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As part of our new Communion Letters, Susan writes: I haven't told this to anyone outside of my close family until now. There is a road in France that we lived next to in 1994 that had been there since Roman times. It is called in English, Highway #1, the oldest road in France. It winds between farms, and there are a couple of villages nearby. The farmers come out early in the morning to shoot pheasant. Those are the only people you see on this road.

The major users of that road were the Roman legions who built and used it in their conquests. It was also used in both World Wars. Just walking to market, I felt I was walking along a well-traveled way. According to my husband, a history buff, quite a bit of history happened on that road. Which might explain the two unusual, unnerving people I saw walking along it about two weeks apart.

As I was going to market one mid-day, walking with my sack and holding onto my dog's leash, I saw an odd sight walking towards me, a young man. This was odd because almost no one used that road, but what really caught my attention was the way he stared at me and the unusual clothing he was wearing. He was about 19 or 20, with olive-colored skin. He was dressed in a navy blue sweat shirt with a hood and blue jeans. Sounds normal, right? Not right. The clothes didn't seem to allow for his body depth. It was as if someone had seen a picture of a sweatshirt and jeans and sewn the clothing from just looking at the photo. They looked extremely uncomfortable, and they were dyed wrong. As he and I approached each other on the road, I saw that he had the biggest eyes I have ever seen?bright, bright blue. As we came closer, I said hello in French and he put his hooded head down, but still tried to look up at me as if he was curious. He said nothing. We both walked on and after about 20 steps I looked back. He was gone. Just plain gone.

About two weeks later, the same thing happened again, except it was a different person of about the same age?19 or 20 year old. He was wearing the same clothing as the other young man. His skin was white instead of olive, his eyes were huge, almond shaped and also bright, bright blue. When we were about to pass each other, I once again said hello, and he stuttered and said the same greeting back. I slowed down to talk with him, but he was blushing so much, I moved on. I again looked back, and once again he was gone.

I asked in the village about these two, but no one had seen them. Here?s my theory: what better place for a history student to study history than to walk the road through its various eras. Not to talk to anyone, not to be seen, just to walk the road to see conditions at various times throughout history. Could these have been time travelers on a history assignment?