I don't know how it happened. To this day, I can't say what occurred. The improbability of it all is 

I think I ought to explain. I was a professional hitman. Had been for several years. For that reason, I won't share with you my name. I'd rather not put you in the danger my name brings.

I had just come back from a job. As usual, I was successful. Most people were completely unaware that I had just killed one of the most powerful politicians in the world.

I walked down the street, carrying my sniper rifle in its case. Of course, I had it modified to look like the sort of case one would carry an instrument like a double bass in.

The details of the contract aren't important. You don't need to know.

I walked down the street, my rifle over my shoulder, blending in with the backstreet theater people, who likewise carried large cases with the tools of their trade in them. I wore a nice dark tuxedo, exactly like the ones who played in the orchestras of any sort of appeal to the people. simply put, I was anonymous.

That's when it happened. For no rhyme or reason, as simply as you would take a step forward, I found myself in a new world. I stood in a bare earth circle, roughly fifteen yards in diameter. Corpses lay around me, dressed either in the sort of dress they used in ancient times, or in black cloaks with hoods obscuring their faces.

They lay on grass, red with the blood that spilled from the wounds they each carried. The earth I stood on, for whatever reason, stood bare of grass, and no blood had touched it.

I looked around in an attempt to figure out where I was. To my right stood a forest, dark and implicit in the dangers it held. Beyond the forest wound a road. I followed it with my eyes to see a mountain far larger than any mountain had a right to be.

I whipped around as a young woman rushed past me, a look of fear on her face. She looked back as she passed me, causing her to trip over one of the many bodies lying there.

It happened almost too quickly for me to comprehend. A figure dressed in a black hooded cloak rushed past me and grabbed the girl before she could get back up.

The figure drew a blade that had been sheathed, and raised it. Before the figure could strike, I had pulled a sidearm from my boot and let out a shot, hitting the figure in the back. The knife fell from the figure's hands onto the grass. The figure fell to its knees, releasing the girl as I let out another shot. The figure was dead before it fell completely.

The girl turned around, and I got my first glimpse of her. Her beauty shone in a strange way, and she looked at me as if unsure what to make of me. She looked at me, gun still in hand, and back down at the corpse of the person I had just killed and ran.

I took a deep breath as I went over what I tried to process everything that had just happened. I sat down and crossed my legs, looking at my surroundings, still having no clue where I was.

I sat there for some time before I decided I needed to figure out where I had ended up. I stood and walked to the edge of the circle. I noticed a strange metallic powder that sat on the edge of the bare earth. I bent down to look at it, only to have my hand stop suddenly before I could get close to it. I felt my way around the circle inch by inch, but found myself trapped by some invisible force. I pounded my fist against it in anger and frustration. Whatever force held me there wouldn't budge, no matter what I did.

I looked again towards the road and let out a breath. Men marched up, shovels in hand. They looked at the carnage around, and at me. They regarded me with some sort of mixture of fear and awe at the scene around me.

They moved a good distance away from the circle and put their spades in the earth. Other men gathered the ones who weren't cloaked and hooded, and carried them off. I imagine they were given some form of funeral rites, though I never saw it.

The men dug large trenches, several feet, if not yards, deep. The men who had carried the ones who weren't cloaked returned and unceremoniously dropped the corpses of the cloaked ones into the trenches. They covered them with a small amount of dirt and walked off.

A short time later, a group of women arrived, bearing long poles and a long, thick cloth. They swiftly erected a tent around me, leaving me in the darkness.

I don't know how long it was after that before the darkness of the tent was broken by the girl I had seen earlier. She dressed in robes, keeping her head and face unobscured. She chattered to me in her language. For the life of me, I couldn't understand it.

You have to understand. I have been all over the world, and can converse freely with just about anyone in any major city. Yet I could not make out anything she said. The language bore no resemblance to any known language that I knew of.

When she saw I didn't understand, she brought up some lanterns, and hung them on the poles. The light helped quite a bit. She yawned and chattered at me a bit more in her language. I'm fairly sure she asked if there was something else she could do, or if I needed something.

Of course, she also could have been asking to leave. I couldn't be certain. I gestured for her to sit. I bent down and drew in the dust a picture of someone sleeping and pointed to her. She nodded, and I waved at her to leave. She bowed her head gratefully, and reached across the line of powder. She drew a picture of the sun with an arrow pointing up, indicating that she would be back in the morning.

She rose and left the tent, not looking back at me. I sat there, the lamps flickering and holding back the darkness.

