Caught Between Worlds
1st Entry Amethyst
If you asked me two years ago where I would be, I would have said Cambridge University, studying Medicine. Instead, I was advised that I needed to broaden my horizons, and was told I was going to University of the Midwest. I heard from one of the staff that it was hoped I would get my nose out of the books, draw me out of my shell and actually kick up my heels; sending me to a school out of the country was supposed to eliminate the concern of image or class.
Jacob Abernathy at the Embassy said that Midwest was quite the party school and it had created a stir back home that Viscount St. Augustine would send any of his children to such a school, even an adopted one such as me. I refrained from advising Master Abernathy that he was being a pompous twat.
I have to admit that I was dubious about an Esoteric Mythology class being on my semester’s docket as I’m here for the medical program, but after much reflection, I realized that mythology creates a belief system, which could affect healing and health. According to my roommate, my explanation came out as, “blah, blah-blah, blah”. Bloody music students.
So I head to class, and am promptly reminded of exactly how “special” this school is. The professor isn’t even there. Seems he wanted to play hide and seek, bollocks if you ask me. Anyway, the room we end up in looks like it could double for an interrogation room, and the only thing in there is a table, and huge, moldy-smelling book. It was awkward being in that room. Four (five?) men and one other woman in there besides myself; the young lady seems nice – a little odd, because she has some mannerisms… But I am not to judge on such things. One of the gentlemen I’m not sure I want to get on the bad side of, I think he knows how to kill people with his pinkies, while another one seems like he sleeps with books… really odd books. The third one has business written all over him, a real James Bond kind of guy, but all about the espionage, not the ladies – I don’t think he’s smiled yet. The fourth gent, I am not sure if I have seen him sober; he could probably get conned into buying a bridge in the desert, if it was made of cannabis.
I remember the book getting opened, but then, we weren’t in Midwest anymore, Toto. This Oz, it’s what the Americans would call, “the suck” as it seems to have issues with tectonic activity and oversized millipedes. I always heard stories about “the earth opened up and swallowed people whole” and thought it was tripe. It really isn’t and time really does slow in those instances. What was tripe was the hole that opened up under me was going to suck up the Bookworm too, and I saw it… he actually pondered and opted to use both hands to stop his own fall, leaving me to my own demise… git.
I fell into a glade, the kind of stuff fairy tales are written about. Lush grass, rare beautiful flowers, it was very calming. There must have been strange pollen or spores in the air, because a beautiful woman stepped into the glade. She could have doubled for a bag lady, with all the pouches and plants about her, but she was just too stately. I confess to being quite traumatized, as she hugged me. Not just touched, but hugged. It was a tortured mixture of being mortified, and comforted all at once. The English don’t hug! Then she sent me on my way. I’d like to say my athleticism helped me out, but the plants and roots and… things helped me out of the hole I fell in.
Once I surfaced, I really wanted to go back to the glade. There was a giant dead millipede creature, the special agent gentleman had a huge piece of metal for a shield, the poster boy for sobriety decided he was the Clan Master and had a talking rock that liked being touched, Bookworm had a book that wrote about us, scary gent had a gash on his leg, and a red glowing sword (which talked, but I’m chalking that up to PTSD and ignoring the fact that we all hear it). The other young woman seemed to be happily stunned; I can only imagine how I looked. Since I had medical training, I went over to check Scary’s wound. As I was inspecting it, it closed, without evidence. I’m proud to say I didn’t lose the contents of my stomach.
We left the room, and ended up in a room that taught me thick cobwebs and torches don’t mix, and that is a great way to stir up a spider’s nest. I confess to be uncomfortably disturbed at that point, not because of the spiders, but because Bookworm and the other girl…they play with fire… without matches… or fuel… or burn marks on their skin… and I would be remiss in pointing out that Bookworm’s fire… green. Need I say more? Evidently there was a chest that contained items, none that were any real use for me. Why I ended up with the vials of perfume, I have no idea. I’ve dissected cadavers, I’ve seen skeletons. But they were inanimate, on an examining table. What we came across next nearly set me daft. A room full of them, moving and stumbling… who knew, corpses really do shamble. More fire, green and normal, the sword started glowing again, and there was much havoc. When it was over, Agent Shield was severely torn up, I wasn’t sure I could fix him, glowing hands or not. The other young woman, turns out she had some way to help me, and we revived him. I have never felt so drained, but now I understand now why I wanted to get into medicine.
We made our way outside, and I’ve never been so glad to see stars. It’s all very short-lived, because there is something disturbing about relaxing in the light of the moon, and seeing it looks very much like Earth. So instead I study my large wooden club, which became pleasantly moss-covered when I held it, while I write this odd adventure down. I suppose it could qualify as starting a journal; funny thing is I gave that practice up when I stopped believing in magic – looks like I’ll be starting both up again after today.