EBOOK
About
Peter Lycon lives for the forgotten places-abandoned prisons with their rusted bars and echoing corridors, lost bayous where cypress knees rise like silent guardians from still water, and ghost towns that the rest of the world has long since left behind. As a photographer and explorer with deep Swedish roots, he has spent years documenting Mississippi's hidden history, leading his tight-knit crew of fellow adventurers-Krewe du Exploration-on journeys into the places most people have forgotten.
So when the Krewe sets out for Rodney, Mississippi-an old river port swallowed by time-he expects nothing more than crumbling ruins, eerie footage for their next video, and a good campfire story to tell when they get home.
But something is waiting on the Natchez Trace.
The ride begins like any other adventure. The group winds along the ancient roadway, the September heat thick and humid, the horses' hooves kicking up dust as they follow the winding path through dense stands of oak and pine. Peter feels the familiar thrill of discovery, the same restless pull that drove his eighth-great-grandfather to leave Sweden for the New World centuries ago. His daughter Lena rides beside him, her youthful energy a constant reminder of why he still does this. Stoney cracks jokes in his easy New Orleans drawl. Gigi hums low under her breath, sensing the land in ways the rest of them never could. Jax and Wyatt banter in the rear, already speculating about what they might find in the ruins.
They crest the final ridge expecting the quiet decay they came for. Kudzu-choked foundations. Collapsed rooftops. The hush of a town long abandoned.
Instead, Rodney is alive.
It is 1863, and the town is thriving.
The streets pulse with the rhythmic clatter of Conestoga wagons and the steady clip-clop of mule teams. Women in wide hoop skirts glide along wooden boardwalks, parasols twirling. Children chase hoops through the dust, their laughter mingling with the lively chatter of merchants hawking wares from storefronts. The air carries the rich scents of fresh-baked bread, woodsmoke from chimneys, and the faint, briny tang of the Mississippi River drifting up from the bluffs. Church bells toll faintly in the distance, calling the faithful to afternoon reflection, while the Presbyterian sanctuary stands proud at the town's heart, its brick facade unmarred, bell tower reaching toward a cloudless sky.
The Krewe has crossed a threshold. The boundary between their modern world and this vibrant past has dissolved without warning. One moment they were riding through the humid September heat on the Natchez Trace. The next, the world shifted. Rodney isn't abandoned anymore. It's alive, breathing, and very much 1863.
And every familiar face in the Krewe is suddenly dressed for another century.
Trapped between the past they've only read about and a present that may never let them return, Peter and his daughter Lena must navigate a town that shouldn't exist-while keeping the one secret that could unravel everything: they don't belong here.
They must blend in, stay silent, and find a way home before history swallows them whole.
Some places don't want to be found. Some places don't want you to leave.
Lost in Rodney is the gripping first book in a time-slip adventure series where history isn't just something you study-it's something you survive.
So when the Krewe sets out for Rodney, Mississippi-an old river port swallowed by time-he expects nothing more than crumbling ruins, eerie footage for their next video, and a good campfire story to tell when they get home.
But something is waiting on the Natchez Trace.
The ride begins like any other adventure. The group winds along the ancient roadway, the September heat thick and humid, the horses' hooves kicking up dust as they follow the winding path through dense stands of oak and pine. Peter feels the familiar thrill of discovery, the same restless pull that drove his eighth-great-grandfather to leave Sweden for the New World centuries ago. His daughter Lena rides beside him, her youthful energy a constant reminder of why he still does this. Stoney cracks jokes in his easy New Orleans drawl. Gigi hums low under her breath, sensing the land in ways the rest of them never could. Jax and Wyatt banter in the rear, already speculating about what they might find in the ruins.
They crest the final ridge expecting the quiet decay they came for. Kudzu-choked foundations. Collapsed rooftops. The hush of a town long abandoned.
Instead, Rodney is alive.
It is 1863, and the town is thriving.
The streets pulse with the rhythmic clatter of Conestoga wagons and the steady clip-clop of mule teams. Women in wide hoop skirts glide along wooden boardwalks, parasols twirling. Children chase hoops through the dust, their laughter mingling with the lively chatter of merchants hawking wares from storefronts. The air carries the rich scents of fresh-baked bread, woodsmoke from chimneys, and the faint, briny tang of the Mississippi River drifting up from the bluffs. Church bells toll faintly in the distance, calling the faithful to afternoon reflection, while the Presbyterian sanctuary stands proud at the town's heart, its brick facade unmarred, bell tower reaching toward a cloudless sky.
The Krewe has crossed a threshold. The boundary between their modern world and this vibrant past has dissolved without warning. One moment they were riding through the humid September heat on the Natchez Trace. The next, the world shifted. Rodney isn't abandoned anymore. It's alive, breathing, and very much 1863.
And every familiar face in the Krewe is suddenly dressed for another century.
Trapped between the past they've only read about and a present that may never let them return, Peter and his daughter Lena must navigate a town that shouldn't exist-while keeping the one secret that could unravel everything: they don't belong here.
They must blend in, stay silent, and find a way home before history swallows them whole.
Some places don't want to be found. Some places don't want you to leave.
Lost in Rodney is the gripping first book in a time-slip adventure series where history isn't just something you study-it's something you survive.