An Unfortunate Beginning

by Natasha Brown

  “Out! All of you – out!” a man called from the side of the road.

  Red and I eyed each other nervously before jumping down. I stayed near the rear of the carriage, not wanting to be noticed.

  Voices rose again, but I couldn’t hear the conversation, which was fine with me. I would have been happy to disappear about now. This dream had gone on long enough. Aiming for inconspicuousness, I edged back around the opposite side of the carriage where everyone had gathered. To my relief, the darkness hid my presence. I stared off to the side of the road and recognized a pathway leading off into a valley. I decided to run for it.

  I made it to the safety of the rocky passage before tripping over a rock. Instinct took over and I thrust my hands out to catch myself. My palms met the dusty earth and pain followed. I grunted involuntarily and then bit my lip, hoping no one had heard. I remained still, waiting to see if I was being pursued. No. The muffled voices I heard were coming from the other side of the carriage. I jumped to my feet, brushed myself off and bumbled along the dark trail.

  Thankfully, the passage wasn’t very wide, and it guided me to its end. When I walked into the large basin, I made out the crooked, inky figure of the charred tree. I was back to where my adventure had started and I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Now what?

  Beam me up, Scottie.

  Just then, a glimmering light caught my attention. Beyond the tree, the rectangular outline shimmered in the dark. What was it?

  I edged forward, cautious, until I stood an arm’s length away and reached out my finger to touch it. My hand was bathed in light. It wasn’t painful, but tickled.

  Feeling strangely courageous, I stepped through the iridescent archway and my whole body vibrated with sensation. Bright light surrounded me so I couldn’t see anything – not the tree, the darkness around me or even my own body and I closed my eyes, hoping it would all end.

  Chapter 6 - Nim’s Secret

  My skin prickled and I had the sensation of being pulled through a wind tunnel. When the flurry of activity was over, I opened one of my eyes, prepared for the worst.

  It was dark – that much was clear – but it wasn’t the same frigid, lifeless terrain I had just been trudging through. I was in Grandpa’s study. The light wasn’t on and daylight no longer streamed in through its small window.

  Well, I must have slept the day away.

  I was standing near the rolltop desk, so I walked over and switched on the lamp. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw my scrawled writing decorating the paper. The gold pen lay to the side of it. I wondered what time it was. Surely it had to be near dinner or close to it. Automatically, I lifted my wrist to check my watch, but it wasn’t there.

  It was that moment I noticed what I was wearing. My ratty sweats and worn t-shirt were gone and in their place, a leather tunic and pants covered my body. Instead of my slippers, I had on a pair of heavy, too-large boots. I wiggled my toes and felt the wadded up fabric press against them.

  Schnikey.

  This wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t. There was no such thing as magic or whatever this was. Most importantly, things like this didn’t happen to me. They just didn’t.

  Had Aunt Holly slipped me something weird in my breakfast? I thought of the gross mushrooms in last night’s dinner and wondered if I should call the FDA. I would have thought I was hallucinating if it weren’t for the fact I was able to touch, see and smell (thanks to my sewer experience) my black leather uniform.

  A glint of gold drew my attention. It was then that I knew it, believed it in my heart. The pen was responsible for all of this. I recalled holding it in my fingertips and saying the words etched along the length of its decorative sheath, then the light and strange sensation of all my cells being transported to a different world, a different place.

  Was I the first person to experience this? Did Grandpa know he had a magical pen? I thought of his bright eyes as he read his stories to me in this very room so many years ago. I felt like he was actually here with me. I could imagine his raspy voice describing the world he had just created.

  I picked up my cell phone from the desk and coughed when I saw the time. It was nearly six o’clock. I wasn’t sure when I’d gone into the story, but knew it was sometime after eleven, because I had checked the time just before I’d stopped writing. With my phone in my hand, I turned away from the desk and stood in the center of the room, unsure what to do next. As far as Aunt Holly knew, I stayed in the attic all day. There was no way I could tell her about this – she’d think I was crazy. Losing it from the stress of Mom dying. Then there’d be all sorts of therapy appointments and I’d have to talk about my feelings. Yeah, I wasn’t about to let that happen.