"Looks like you've got a cute one," An old man said, stepping from the shadows, "You got lucky, my friend. You should take advantage of that while you can. Life only lasts so long. I got an old man, and then two more after him."

It was nice to hear English again, though the old man clearly

He let out a chuckle, "Get her while you can, and she doesn't go chasing some other fellow. Oh, I suppose you're wanting an introduction. Well, I don't do those, so you can forget it. I'm sure you have questions. Well, I don't do those either. I'll just say that you're in a new place, and you're not going back to who you were."

He chuckled, "You really are lucky. Take advantage of it while you can. Have fun."

He smiled luridly at me and left, leaving only the lamps for company. The rest of the night passed quietly, no one seeming to dare interrupt anything.

It was only after several hours had passed that I realized a few things. I had remained sitting crossed legged for several hours, yet I could still move without any sort of pain. Nor did I feel hungry or tired. I sat there for several hours contemplating this new existence I had gotten myself into without reaching any definite conclusions.

Where before my world had been one of cold hard facts, now I couldn't be certain what was true anymore. Where once I could travel far and see the world, now my world consisted of a small circle and four nearly identical walls. I was free once.

In the morning, the girl came again. She bore two slates in her arms, and some chalk for writing. She sat down, similar to how I did and wrote something on the board before showing it to me. I could not read the writing on the slate, and it must have showed. She let out a breath and erased it before drawing something on there.

Thus it was that she taught me her language. For a long time I resisted speaking in full sentences or even phrases. I could the frustration on her face often as I apparently didn't understand what she was trying to teach me.

In truth, however, there was a reason I didn't speak the way she wanted. There was a phrase I wanted to say to her, and I wanted it to be the first phrase I spoke in her language.

I spent a great deal of time practicing the phrase after I had strung it together, trying to get it right. Then, I practiced even more to work up the courage to say it to her.

Finally, one day during the time we had together, I told her in her own language that I thought she was beautiful. Her eyes went wide with shock as she heard it, and she bent her head within her hood, hiding her face. I could see, however, a small smile on her face, and a slight change in her countenance.

I explained that I understood what she had been teaching me was something I paid attention to, and understood. I had wanted that phrase to be the first I spoke in her language. The left that night, and I could tell she had a question on her lips. It was, however, one she didn't ask.

I began teaching her English. It took far longer to teach her than I took learning. Her first phrase to me was that she loved me. I replied in hers that I loved her as well. We spoke for a long time, switching between languages.

That night was a special night, and one I will long remember. It was also one of many such nights.

I won't share her name either. I'd rather not have it known. A man needs his secrets, after all. And I'd prefer not to have her name disrespected like many other names.

The villagers were fairly supportive. I suppose it was all they could do, really. They supplied chairs and a sleeping roll, which she was thankful for.

I was not there when our first child was born. I was still trapped within the circle that was my prison.  I spent the time pacing in my tent, sick with worry. Another saw to my few needs for a time before I saw my first child.

Several years passed, all while I stayed in the tent. Our family grew, and the world outside changed. I would ask from time to time what went on outside the canvas walls that were my tent. My wife would smile and tell me I would see in good time.

I waited for several years. It was when she was five months along with our fifth child when she walked in, all four children in tow. She walked up to the edge of the circle and announced that it was time. She scraped that the metallic powder that had never lost its sheen in the years I had been there, breaking the circle.

She reached out a hand to me, and I grasped it. For the first time, I stepped beyond the circle that was my prison and out of the tent.

Where once a meadow saw strewn with corpses and wet with blood, large black walls of dark stone now sat, stretching up to the heavens. She led me up a set of stairs to an obsidian throne, and through the whole temple. The tour continued until she had brought me to a large bedroom in a white marble room.

My life changed that day. I later witnessed the birth of my fifth child, and every child after that. My family seems immune to the passage of time. Myself, I don't know why. My wife, I believe because she is mine, and my children because they come from me. They will grow up, and then time passes them by.

In a sense, I picked up my old job once again. I became more or less some sort of figure of judgement and death. My sniper rifle found new life as I used it often. I found to my delight that it never ran out of bullets. Less useful in this world was my cell phone. It never ran out of batteries, no matter what I did with it. Of course, that wasn't much, considering that nothing of its sort had been invented. Likely it would be several more centuries than I'd care to count before it would.

For now, I have my wife and children. I have the support of the ones I need the most. For now, I am happy. What more could I ask for?