Although, I must say, the weather today is absolutely stunning. Perfect running weather! Which is just what I did earlier this afternoon. The sun was bright but not too warm, there was a slight breeze, and the sky was blueblueblue. I wanted to go sailing, but since I haven't actually done any sailing since summertime, I think I've forgotten most of what I learned.
I wish I had more time to practice that kind of thing; sailing, snowboarding, skating, etc. Every season I get a hang of it, then lose it over the rest of the year. Pretty sad to think I'll only ever be in beginner classes...
Anyway, here's the next part of the story. I don't even know if anyone's reading this stuff but oh well, I promised I'd post it and so I am.
pic: http://lh5.ggpht.com/_fHdthPwkv1k/SGLOgl9gy5I/AAAAAAAAAZg/1mln_z9-Eas/San+marino+castle+1.jpg
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Elsa opened her eyes. Where were they? The elevator had gone down so fast that her heart had felt like it was floating.
“Come on,” Mr. Everitt whispered. He led the two girls, one tall and lithe, the other small and barely able to keep up with her companions, down a pathway. It felt like a cave of some sort. A cool draft tickled Elsa’s legs. There were lanterns all along the path; green and blue ones that threw the colours of an ocean against the damp walls. Suddenly, Mr. Everitt stopped. Elsa strained her ears for a sound; a tinkling came from further up the way. It was approaching fast. Silver light appeared around the corner, and a glowing carriage with it. Elsa could not believe her eyes. It seemed to be some sort of pumpkin! Mr. Everitt climbed in with the child.
“Well, come on, Elsa. We have places to go,” he called, extending his hand down to her. He seemed more relaxed now than she had ever seen him. His mouth seemed readier to break into a smile, and his eyes shone in the flickering light. Watchfully, Elsa took his hand and settled down into the red velvet seats. The doors closed with a snap, and they were off, racing into the azure underworld. She stared out of the window. She thought she saw a shimmery wisp of something whip by, but it may have been her imagination. This felt too much like a dream; one she had a feeling she had dreamt before. She pinched herself, and winced. The child, seated across from her, giggled, her tears gone now. That reminded Elsa.
“Mr. Everitt, where did she come from?” She stopped. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see in a while.” He paused. “This girl…she’s Gretel.” He did not elaborate.
“Well, we are underground, aren’t we?” Elsa pried. She wasn’t nervous at all, to be honest, although this sort of situation would normally have sent her running to a mental institute. She felt calm, somehow, like she was a child again, falling into those magical stories.
“We are for now. Not for long.”
“But how are we—“ she started.
“Hush now,” he murmured. Elsa gave up, but paid him no mind. She turned to the child.
“Gretel, how old are you?”
“She doesn’t speak our language,” Mr. Everitt said. “She’s five.”
“How was she in your room? I saw no one go in.”
“Elsa—“ he started.
“And why do you call me Elsa now?” she interrupted. “I was Miss Lanet before.”
“You may call me…Jett, then, if it troubles you.” He had begun to look sad again, so Elsa looked out the window. It seemed to be getting lighter in the tunnel. It was a long while before either of them spoke again. Gretel curled up and slept.
All of sudden, the world went completely black. There was nothing. Elsa felt as if she were suspended in the air, and no sound came from her open mouth. And then, as suddenly as it had come, the paralysis went away. Tiny pinpricks of light bloomed outside the coach, which now raced faster than ever. A high-pitched sound came from all directions, making it hard to get her bearings.
“Mr. Everitt—Jett, where—what’s happening?” Elsa cried. She caught a glimpse of him; he seemed as composed as ever, albeit a bit disheveled.
“We’re just going through the barrier. It’s normal,” he shouted to be heard over the noise. “Trust me!”
Barrier? Elsa wondered at this, but could only nod. She squeezed her eyes shut, and waited for the churning ride to end. She could hear Gretel laughing merrily. She thought of her most peaceful childhood memory; though it was lonely, she had been happy enough. She imagined she was at that table in her father’s library again, reading her favourite storybook, tracing the painted pictures with her tiny fingers…
A moment later, it stopped. Elsa cracked an eye open. The carriage was flooded with light. Her skin felt tingly and warm and cold at the same time, but otherwise she felt alright. She peered out the glass, and looked out upon a lonely moor. The sky was clear and blue, the long grass windswept and thick. She turned to Jett.
“Where have you taken me? And what was that barrier for?” she demanded. This had gone far enough.
“You’ve been here before,” he sighed. “It’s alright. This isn’t the world you know anymore. You’ve just forgotten.” Elsa stared at him. What world was this then? And he sounded as if he’d known her for years! What did he mean, she had been here before? She was sure she would have remembered that sort of carriage ride if she’d done it before. She racked her brains, searching for any indication that she had ever been here, wherever here was.
He spoke in an odd tongue to Gretel, who gleefully popped open the doors and skipped out into the grass. It nearly hid her from sight. And then, she was gone. All that Elsa could see of her was grass that bent as Gretel ran through. Jett saw her gazing after her, and he gently pulled her away by the elbow.
“Elsa, let me show you what you have forgotten over the years.” He led her out onto the green grass, still wet with morning dew. She longed to ask again where they were, but knew he would not answer. “Must be morning still,” he remarked, looking up at the sun. “Here, here’s the view you loved.” Elsa gaped at him. ‘Loved’? She had been here long enough to love something?
The moor ended in a high, ragged cliff. She peered over the edge of the rocky drop-off, and gasped. There was a city down there! Bright and sparkling in the sunlight, with white turrets and brick chimneys and smoke curling up into the blue, it seemed to tug at her heart. But still, she could not remember if she had been here before.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured to Jett. He beamed at her, like a little boy. She looked at him curiously. “How odd. You look much younger now.” His face fell.
“You don’t remember?” he asked, crestfallen. Elsa cringed at his expression. “I thought you did, when you looked at the City like that.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t believe any of this is happening, really. I can’t remember a thing,” she explained. He slumped in disappointment.
“Well, let’s go see what we can do for you then,” he muttered. “I have to make you remember.” He started down the steep decline, and Elsa could only follow.
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