  First thing I needed to do was to stow away my leather uniform. I didn’t want to be seen in it. I mean, she’d think I was trying out for a Shakespearean play or something. This outfit was not screaming rock star.

  I slipped off the oversized boots and stiff clothing, and breathed a sigh of relief when I was back down to my sweats and t-shirt. I folded everything up tidily like Mom showed me and I set them in a pile in the corner of the room. My feet grew cold on the bare boards and all I could think of was taking a hot shower. Dirt covered my hands and feet. I couldn’t imagine what I looked like, but I knew firsthand that after a long day of trudging through a dusty world I smelled like an onion sandwich left out in the sun.

  Without a second glance, I switched off the desk lamp and skulked down the attic steps. I wondered where Aunt Holly was and if she’d come looking for me at all. On my way to my room, I found my answer. She was asleep on a padded chair that sat in front of her easel. Tubes of paints were strewn out beside her on a small side table. Without making a sound, I walked into my room and grabbed some fresh clothes.

  All I could think about was cleaning myself off. The memory of trudging through the sewers was enough to make me gag. At least it hadn’t been bright enough to see much; it was only the smells that lingered in my thoughts. As I pushed into the bathroom, the yellow paint on the walls and the bright light made me squint after a long day of no color. I never thought I’d be as happy to see a bathroom as I was in that moment. As I slipped out of my smelly clothing, something clattered across the tiled floor.

  I bent over and discovered a dark object that looked like a rock. If it weren’t for its smoothed edges and almond shape I would have just tossed it into the trash, but I paused with it in my palm. Just as it was when I found it protected in the roots of the charred tree, it was frigid to the touch. I ran some warm water over it in the bathroom sink, scrubbing it clean. Even in the water, its temperature didn’t change, but what appeared to be a black piece of glass before now glimmered with dark iridescence. Before I jumped into the shower, I set the stone on the counter and wondered how I could have found such a beautiful thing in such a lifeless place.

  When I stepped under the hot water, my palms and knee flared up in pain. It took a minute for the stinging to fade and I carefully washed away the grime and smells that coated my skin. I even washed my hair twice (for the first time in my life).

  “Nim?” Aunt Holly’s voice called out from the other side of the door.

  A stream of water poured over my face and I answered, “Yeah?”

  “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I took a nap and lost track of time. It’s about dinner time – you hungry? Haven’t seen you all day. You okay?”

  That was subjective. I’d been magically transported to another land, and now that I thought about it, I was lucky to have made it back at all. Even through the hot steam, goose bumps raised on my arms as I considered the fact I could have been killed in that horrible place.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I bet you’re starved. I can whip up some wicked burritos if you give me ten minutes.”

  Her voice trailed off and I assumed she was on her way down to the kitchen to make good on her offer. I was thankful, because after a day of adventuring on an empty stomach, the tremors and rumbles coming fro
m my belly could have broken a seismometer. Look out Portland – it’s a 10.0 earthquake.

  With my hunger in the forefront of my mind, I finished up and dashed to my room. The offensively dirty sweats and tee were crammed into my hamper and I set the interesting rock on the desk in my room. I couldn’t think very deeply about my adventure, not with the lure of dinner downstairs.

  Aunt Holly watched me eat my second burrito in silent awe. I’m not even sure I chewed. I didn’t stop eating until my stomach gave me a warning rumble and I rested my forehead on my arm and groaned.

  “Wow – guess you like burritos. Want anything else? A sandwich or a steak?”

  I actually considered it until I realized she was joking. “Haha. How’m I supposed to grow without food?”

  “I’m fine with you eating a lot, but I should give you a mirror so you can see what you look like while you’re chewing. Your technique needs some work. You may not care now, but later on you’ll discover girls don’t like dating cave men.” Aunt Holly handed me a napkin.

