Monday, 18 March 2013

Twist of The Handles

Hi Everyone. Enjoy this post. It's a quick beginning of a story (to be continued (hopefully into a novel)) that I was inspired to write when I saw this writing prompt. That box could be anything. It could do anything you wanted it to do. You're the writer, so you choose!
Enjoy.



My breath was coming out in pants. I tripped over a tree root and fell. Scrabbling in the dirt,  I picked myself up and resumed my flight. Glancing back, I  saw the alpha wolf’s yellow eyes peering out at me from the gloom underneath the trees. I kept running, yet I knew it was hopeless. The pack was almost upon me now. I couldn’t outrun them, nor could I mask my scent from them or tempt them with a tastier prey. They could smell it on me, the blood running down my forehead. They knew I was weak and injured.    

I stumbled, gasping for breath, into a clearing. Perfect, I thought ironically. Just what I needed. The wolves would spread out and attack me from all sides, savaging me to pieces. This was not the way I had imagined my trip out in the woods. Although, I told myself in my head, no one will miss me. I had no one, just the orphanage that hated me anyways. I had been taken there at the age of five, when my parents had mysteriously disappeared on a sailing trip. 

I slowly walked towards the centre of the clearing. The moon illuminated it, bathing it in a silvery light. I inched towards the very centre of the clearing, constantly turning around, keeping my eyes on the slowly advancing wolf pack. 

Then I felt it. I could feel its presence, a warm, glowing and comforting feeling in amongst all this darkness surrounding me, like the first crocus bursting out from the snow in spring. The wolves could feel it too. They stopped dead in their tracks, yellow foam encrusting their mouths, saliva dripping from their open jaws, their pink tongues licking their startlingly white fangs. Many pricked their ears up. Some lowered their tails and whimpered. Others took tail and fled, their ears flat against their skulls. The alpha twitched, as if the warm substance was merely and annoying fly, then continued to stare at my forehead wound hungrily. 

I turned around. The light was coming from a small box, that hung in midair, floating on the chilly wind. My boots crunched in the snow as I walked nearer to it. I could have sword it was trapped sunlight, for it glowed like the sun. I couldn’t help being a bit afraid of it. I had no idea what it was. I put my hand through the orange light that the box gave away, enjoying the appearance of flames coursing through my fingers. 

The lead wolf blinked, its yellow eyes glistening with malice. I looked back at the box. It was either the box or being mauled by a huge white wolf. You can imagine which one I chose. I chose the latter.

I stuck my hand into the light, and felt myself being sucked into it, although it was barely larger than my palm. Then the world disappeared with a white flash. The wolves disappeared, as did the snow covered forest, and the moonlight. 

When I opened my eyes, I found myself gazing at a large temple. It looked familiar. It looked like something from a history book. Strange, spiky scripture was written on the top. I cautiously entered. Inside was a gargantuan statue of a woman dressed in traditional greek wear, bearing a lance and a shield, on top of which perched an owl. I racked my brains. History lesson, I thought. Then it struck me, when my gaze lingered on people dressed in a similar fashion. They were throwing golden coins in a fountain near the figure and bowing to the statue. 
Athena. The temple was the Parthenon, and not the replica in the United states. It had to be the real one. The security was not people dressed in janitor uniforms, but soldiers, wearing greek armor. The crests on their helmets were red plumes. Athena. I thought. Goddess of wisdom and war. The statue was the Goddess Athena. And that meant, if the parthenon was the actual one, that I was in Athens. Athena had had the city named after her after she had ruled out the argument by winning a chariot race against Poseidon, God of the Seas.

I was in Athens. And no, it wasn’t 21st century modern day Athens. I tried to find pockets, only to discover that I was also dressed in a tunic. I couldn’t find my phone. The only thing on me was a leather pouch holding a few golden coins- ancient greek Drachmas. Oh lord, I thought. Then I whispered, as the truth all came into place. “I’m in Ancient Greece”. 

1 comment:

  1. Looking good. How cool would it be if this prompted your next book! I admire you beyond words Sarah. It is hard to be so committed to words and the act of writing. Thanks for inviting us into your process.

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