I always thought it should go without saying that many historians and scholars construct fantasy worlds out of thin air. It's magical. Day in and day out, from study to study, many of said historians and scholars withdraw from comfy writing posts or any form of writing location to show our world proof of fantasy. It all starts in our past, said Thomas, a historian living in a coastal city in north california.
I was a small child during my first carnival. Balloons would pop constantly as kids toss darts at colourful walls. Stray dogs would bark nonstop. Clowns would try to implant awful visions in my mind by following my cousin and I down shadowy hallways of a spooky mansion, dark clouds rolling across a dark sky through high windows. My cousin Andy, who was surprisingly tall, said that all carnivals in north california start on Mondays and finish on saturdays. It was a rhythmic occassion. Six days long and attracting tons of city-folk to calm and rural grasslands, carnivals had such a distinct way of gaining popularity. Kids from as far away as Portland and San Francisco would zoom down highways in daddy's fast and luxurious cars to grab hold of any form of thrill around.
Fast forward now to adulthood. My crazy, spiralling path was forming into a distinct vision. I saw things of all forms falling into a rhythm I was comfy with. Going from a parabolic arc of insanity through high school to this classic and historic job wasn't a straight road. I was happy as a historian now. It was my passion.
"Thomas?" Said Andy, frowning and looking out towards a horizon bathing in bright sunlight. "What's going on?
"What was that sound?" I said, turning to that giant glass window. A frightful boom shook my building. I was four floors up.
Shards of glass raining down was a common sight. A mass was plunking down into my stomach. I fought my way to purgatory and back to diminish it. Andy was grabbing my arm, saying that both of us should find a lift down to my main lobby. Hurrying out through a door into a hallway with cracks all along my floor, I found my vision looking at a map showing which way to go. I wasn't too familiar with this building. I only got my historian award not too long ago.
Now in a lift, Andy hit a button with an M on it to bring us towards my lobby. My building was crumbling. I couldn't wait this out. This particular horror was a spark, activating my wondrous ability that lay dormant until now. I was slipping into a void, not knowing If I would avoid mortality. I was moving onward from my ritualistic past and finding innovation amongst my surroundings.
I had wound up in a world far away from my collapsing history building. Or was I far away at all? All my hard work was crashing down and vanishing into thin air was my way of solving it. My dignity was crashing down with it. I had to find a way of moving on.
I was in a colourful room with circular windows on two walls. Through glass I could spot a spongy-looking ground. Am I on a distant moon? I stood upright and could only watch with a frown as a man was uncannily approaching. Looking similar to a clown without a rainbow afro, a formal introduction told my mind that this man was known as Salvador. An artist? Salvador Dali? In this far off world with fantastical inhabitants, anything could look as living as a human back in our Milky way galaxy. How far away was that, though? How many astronomical units? How many stars stood in my way?
"It's truly a thrilling day," said Salvador. Grabbing my hand and taking my body down a shadowy hallway, I was shown into a spacious room. Occupying a smooth rug was a dog that had about six limbs; I found my body turning away so i didn't know if it had six or possibly thirty.
"What is this world?" Said my curious vocal chords. It was bright and colourful and my mind was willing to find out why.
"It's your final location", said a small girl monotonously. Turning around, I was watching as a girl with pigtails and a pink skirt was approaching.
"What?"
"I'm Yolanda... And you know what I just said."
"How did I--?"
"Both your panic and your curiousity brought you to our world," said Yolanda. "And your distinct mind will bring about your downfall."
I was panicking. I had to find. This fantastical world was not what I was anticipating. I was scurrying towards any door I could find. Distant shouting told my mind that Salvador and Yolanda had sprung into action with such hostility.
"I'm just a historian!" I found my lungs shouting. "Don't kill--"
I was back. I saw a colourful lights turning into familiar and dull walls. I was back in that lift with Andy, though my building wasn't shaking. Walking out into my lobby, I thought that Andy should know of my trip into infinity. I was about to inform him, but his swift walking put his body too far away.
"I just want to go, now," Andy said, talking quickly.
"Andy, wait. You gotta know what I just saw."
"Stop it, Thomas. This isn't good for your brain. It's probably not natural."
"I was in a distant world!" I said, catching up to him. A far off galaxy!"
"Stop acting silly, cousin. It was probably just a crazy, lucid fantasy." Andy was turning to walk away. "I think your mind has has an irrational phobia."
A fading glow of sunlight was shining through my building's windows, casting my lobby into a final splash of significant colour. Today was magical, that much was obvious. But today was also frightful.
"It all starts in our past," I said to my shadow.
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