Writing Exercise 093

This week I got a prompt from my dear writing buddy Frankie, and a quite interesting one at that. So come with me on a journey and see what happens. :D

2017/09/18 – The teapot boils and you pour the hot water into the mug. Stir the teabag around in circles, creating a small vortex within the cup. As you keep stirring, you watch the vortex, staring at it dreamily, until you notice the vortex getting bigger and bigger and suddenly you are pulled into it. Down and down the spinning vortex, down and gone to another realm. Where do you land and how do you get back?

Breaching the surface she drew in huge gulps of air; gasping and panting she looked around to find herself in a lake surrounded by dark hills contrasting with the golds and violets of the setting sun. Still out of breath she swam to the banks and dragged her body out of the water, shivering with cold.

“What in the world happened? And where am I?” she wondered as she looked about the beautiful and perfectly calm landscape. Two pale moons were up, and the first stars became visible in the evening sky. So she instantly knew, this was not Earth anymore.

“This has to be one of my weird dreams,” she groaned. Then again she never realized she was dreaming when she did. But it couldn't be real either, could it?

The sun was low on the horizon and wouldn't be able to dry her clothes, so she decided to move and try to find people who might help her. Trudging along the banks of the lake she shivered; her flip-flops made a wet noise with every step she took. Her thoughts wandered home, wishing this really was just a dream and she was napping on her cosy sofa huddled in a fleece blanket and her tea was getting cold.

In the distance she saw a campfire burning in the semi-darkness, and she felt so relieved there were people out there she almost forgot to be afraid. Almost. For as she hurried towards the light in the dark she remembered that whoever was there might not be as friendly as she hoped. On her long way there images of ghastly monsters danced before her mind's eye, drinking blood and crunching bones with their sharp teeth – her bones. She shook her head and walked on. No, she needed help; she was in no position to fear for herself and conjure the worst persons possible. Maybe these monsters were nice and helpful monsters who offered her a change of clothes and a cup of tea.

Decidedly she approached the campfire. And when she arrived, she sighed a sigh of relief as she saw the creatures sitting there looked perfectly human. And yet her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. It was still three men, at least one of them armed with a sword, against one frail and shivering woman. She gulped and halted as if rooted to the ground.

“Come, sit with us. You must be cold,” the man with the sword had noticed her and his dark eyes bore into her as if they could see past her flesh and bones and right into her soul.

The other men also looked her way now. “Oh, hey there. Didn't notice you there in the dark,” the dark blonde smiled at her and waved, while the other stern looking man only acknowledged her with a nod.

“Uh, thank you,” she hesitatingly smiled, “and hi.” These strangers seemed oddly familiar, though she was sure she'd never met them before. Carefully she sat and eyed them a bit warily. At least they seemed friendly and spoke her language. She rubbed her hands and held them close to the fire. The warmth did wonders to her shivering body, but her wet clothes still clung to her.

“May I offer you a cup of coffee? Or tea...” the stern man politely asked. In his three-pieced suit he seemed a bit out of place, much unlike the other two.

“Yes, please,” she nodded eagerly, the prospect of a hot beverage melted her mistrust away. “Either is fine. And thank you.” The man poured her a cup and she cradled it, warming her hands before taking a sip. The coffee was strong and bitter but it did the worlds of good. She smiled and sighed contentedly.

The dark blonde fetched a big towel from their tents. “Did you fall into the lake?” he asked sympathetically.

“Something like that,” she murmured a bit embarrassed. She didn't think they might believe her if she told them what really happened. Instead she huddled into the towel and dried herself. But she stopped when she felt the scrutinizing stare of the one who invited her to their campfire. “Uhm…?” she blinked at him questioningly.

“No, she didn't,” he stated, “she fell through a vortex in her tea cup and landed here.”

She startled, feeling embarrassed yet again. How did he know? Somehow she felt, she should know the answer already.

“A vortex in her tea cup? That sounds highly unlikely,” the dark blonde chuckled quietly.

“But it's true, isn't it? Asuka Ishimaru, author of two short story collections about our dear Neverbeen Universe,” the man who became creepier and creepier to her observed.

“How – how do you know my name?” she asked scared as hell.

“Indeed, how would I know if you didn't tell me and we'd never met? Well, you do know me – as you know all of us – and you know my powers even more than I do, don't you? Remember. Who am I?” he grinned, crafty as a cartload of monkeys.

She stared at him, utterly confused and even shaken. The coffee cup in her hands trembled as she clutched it. Her mind was in turmoil as it tried to make sense of what that man told her. She was sure, they'd never met. And yet she couldn't shake the feeling that – like he said – she did know them.

“How is that even possible, Raphael?” the dark blonde wondered as the stern gentleman cleared his throat and said with an apprehensive air: “If I may? Ishimaru-sensei may very well know us if her identity is confirmed. As I gather from your information on her, Ra-chin, she indeed may be the wisest entity in this whole Universe, and it is a wondrous incident that she is in fact here.”

