While some people say describing a scene as “It was a dark and stormy night” is overdone, when there is no other way to describe the scene it's quite fitting. And so on this dark and stormy night in Sydney Australia, Michael Hayes was walking to his car, parked under a tree.
He had just completed a St John event in Sydney Olympic Park, volunteering as First Aid at events is fun but some of these events go on for ages. Like this indoor gymnastics competition that has gone on for 12 hrs straight and Michael had been there the whole 12 hrs to get his numbers up as he needs to do at least 60 hrs in a year. It's finally finished and after saying goodbye to his friends and the organiser who came by to say thanks he heads to his car.
The sky is overcast with lightning and thunder sounding off quickly, the storm is right overhead. Probably not a good idea to park under a tree he thinks. Luckly it's late and while he's tired, home is not far away.
He nears the tree. First Aid bag held tight to his overweight chest, hunched over the umbrella to protect the accident forms that need to be handed in while awkwardly patting his pockets for his keys, he feels the hairs on his neck stand at attention. And just like a bolt of lightning a sound strikes! Lightning has struck a light post at the other end of the carpark. Bright, blinding white as the rain picks up.
Startled Michael drops the bag “Oh crap that’s not good” and immediately starts to jog back toward the building entrance where he can see some of the other First Aiders from the late shift waving him over to come inside, water splashing and drenching through his green uniform.
As he nears the doors, no more than 10 metres away he feels it again, that charge in the air. Lightning will strike any secon… It strikes, Michael was still carrying his umbrella. Close to him to help keep the rain off not thinking it could draw the lightning despite talking about it earlier that day when the storm came in.
The only thing that Michael feels is the sharp pain of every muscle contracting at once before the light disappears, the only sound he would have heard was the crack of thunder and the screams of people… Michael has died.
Waking up, Michael was feeling like crap… Like all his energy was taken from him, every atom in his body was screaming out in pain at the wrongness. Groggily he cracks open an eye, covered in sleep and feeling cold water from a damp cloth on his head move down his face he sees, not his bedroom, not a hospital or ordinary roof but. A wooden roof? With rounded beams like the inside of a log cabin.
Using all his meagre strength to turn his head to the side, looking toward a wooden door cracked open and a mug of hopefully water sitting at the bedside table he tries to move his arm but no luck. Even turning his head is too much for him. “Where the hells am I?” he thinks, “I was just at the Gymnastics event… I don’t remember anything after saying goodbye. I need to get someone's attention.” Taking in a deep breath, shallow compared to what he's used to, he lets it out to softly moan in the direction of the door he’s still facing.
There’s someone there! The soft patter of feet running on wood turns out to be a small child, no more than 14 or 15? I’m not sure, wearing a un-collared white shirt that's been dirtied by dirt probably. “Maybe he doesn't realise I’m awake.” he thinks and lets out another soft and laboured moan.
“Eidiue!, Ebo!, sni eiueiei ebtrou yii einiiwaiwinuili!” Well, that’s not English. Where the hell am I?
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At the kids calling Michael hears a door open and in from another room or outside rushes in two older people, probably parents to the kid. I’m horrible at guessing ages so I’m gonna say they are in their 40s until they or someone tells me otherwise. All three have almost similar features making me think they are either a family or related in some way with all of them having a white tanned skin, brown hair (greying at the edges for the guy who's also in a white shirt but much dirtier) and tall with sharp, fit faces and frames. The adults are at or over 6ft, at least from this angle I think, it's hard to tell.
Immediately the woman, dressed in a blue gown that wouldn’t look out of place in some of those old 18th century photos of the average person hurries over, lifts my head up and places the mug to my mouth. Yes! Water! Cool and refreshing like nothing else, my body thirsting for it like I've lived in a desert all my life and never saw a drop of that glorious, amazing water!
As I drink she quickly pulls it away to stop me, miming to take small sips and saying “Jajsk skau kiiaascr yf okuwi aiilu aifrei cryp ouze ub ghki neq! uwi yp, uiior vev iebrie.”
I have no clue what shes saying by I can guess by the miming to take sips only, taking only a small sip she nods and sets me down saying to the man
“Dxj equba oiaki Kiiref Rath, holdibyl einiiwaiwinuili yp opku onkipeta sskkii iiukuiuaki. Opku pniki ypue scvo, holdibyl oyna opku skipeta!”
“Uwi, aidy oebi ski ila”. And at that he leaves, wonder what he's doing. More importantly I just realised something. Why am I not freaking out? Like I’m at Olympic Park and now here, something screwy is going on and I’m obviously not ok so why am I here?
The kid whispers something to mum(?) and she nods, letting him come closer. With the water making things easier to speak a little I say in a very sore tone. “Hi”
He obviously is not expecting this as he immediately jumps bringing a smile to my lips with mum letting out a little giggle. Next she says something else while bringing out a square mirror.
“Dxj ouilidepe aifrei vev Kiiref, eiku sni yckap aifrei thla iiiler cri oatre uiogo dxwoi. Ub aika tkikipeta equoi oebi iiwukiopte ila. Equi aifrei ieiili cri pniki ypue satni?” Ending the sentence with a gesture to the mirror, ah asking if I want a look? I nod and…
Hey I nodded, I’m getting somewhere now! Next thing you know I will stand up and… Or so I thought, my thoughts interrupted by seeing my reflection in the mirror. I’m… thin, like horror movie, concentration camp thin. I can almost see each bone and tendon, my face is as sunken as a shipwreck and my hair and nails are, paradoxically normal length. Ok either I thinned out and kept the same hair and nail length or someones been cutting them. Again, why am I so calm?
She’s about to say something after seeing my widening eyes but hears the door opening again from the other room. As us three turn to face the door a familiar man comes into sight. The guy who just left is back with another guy in fancy looking robes and yet another in a grey coat and bag appear behind him.
“Acesopeta blu oucr carai maiodepe ypue sni cioiniki, oucr crix aiphei oecas qy planuhaz so.” says the father gesturing to the two of them. Both giving a friendly wave with mum saying something under breath. Probably that was quick or something…
Pulling the kid aside and letting them in, the guy with the bag comes right up and starts looking over me. Upon closer looking that cloak of his is filled to the brim with tools, what they are or what they do I’ve got no clue. He's similar to the family, (very sure they are a family now) with a slightly lighter tanned skin and a bit less fit but similar features. It's the other guy in the fancy robes that's the outlier.
Short blond/grey hair with glasses, pale skin like he would get sunburnt via candle and an light brown librarian looking robe, faded in spots. Almost like a kimono, while the cloak guy is bent over me, the robe guy stands at the end of the bed and looks right at me.
After a head twitch that looked like a nervous tick he smiles and says in a very rough version of English. “Hello Michael, my name is Abcier. A local priest of Knowledge, you must have several questions but don't be alarmed. All will be answered once you are well enough to talk and stand once the doctor is finished with you. Oh and also, magic is real here.”