As the elf was leaving, he stopped by Duncan’s table.

“Good evening. Let me introduce myself. I am Elland Greenwood, the local potioneer. If you are ever in need of any potions do stop by,” he introduced himself with quite a feminine voice.

“Good evening. Duncan Russel. I mean I am Duncan Russel,” Duncan replied flustered.

“I see,” the elf replied with an overbearing attitude.

“Is a potioneer the same as an alchemist?” Duncan asked.

Elland’s mood suddenly worsened.

“That is like comparing a blacksmith to a jeweler. Like comparing someone who paints walls to an artist painter. There is an art to making potions the alchemists will never understand. Goodbye!” he replied and briskly left for the door.

“Don’t mind him. He has been uptight since he was born 400-something years ago,” Wazsh replied before picking up the dirty dishes.

“Follow me. I will show you your room,” he said before leaving for the door behind the bar counter.

Duncan followed through the kitchen area to another door which led to a hallway with another door and a set of stairs.

“This door leads to the backyard where I grow my vegetables. Your room is on the second floor on the left. On the right is a bathroom and the one in the middle is my room,” Wazsh explained as they started walking up the stairs.

Soon they reached the door to Duncan’s room. Wazsh opened it and welcomed Duncan inside with a gesture of his hand. There was a bed and a closet. Also, a nightstand and a mirror but not much else.

“Your time when you can go back should arrive soon. IF you need anything else let me know. Good night,” Wazsh said before he yawned and left.

“Good night,” Duncan replied before he sat on the bed.

“This is all. Ughhh. Weird and normal at the same time. Wake up Duncan already,” he muttered.

He thought about going home and a window popped up.

[Time off; 25 minutes left. ]

Depart

[YES] - [NO]

He mentally clicked on the yes button and the world spun. For a second, he was feeling nauseous but then quickly recovered. Duncan found himself laying on his stomach at the entrance of his tiny apartment with the front door open. His face was on top of his shoes and his nose was inside one of them. It smelled of sweat. He grunted as he picked himself up and closed the front door.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Like I thought it must have been the painkillers,” he exclaimed as he observed the now pristinely white T-shirt and sweatpants with no bloody marks and puncture holes.

As he walked a few steps to the bathroom, he noticed that the ankle was not bothering him anymore. The pain had vanished. He dismissed the notion of it being healed with the notion that he was still full of painkillers and that it was normal to feel numb.

Turning on the light he went to the wash basin to wash his face with cold water to wake himself up some more. What he saw in the mirror rang some alarm bells. From the forehead to his cheeks and also the shoulders of his T-Shirt were bloody.

He quickly washed his face and tried to locate the wound and there was not any. There was no blood on his hair so the wound must be on his face but there just was none to be found.

“What the -BLEEP-. Aaaargh,” Duncan exclaimed.

He held his hands on the washbasin’s sides as the current of the punishment washed over him.

“There are two explanations. This is a dream within a dream or this is… -BLEEPi-ng REAL,” Duncan exclaimed as he evaluated his predicament. He took off his T-Shirt and plugged the washbasin and used some soap to remove the blood.

“What the… -BLEEP-, am I doing? Priorities Duncan. Priorities.”, he yelled at himself for being a dunce.

He went back to his computer and unplugged his phone that was perpetually in charging mode and checked the time.

“6.13 PM. Mom should be at home,” he muttered before he dialed her number.

“Hello, Duncan. It was about time you gave me a call,” his mother Jessica answered.

“Hi, Mom. Sorry, I have been busy these past few days,” he lied since all he was doing was playing that stupid game.

“Are you feeling OK? Is your ankle still hurting a lot?” she asked.

“No. The ankle seems to be doing a lot better actually,” he said as he wiggled his right foot unconsciously in the air.

“I am so glad. I have been worried the way you described the accident there would be permanent damage. When will you come to visit?” his mother repeated the question she asked every time he gave her a call.

There was a bit of a pause in the conversation as Jessica patiently waited for the new excuse, he will come up with for not visiting.

“You know with my accident I don’t have a lot of extra money so it will take me a while to get back on my feet…” he started explaining.

“If it’s about the money I can cover the cost of the train ticket or the flight if you would prefer to fly,” she offered.

“Mom, you know you need the money or they will claim what little we have left,” Duncan replied in frustration.

“I know. I just want to see you again. It has been so long and you won’t give me your address or I would make the trip myself,” she replied.

Duncan went quiet remembering all the shit they have been through after his father died and he was incarcerated. Between the medical fees and lawyer fees, they lost their house and their car. His mother was forced to move into a trailer. She still worked as a teacher and worked as a tutor after her regular job to help pay off their debt.

He sent her money whenever he could, feeling guilty for causing even more trouble when there was already an overwhelming amount but with his record and job experience, he could get only the lowest paying jobs if any.

“I promise I will come as soon as I can. Take care. I have to go now. Love you,” he said.

“Love you too Duncan,” she said in resignation and hung up.

He was breathing heavily. First of all, because of talking with his mother brought back memories, and second because it almost confirmed what he feared.

“The other world is REAL!” he exclaimed and threw himself on the bed face down.