She stared and outright gaped at the three men before her as finally it dawned on her who they were. At once everything made sense. Why they seemed so familiar, why the man called Raphael knew her name and what happened to her, why the gentleman behaved as he did. She etiolated and felt as though she might faint any minute. Could this really be happening?

“Oh my god,” she whispered, eyes still trained on the three men as if they had grown a second head. But this was even more miraculous. “Is this really real? Are – are you... real?” she blurted and almost dropped her cup of coffee.

Raphael crossed his arms and grinned: “As real as we possibly could.”

And the dark blonde – Gene – blinked, then nodded. “Sure. I feel very real.”

The gentlemanly Reaper agreed as well.

And she was very well gobsmacked. The more she realised the three of them were really there – she was really there and came face to face with them – the more a broad smile spread on her lips. “Awesome. This is totally awesome,” she breathed and stared at them dreamy-eyed. To meet the main characters of her novel in the making was a dream come true.

“Not at all,” Raphael glowered and knotted his brows. “Care to explain why the hell you do all these things to us in your new story? I don't care what happens to me, but I hope you have a damn good reason for what happens to my dear Gene,” he had a warning tone in his voice which spoke of the danger and power he contained. He stood and spread his black wings.

She gulped, her enthusiasm snuffed out in an instant and replaced by fear. For she very well knew what this Daemon was capable of – she had written it herself.

However, the Reaper came to her rescue and stood in Raphael's path. “Don't do something reckless, Ra-chin,” he solemnly said, “remember. Ishimaru-sensei is our creator. If you do her harm we won't be able to foresee the consequences to our own existence, nay, the existence of whole Neverbeen Universe.”

“I know that,” Raphael growled, “but that doesn't justify what she's doing to us. I can't let her get away with murder, even if it's just in a book.”

“Murder?” Gene echoed, and exclaimed shocked, “Someone's going to die? I don't want that.”

“It's just for dramatical purposes. And there is a happy end,” she promised, then turned to Raphael, “You know that, right? All is well in the end. You can prove it if you read my mind.”

Raphael crossed his arms and shook his head. “I don't like it. Rewrite the story!”

Again, Thanatos cleared his throat to get their attention: “If there is an agreeable ending, that may not be necessary. Be that as it may, there is a more concerning fact at hand. If Ishimaru-sensei is here in Nverbeen Universe, a world of her own creation, this may have serious consequences, possibly cataclysmic ones.”

Gene nodded. “I see. I get it now. But whatever happens when she is here?”

“Excuse me. That I can't possibly fathom,” Thanatos said. “However, I deem it an urgent matter to transport Ishimaru-sensei back to her own world so this world might not be endangered, nor pose a threat to her wellbeing.”

“Agreed,” Raphael relented, “I don't want this place to implode on us or whatever. So we have to get her back to wherever she came from.”

She nodded eagerly. As great and fascinating it might be to meet her own creations in the flesh, she knew how dangerous this world was and she certainly didn't want to die in an imaginary world. “Yes, please. I'd rather you visited me at home than something happened to me here,” she smiled lopsidedly.

“But how to get you there?” Gene asked. “Could one of those portals bring you there?”

Raphael thought for a moment until he concluded: “I don't think so. The portals may be connected to other places in Neverbeen Universe, but they won't lead outside. We have to think of something else.”

For a while pensive silence ensued until it was again Raphael who came up with something. “Let's have a look at the incident that brought you here: you were pouring yourself some tea, stirring the tea and creating a vortex. And as you stared at it the vortex sucked you in. My guess: this is all in your mind; the vortex hypnotized you somehow and you're still there where you belong. Otherwise you couldn't possibly enter a universe that is purely of your own creation.”

That somehow sounded plausible. “So what do I do to get… unhypnotized?” she asked, “Because that would bring me back, right?”

Raphael nodded. “I think so.” Again he thought for a moment, then suggested: “I could link our minds and see if I can wake you.”

Hesitatingly she nodded. She was pretty uncomfortable with someone poking around in her mind, especially someone of Raphael's calibre. But she wanted to return home as fast as possible and hopefully in one piece. “Alright. Please try,” she agreed.

She felt a tingle in the back of her head as Raphael's presence gently pushed inside her head, filled her thinking and a shiver ran down her spine when his calm and deep mental voice murmured: 'Relax. Think of your home. Remember, this is not real, this is but a daydream. Remember where you are and what you are doing. Good. Hold that thought.' She relaxed and did as he told, relished in the feel of his strong mind guiding hers.

'And on the count of three you open your eyes and are back where you belong. Ready? One… two… three.'

She opened her eyes and blinked. Gone was the campfire, and gone were the three protagonists of her novel in the making. She became aware she was still standing in the kitchen, staring forlornly into her mug. “That was the weirdest daydream I've ever had,” she mused. “Wish it was real though. Oh, well.” She shrugged and took a huge sip of her tea. It had become too strong and had already gone cold. She downed it nonetheless, put the teapot on again and flip-flopped back to her desk where she opened the manuscript to her novel in the making. This incident had really put her in the good mood to work on the story again…