center of his clock could do.

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