The explosions continued to deafen me as I ran faster and faster. The last time I ran this fast must have been in PT class before I dropped out. I kept swearing at the monsters who laid down these painful looking traps all over the forest as I dodged the swinging traps miserably. Each time I failed to avoid a booby trap, I winced and bit down a scream. After all, what if my screams don’t attract help but the opposite.

Where am I for such gruesome methods of war to be used? I thought.

I looked around but there were only greens. Trees that reached the sun probably. I watched a drop of my blood fall onto the luscious, fresh and ginormous leaf at my feet.

Complementary colours. I muttered to myself as I visualised those colours used in a tableau of a family celebrating Christmas together. Opening gifts to which children sat in awe, thanking Santa while the adults whispered between themselves how much they enjoyed their precious kids’ reactions. I would love to paint such a moment but my family wouldn’t. They don’t tolerate christmas.

Still, I would have loved to write a story about a character celebrating Christmas with her family. Actually, that scene would be at the END of the story as a happy ending. It wouldn’t be nice if the character already had what she wanted at the start of it.

Coming back to reality, I clenched my bag sprinting as fast as I could despite my legs feeling like they were being pulled towards so many directions that they’d burst before I could have taken another step. Slowly, I saw a bright flash of light coming in between the slender trees. I stared at the focal point of what I was looking at as I slowed down. I realised that the sounds of the explosions had died long ago as I was dodging the traps all around me. Walking towards the light, I imagined grids over what I was looking at. The light was at the exact centre. I pulled my camera out of my bag to capture this view.

After taking a quick picture, I put the camera back in my bag as I walked towards the light, noticing buildings emerging into view. I checked inside my bag for my phone. Great, it’s lost.

The longer I walked, the more it seemed that the crowding increased. My injuries were starting to get to me as I stumbled and accidentally bumped into a man.

“Sorry, sorry. You see, I just–” I repeated as I nervously tried to explain my situation.

“Watch it.” The tall man warned as he walked away.

No doubt about it. This man, however different he looked, with such colourful hair and clothing and a slender body, he looked the exact opposite of me. Yet, I could understand his words.

“Excuse me,” I called out to him in hopes he’ll understand me. The guy sighed before turning to me.

“What?”

“Sorry but I am injured quite badly. Do you know if there are any hospitals or police stations nearby?”

“What?” he asked with his eyes widening.

“You know, hospitals or police stations?” I repeated. To my surprise, he scoffed and ignored me, walking away. Still needing help, I followed him to pester him again.

“I really need help. Do you know ANY place where I can get my injuries treated or atleast get some help?” I said a bit more firmly this time.

“Look here. All those places you just mentioned are something from a kid’s book.” He stared into my eyes before shoving me to the floor to get along with his day.

What a jerk. Standing back up, as I looked up to the sky complaining to myself, I noticed an enormous building almost resembling a palace. Actually, less medieval-y and more modern-y. I approached a kinder and less busy looking individual and inquired about the cool structure.

The elderly woman looked at me like I was stupid. A bit nicer than the other person, she simply spewed a few insults as she informed me that the building was in the ownership of the ‘manufacturer’ who seemed to be of high importance.

“You see all these little fries rushing to somewhere?” She questioned. Without receiving an answer, she continued. “They all fight in the war of the other land. All for him. He produces everything these fries use to make what they need. In my days, we didn’t need some ‘manufacturer’ to provide us with half broken, quality-less…” she rambled on although I stopped listening half way.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

So he is somewhat of a king or a prime minister? It seems I need to approach him for help.

“This is the biggest war the Gontam has had in forever.” The old woman mentioned.

“Gontam? Is that the name of this place? Do you have a phone or something so–”

“You don’t know what the Gontam is?” She interrupted, surprised. As I shook my head, she looked at me with a look of disgust and disappointment.

“It is the planet we live on for god’s sake. Did they not teach you this in your days?”

At this point, I was confused about everything. A different planet? What does she mean ‘my days’? If this WAS a different planet, could the things I know even be applied here?

My thought process was interrupted by a loud alarm. Everyone started to run towards a single direction.

“It looks like they are calling people to fight again. I get to do whatever I want though. I am well past my age to fight for the country,” The old woman bragged.

Maybe I could get more information if I followed everyone. I began to follow the crowd slowly.

I ended up with the crowd before a stage? It doesn’t look like a real stage but it has stairs to get on the platform to give a speech so I would call it a stage. It’s more of just a cone with a smooth platform for one person.

I feel someone grab my shoulder and I turn around to face an old looking man. But the strength he used to grab my shoulder was enough to let me know he was strong.

“How old are you, brat?”

“17, sir” I said without thinking. His face furrowed its eyebrows and the ends of his lips started to point down. Holding me by the back of my neck, he pushed me through the crowd.

“Where are you taking me!? Help!” I screamed as loud as I could. Grabbing peoples’ clothes and hands, trying to escape from the man’s hands, I tried everything I could. In the end, all that happened was he pushed me inside a house built right next to the ‘stage’.

I stared at the colourful wall and decorations as I gave up on trying to escape by now. The man pushed me to the ground as he knelt down to tie me up to a table and snatched my bag away from me, throwing it aside on the floor in a distance I couldn’t reach.

“Stay here till the end.” He said as he left the house.

The end? MY end or the end of whatever announcement that’s going on? Whatever the ‘end’ is, I should still try to escape.

I sat there trying to think of a way to escape. The table is too heavy to move. It would be better to just try to rip the ropes instead. My eyes wandered across the room for objects I could reach. Who keeps a house THIS empty and clean? I looked around as I saw that there wasn’t a single piece of furniture other than the heavy, huge table I was tied to. Could there be objects that could help on the other side of one of those doors? Realising I couldn’t reach the rooms either way, I slumped onto the table.

Something sitting on top of the table rolled off and fell next to me. A vase? A liquid touched my feet. Taking my attention back to the vase, I used my legs to move the vase towards me and smashed it. Passing a sharp piece of it from my legs to my hands, I began to tear the rope that was binding me to the table.

Excited, I failed to notice one of the doors opening. “Who’s there?” A voice of a young man called out. The second I looked up at him, he looked at me with his eyes wide. Bright pink hair, his suit colourful with silver jewellery adorning his outfit. “You–” he started, although cut off by the front door swinging wide open.

The man who put me in this situation strutted in with a taller, older man. Slender, colourful like all the others but had more of a dazzling look. “What is going on?” The mysterious man demanded to know what was happening.

“Hi?”

The man inspected the room, looking at the pool of liquid at my feet, the sharp object in my hand aiding in my escape, the young man who had just walked out of the other room. He sighed in frustration, “Great! Now I have to send TWO of you back to the workshop.”.

I didn’t understand what he meant.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t think I’m supposed to be here. I need help getting to where I’m from. This place isn’t my hometown and–” I began.

“He’s lying–” I heard the young man start.

“Sorry, can you let me SPEAK!?”

“QUIET!” the old man yelled.

“–because he looks exactly like the main character of the novel ‘An Author Who Shares’. Only published in this city. He must have read it, to somehow dress and style exactly like him.”

“How would you know!? It’s a book!”

“I wrote the book. I know how I described my main character.”

“Could be a COINCIDENCE!”

“And has the exact same customised emblem on his bag as illustrated in the novel? I don’t think so.” he picked up my bag lying near his foot to prove his point.

“You mean a logo?”

“That’s what I call it in the book. A logo doesn’t exist in real life.”

Am I really just the product of this guy’s word vomit on a few pieces of paper?