Fateful words, “I Wish”. If heard by the right deity it can make your wish come true. If heard by the wrong one…well…you ever heard the story of the Jinn that grants wishes with horrible consequences? Sort of the same thing.
I hate to admit this, I especially hate to admit this on to a written document. But I’m a fan girl. Not only a fan girl but a fan fiction writing fan girl. Self-inserts, mirroring Mary Sues, Slash- they’re just a few of what I’ve written, never published onto the world wide net, however. I’m not that bold. You know the saying ‘Fortune favors the bold’? Definitely not me. Nope.
I was just in a little café, laptop on hand, writing another chapter to the epic I had started three years ago and am still adding onto. Again, all of it stored onto my computer or external hard drive. Never shared with anyone. I was sipping my Double Chocolate Chip Frappaccino when I was faced with a bit of a bind. I wasn’t connected to the internet, no nearby library at hand and I was curious about the social interactions of the military and upper class of the 17th century. Research for part of the epic I mentioned earlier, Pirates of the Caribbean if you were curious, before, during and after the movies.
I had muttered the fateful words that sent me to hell a few hours later. “I wish I could see what it was like back then, with these characters, to observe.”
The winds must have carried my words to a trickster god. Loki, Coyote, Raven, Puck, Strife. They must have heard it and decide to have a little fun at my expense.
‘How do you know they exist?’ you ask? Because I’ve felt them, caught glimpses of them from the corner of my eye during my time in hell. Felt their touch of power. Yes…that touch, too.
Why am I writing this down? Because I don’t want to make the same mistake twice, they’ve all got an eye on me, with little spies listening to everything I say. Waiting to catch me saying something that would benefit them.
I had just finished the chapter I was working on, after muttering my sentence and had packed up my computer, content with how the story was working out. I never set a plot outline, I always feel it hinders me, stopping the flow of words to come out of their own accord. I put my laptop in my backpack and took the bus home, back to my small apartment. It was sparsely furnished with just a loveseat in front of a used entertainment center that I had found out on a curb. Did I forget to mention that I don’t make all that much money?
The living room and the kitchen flow into each other, I was lucky that the complex provided each space with it’s own dishwasher and washer/dryer. It worked for my little homebody self. I worked evenings, just long enough for me to earn enough money for rent and food and a monthly bus pass. I bought my clothing from thrift stores, second hand shops as well as clearance stores.
I have been reading books and writing since I was old enough to form the words together with paper and pencil. Those writings I tore up whenever I go thru my old things. My reading and writing level increased over the years. I had stopped attending college when I found out that I had no financial way to attend. That did not stop me from reading and writing. I got my laptop from my successful computer savy brother, he got a job with a top name company and they gave him a company computer. He felt sorry for me and gave me his old one. It works for what I do, and he got me an external hard drive for my birthday, when I complained that I didn’t have enough hard drive space to continue my writings.
He’s a sweet guy, my brother. I’m rambling, I know, but you have to understand me and my situation before I take you on the journey with me.
My little apartment has one bedroom and one bathroom. I have a little bed (read: twin size) and it’s fine for me, not like I’m extroverted anyway. I’m what you would call a nerd, glasses and all. And if you’re really that interested in my body shape, I’m pudgy, not fat, pudgy. Like Renaissance paintings pudgy, only with slightly bigger boobies. I had a small table in my bedroom which was allotted solely for the laptop and hard drive. It was pretty utilitarian. I didn’t need much, I have a TV and DVD player (again thrift store) and had a bit of DVDs (thanks, again, to my brother) and all of them I had written fan fiction on.
I sighed as I walked in the door and locked it behind me. I gently put my backpack down in the middle of the living room floor and I eased my body onto the loveseat, my legs hanging over the armrest. I had three hours before I had to catch the bus and head to work. I decided to take a little nap and got myself to my bed and set the alarm before I zonked out. I decided to keep my shoes on and slept over the covers (thrift store!) with my arm over my eyes, careful not to squish my glasses into my face.
I slept quite well. Unfortunately it wasn’t the alarm that woke me up. It was the knock at the door, I consciously ignored it. The knock came again with a man on the other side, what woke me up completely was the feminine answer that came from the left of me. I sat straight up, I fought the vertigo and got up, watching the honey blond woman pull on a flowery sleeping coat before bidding the man enter.
“Who are you?” I asked at the woman’s back. She ignored me.
“Still abed at this hour?” The man asked as he entered. He was wearing a gray wig.
A maid threw open the curtain and I was greeted with a beautiful view of a bay. I got a closer look at the people, the woman was now behind a screen and being placed in a corset. I saw her face and recognized her immediately as Elizabeth Swann. I looked out the window again and realized it was a view of a very Caribbean island. Port Royal to be exact. I watched as a footman entered and bid the Governor to a visitor.
“Wait!” I cried out. “What about me?” Again, I was ignored. I was finding something fairly odd and it started to fill me with dread. I followed the Governor closely as he greeted a blacksmith. William Turner.
“Can you see me? Can you hear me?” I asked him. Again, I was ignored.
Elizabeth came down the stairs in that stunning dress and I was not even acknowledged.
“I had a dream about you…” Elizabeth started.
“Hello! Standing right here!” I screamed. I got no reaction.
I screamed in horror when I moved to block the door way and they had just walked thru me, like I was made of air. I screamed and screamed and cried. Then screamed some more. I did it for approximately ten minutes when I felt a brush of warm air behind me. I spun around and saw nothing.
“Oh, good. You’ve stopped screaming.” A voice whispered. Not really in my ear. More in my head. I whimpered.
“Oh, don’t start! I’ve come to answer your questions…to a degree.” I could feel the voice grin at me.
“What happened to me?” I rasped.
“Your wish came true.” I could feel a tinge of malice. “You were brought here to observe.”
“Why can’t they see me? Hear me?” I knew the answer, but I wanted it confirmed.
“You said ‘observe’ not ‘interact’ you cannot observe if you interrupt their lives.” The voice chuckled.
“Who are you?” Again I felt the voice grin.
“It’s for me to know and you to find out.”
“Wait! What do I do now?!”
Another chuckle. “Observe.”