  “Girls? Who said anything about girls?” My cheeks flushed at the absurdity. “Uh, I think I’m going to call it a night. I’m exhausted.” And I meant it. My body ached all over, especially my knee and palms. I wasn’t used to sitting in dungeons, escaping capture or taking day trips to fantasy worlds.

  “Probably a good idea since tomorrow’s Monday – first day of school.”

  Ugh. She had to remind me. What I needed was a vacation from my life – nothing like what I experienced today. The thought of exposing myself to ridicule from other twelve-year-olds actually made me nauseous.

  “Want a backrub? I remember how you used to love having your back rubbed at bedtime. Or maybe you’re too old now?” Aunt Holly frowned and looked at me.

  To be honest, a backrub sounded perfect, but I was too embarrassed to say yes. All I really needed was to fall into bed and sleep for a year and with luck she’d forget about school tomorrow. “Naw – I’ve grown out of backrubs. Thanks anyway. Night.”

  I stood up to leave and she cleared her throat. “Forgetting something?”

  I stared at her blankly.

  “Your plate. It doesn’t belong on the table. I’m not your maid. I made dinner – you get to do the dishes. You owe me years of servitude for getting your tablet fixed, remember?”

  I groaned and willed myself forward. I collected all the dirty dishes, brushed them off in the sink and threw them into the dishwasher. Okay, I wasn’t going to earn any tips for my thoroughness, but at least it was done.

  As I finished with the last dish, Aunt Holly walked up to me and planted a wet kiss on my cheek. “Thanks Nim.”

  “Night, Aunt Holly.”

  I dragged myself up to my room and barely pulled the covers up before my body gave out. Before I fell into a sleep coma, I decided with certainty that I would never use the pen again. It was too dangerous and unpredictable. I was lucky I’d made it out alive. There would be no more adventuring for me. I preferred a quiet and uneventful life.

  Chapter 7 -Into Hiding

  Monday, my suffering only continued.

  Aunt Holly not only remembered I had school, she woke me up extra early to make sure I was ready (nothing she could do would make me ready). She excitedly packed a sack lunch for me and I stowed it in my backpack.

  “The school’s not far – only a couple blocks away, but I’d feel better driving you,” she said and plucked her keys off the hook. I wondered only for a moment if it would have been better staying in my fantasy world instead of facing my real life.

  On our way there, we passed other fancy Victorian homes and kids walking on the sidewalk. There was no way I’d fit in with this crowd. I have a style all my own, but I’ve been told that wasn’t a good thing. I’m not a cut model type. I’m more of a dorky Mr. Rogers, if he wore hoodies and jeans all the time.

  My cheeks flushed as Aunt Holly pulled up in the lot at school. This was going to be painful.

  She walked me into the office like a child and introduced me to the receptionist, who fake-smiled at me like she’d seen far too many kids in her life to care about one more.

  “If you think you’ll be okay, then I’ll meet you out front after school. Good luck, Nim,” Aunt Holly said and gave me a hug, adding insult to injury.

  I pulled back. “No – can you meet me down at the stop sign instead?”

  “Of course. See you later.”

  She turned and left as the receptionist walked around her desk and said in a flat tone, “Come with me. I’ll show you to your locker and first class.” She pressed my schedule into my hand as she walked past me.

  We got jostled and bumped by passing students and every time the receptionist was touched she recoiled like she’d been exposed to the plague. After taking a closer look at a few of the kids, I didn’t blame her. She stopped and pointed at one of the lockers in the packed hallway. “Number three-sixty-two is yours. The combination is written on your schedule. Moving on.”

  Two boys were leaning up against that section of lockers and seemed to be passing the time pointing out all the good looking girls as they walked by. Great, I’d have to avoid my locker as much as possible. At least if I wanted to avoid my IQ dropping below the level of a snail. The ringleader noticed me staring at him and said, “What’s up? You brain damaged?” Like I was saying.

