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A Whole New World
Sighing, I throw my backpack onto the ground before flopping onto my bed. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to figure out what the heck to do with myself now. Spring break with nowhere to be, no one to see, nothing to do. An idea pops into my head. Why not try to write? I roll off my bed and pull out my desk chair, a piece of paper and my pen. I perch on the very edge of my chair, like I always do when I think. Quickly, I begin to write, hearing nothing but the scratching of my pen against the paper.
Everything is bright, colors are everywhere, bees abuzz with activity and birds chirping with glee. I push aside giant leaves that hang in the way of the path in which I have begun to follow. I don't know where I'm going and I don't know why or how I got here, but I keep walking anyway. Hummingbirds flit by me, zooming in front of me, weaving in and out of tall, moss covered trees that reach up into the sky. I enter a clearing where I find an even more stunningly impossible sight.
White horses with spiral horns protruding from their foreheads walk to and from different paths. I cover my mouth to prevent from screaming when one comes from right behind me, only briefly looking at me before continuing on into the little village I seem to have stumbled upon. Small houses dot the clearing with mushroom shaped roofs, each just as bright and colorful as the last. Red topped toadstools grow like weeds, with little creatures that resemble dragonflies.
One flies swiftly by me, abruptly stopping and turning back to examine me. I realize they're not dragonflies at all, but small fairies. She's beautiful up close, a chiseled pale face, bright blue eyes and small pink lips. Her hair is blond and wild, and she is dressed in a pale blue, glitter covered gown. Her wings reflect the sunlight and move at the speed of a hummingbird's. She smiles at me and reaches out her arms to me. I hold up my hand and she lands, her tiny feet tickling my palm. She is only the size of my middle finger, but when I look around, I notice they're everywhere.
This is a land that I've only ever seen in fairy tale stories, one I only thought existed strictly on the pages of a book. The fairy takes flight again, tugging on my index finger for me to follow her. I go willingly, stepping around toadstools and unicorns, small elves that have busied themselves with building and repairing the small houses. The little fairy leads me out of the village and into yet another clearing only full of vegetation. She motions for me to lie down, so I slide down the truck on a tree and rest my head on a low toadstool watching her flitting around the clearing, collecting big leaves and other brush.
Soon, she's built me a small hut, but something tells me it's only temporary. She darts off and returns with three other fairies to help her carry the large blanket she's brought me from the village. She nods to me, as if telling me she'll be back when the sun rises again. As the sun drops below the horizon, I snuggle beneath the thick blanket and watch the smoke rise from the chimneys of the village's cottages. I fall asleep quickly, too comfortable in my minute-made hut to stay up any longer. I shut my eyes listening to the small snorts of the unicorns and dwindling activity of the elves.
When I wake the next morning, I find myself covered with the thick blanket and surrounded by the greens of the mythical forest. I can see the village waking up, the elves hauling grasses and grains for the unicorns into a stable that I could've sworn wasn't there yesterday. I throw off the blanket and wander back into the village, rubbing sleep from my eyes. As I blink myself awake, I realize that something is strange. Looking around, I see everything I'd written about last night...
The little fairy I created zooms over to me, chirping merrily and flying circles around me. She puts a quiet hand on my cheek, which is only the size of one of my freckles that reside there. I smile at her and whisper, "This is real." She bounces up and down in the air and twirls around, setting her dress aglow. "I made this?"
Unicorns and elves surround me, cheering me on in some unknown language that I can only understand parts of. Somehow, last night, I'd actually become a part of my own words. And as far as I know, there's no way back.
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How a writer can literally be transported into their writing.