September/October 2013

“I’m swimming in that lake whether you’re coming with me or not” “Annabelle, I just don’t think this is a good idea,” my best friend said nervously. “I mean, the sign even says, ‘Private Property: No trespassing, No swimming, No exceptions!’” “Oh, come on, Sarah! Nobody’s home right now anyway,” I replied. I enjoy having fun. You know, taking risks and doing the most ridiculous dares ever. That was fun. Now, I had my eyes set on swimming in the lake right before my eyes. It was so close, and the water looked so cool and clean. It definitely beat swimming in the community pool. “Sarah, I’m swimming in that lake whether you’re coming with me or not.” “Annabelle, wait!” I had already slipped through the fence and was in the process of taking my shoes off. “Annabelle,” Sarah pleaded, “what if something happens to you, and I become known as the girl who just stood by and watched, and then no one will be my friend, and no adult would respect me, and then where would I be in life, and that would also cause me tons of emotional problems when I get older, I might get post-traumatic stress disorder seeing something horrible happen to you, I could have nightmares for the rest of my life…” “Sarah,” I stopped her from going into one of her complete run-on-sentence-type ordeals. When she’s nervous she never stops talking. “You are just trying to distract me from going in that lake by jabbering!” With that, I jumped right off the pier and into the water. It provided wonderful relief from the heat wave that had swept through my town in Virginia. I stayed under the water for a few more seconds before resurfacing. “Ohhh, that feels so nice,” I said, trying to get Sarah to jump in too. “Nice try, Annabelle,” Sarah said, “there is no way whatsoever that I am even going on the other side of this fence. No, sir, I’m staying right here on un-private property.” “Suit yourself, you can stay in that dreadful heat while I’m nice and cool in here.” “Humph,” Sarah grumbled. *          *          * Suddenly I felt… different. It was as if I was weightless and was floating through nothing. It was dark, and I was under the impression that I had gone underwater, but I was still breathing. My vision blurred, and the world started spinning. I closed my eyes, only wanting to stop spiraling and find out where I was. Then everything stopped. I wasn’t in the water anymore, but I was still soaking wet. I slowly opened my eyes and saw an open sky with fluffy, white clouds spread out above me. Where the heck am I? seemed to be the only thing that I could think at the moment. A lush, green meadow went as far as the eye could see. It was so peaceful. It wasn’t a lake in Virginia where I was just moments before. I finally made myself get up and walk around to help dry my wet clothes. I thought about what I should do next. My options were: stay where I was and wait for someone to find me, or start moving in a random direction and hope to find someone. Of course, there was always the possibility that I was dreaming or something, but it all felt real. I paced and paced like I typically do while thinking, when I no longer had to make a decision. The ground beneath my feet began to tremble and vibrate. On the horizon I spotted at least twenty figures that looked like men on horses. Maybe I was in the pasture of a horse ranch or something. A few minutes went by and the horses were still heading toward me. I started to walk forward so I could meet up with them sooner. As I strode up to greet the men, they formed a tight circle around me. They all drew their swords while murmurs spread throughout them. One man’s horse stepped forward a bit and the man’s eyes narrowed. “It is the glorious Harvest Day! One of the most important holidays celebrated in honor of Sir Nathaniel Corin of Morovia and his perilous quests to find food for his starving people. Why are you not working in the fields where a peasant like you belongs?” the man asked, sounding bored and irritated. “I… uh… well… you see, I don’t know who Nathaniel Corin is, and I’m kinda lost. All I want to do is get back home and, you know, not work in a field,” I replied, not really knowing the best way to respond to that whole spiel. All of the men gasped in unison and whispered urgently to one another. The man who had spoken to me clenched his fists, his eyes seemed to pop out of his head, and his face turned an unnatural shade of purple. “Now listen! Make sure you listen well, because that kind of talk can get you killed! It is Sir Nathaniel Corin, or Sir Corin. It is never, under any circumstance, just…” he swallowed hard before reluctantly saying, “it is never just Nathaniel Corin.” What kind of a freak was this guy? I mean, seriously! Nobody even worshipped Oprah that much and I highly doubted that not saying the “Sir” could get me a death sentence. I was really tempted to tell this man that, but instead I said in my best theatrical voice, “My most sincere and deepest apologies. I do hope that you will forgive me. I really do just want to get home.” OK, the last part wasn’t a lie, but I was kind of enjoying messing with this guy. Suddenly, someone in the crowd piped up. He cried, “Wait! Take a good look at her; she resembles the girl in Sir Corin’s puzzle!” The man who was now returning to a normal shade of skin screamed, “Hush! Why should she know about that?”