  Clearly, the receptionist meant business and had nearly disappeared around the corner when I hauled out of there. She must have wanted get back to the safety of her desk. When I caught up to her she pointed at a door down the hall, and I muttered. “Thanks, I can take it from here.”

  I slipped into the room unnoticed, and took a seat in the back of the class. My neck flushed when my locker neighbor walked into the room. I hoped he wouldn’t notice me, but of course the teacher felt it was necessary to introduce me to the class.

  “Dude, your name’s Nimrod?” my locker neighbor said. “How sardonic.”

  Dude, I think you mean ironic. What a tool.

  “Good one, Daryn.” His buddy congratulated him, giving him a high-five.

  Once again, my name provided the jerks a way to tease me without having to come up with an imaginative insult. I used to tell my mom I wished she hadn’t named me after Grandpa and had chosen something else like John or Jason, something strong that didn’t humiliate on introduction. After the first couple times, though, I stopped because she got so upset. My name meant ‘great hunter’, but try telling that to a bunch of flunkies.

  When I walked into Mr. Hill’s homeroom for second period, I hoped my luck had turned. I’d never seen a teacher wear Converse sneakers before; that was a first. Plus, I gathered from his ‘Thesaurus Rex’ t-shirt he was a literature geek. He looked like he was just out of college and most of the girls seemed to have a serious crush on him. It was like sitting in a classroom with cats watching a laser beam move around the room. But his lesson didn’t disappoint, which I was pretty happy about.

  During lunch break, I checked to see if my locker was clear. It wasn’t. Daryn and his sidekick were back to their spot, laughing at something I could only guess was as thrilling as a good booger joke. I tried to walk past unnoticed, but soon I heard Daryn calling out, “Nimrod’s just another word for stupid – did you know that? Probably not. Don’t you know, he’s stupid.”

  This was why Mom let me stay home. So I wouldn’t have to go through this. I wished I could come up with some brilliant comment to shut them down, but finding my voice in the moment was as likely as my chance of winning the lotto. Wasn’t ever gonna happen.

  Just when I could have used a broom closet to hide in, I came across the library. I slipped inside and felt instant relief. It was quiet and I knew I wouldn’t run into any other tools. Without my tablet, I’d have to check out a paperback, because squinting at my phone’s small screen just wasn’t going to do it.

  I found the fantasy section and picked a novel I hadn’t read before, dropped my book bag onto an empty table and slid into a chair
. Between my hair and the hood of my jacket, which was pulled over my head, I had plenty of cover. I set the book down and began reading.

  “Oh my God. Do you see what she’s wearing?”

  “That scarf looks like a dog’s chew toy. Hideous.”

  “You are so bad, Claire.”

  I glanced up and noticed three girls who must have been lost because they didn’t seem like the types who voluntarily went into libraries. Then, sure enough, I saw one hand some papers to the librarian and snicker.

  I turned around to look at who they were teasing. A girl with long black hair pulled into a high ponytail was sitting across the room and smirking back at them. She had on some black and white stripped tights with a purple dress that appeared to belong to a different decade. A ratty scarf was wrapped around her neck and had definitely seen better days. “Gosh, Claire, I’m surprised you know how to get to the library. Do you want me to draw you a map out of here? Or should I call your mom to pick you up?” She blew them a kiss and the three girls spun around to leave.

  The black haired girl noticed me staring and her lips turned up before she went back to what she was working on. I dropped my head, focused on the page and continued to read until my eyes got heavy and slid closed.

  I was running down a faintly lit hallway that led to a spiral staircase. Shouts and footfalls from behind urged me forward. I needed to hurry.

  My feet leapt up the stairs two at a time until I reached the top step and I burst through a wooden door. A woman with long, tangled hair rushed at me. Tears streaked down her face as she pleaded with me. “Please help me, Nimrod!”

  Chapter 8 - A New Friend

  A chorus of voices joined hers, filling my ears with cries of help.