„Everyone has a story to tell. Everybody will tell it sooner or later, for a different purpose. And some stories are not just like the others. Let me tell you one of those. Story of mine, yet not about me. Story about a girl brave enough to deserve her own one.“
I suddenly understood why Phillip didn’t want me to pack up anything. I also began to suspect that I won’t be home till midnight. If ever.
There were scent of roses, fish, fresh bread in the air, mixing together. All senses went crazy. If I couldn’t have been concentrating to anything, now my attention ran in all directions. Noise around me was loudest than my thoughts, eager buyers have been turning me aside from one corner to another. While I had no idea where to look first, rest of the world didn’t seem aware of my existence at all. I was making my way through dense crowd heading the opposite direction until I was finally able to outran last people with wicker baskets in their hands.
Agonizing pain in head prevented me from thinking clearly. Where should I go? What did Phillip say? I tried to remember. Throbbing pain in the temples hadn’t stopped not even when entered empty street , leaning against the cold wall. I was hot. It wasn’t August, nor July, though. Perhaps late spring. Blooming flowers sold few meters away by little woman agreed with me. She has some mud on her face. I took off my sweater and started to hold it tightly, until my fingers turned white. I closed my eyes. I was back home, laying on the bed. Who knows how much time has passed since then? My thoughts were still blurry. I wanted to remember, I truly did. Nothing came. I ran out of street. Right or left? It seemed like the time I didn’t know if Phillip wants to take the bus or subway. He didn’t choose either. We could have gone by subway, I wanted to buy weekly ticket anyway.
Come on, focus. I went right. After few meters I realized that the rush of the market ceased. After another, I could only hear a few street artist, debugging their instruments. Heels on the tiled pavement dangerously echoed. Two or three people gave me look Brandice wouldn’t be ashamed of.
I noticed a showcase full of golden bracelets, earrings and tiaras. According to giant door, heavy handle and ample offer, the shop was in age of its greatest glory. There was only one word written with fresh paint on the board above the doors. „Bijoux“. I shook my head to destroy my own thought. It seemed too impossible to me. Yet it was about to confirmed its own bizarreness in half a minute. I walked out of narrow streets to an open area. Unlike the market square, this was almost empty. An exception was made by few workers.
I gazed to one of the most recognizable construction in the world. Tower, that had been standing proudly in two thirds of its future height. Eiffel Tower.
A SHORT COMMENT OF THE AUTHOR AT THE END…
There is this situation. It could happen to any of you, so you better pay attention. Imagine your life-time guard knocking on your door, bringing you back to past. Meet your younger twin sister, yet two years older than you. Playing with time should be fun. But is it, is it really? Perhaps Aerius, the monarch of secret empire, hidden from ordinary people since medieval ages could tell you. But he won’t, because he is dead. Along with 12 of his scholars, killed by Luciann, misunderstood student planning to overtake the world. Too bad he isn’t the only bad guy in your story. Oh, and about that overtaking, I was just kidding. All he wants is immortality recipe, written in a book he happened to stole during his slaughter. You better stop him, right? Be prepared for adventure you are not going to forget anytime soon. One hint for you. It wasn’t the Gardener…
And if you’re lucky, you’ll get answer to ultimate question. Is immortality a gift, or is it a damnation?
Alica Sakmarová, 3.C