Anton was woken from his dreams by a gentle shaking off his exposed shoulder. Figuring it was his mom trying to urge him out of the bed to start the day he mumbled, “I’ll get up in five more minutes,” and then rolled from his back to his side, snugging the covers up around his chin in the process. The shaking became more insistent.
“Mom…” Exasperated, Anton turned back onto his back, blinked his eyes in confusion, registered that there wasn’t even a hint of daylight pouring through the cracks in the blinds, and finally focused on the dark outline of a shape that was much too tall and much too broad to be his mom. He immediately sat up, a scream on his lips.
“I am not your mom.”
It was a voice he recognized, but a voice he had never heard before. The semi-considered scream vanished as the boy struggled to grab the flashlight out of the top dresser drawer next to his bed. The possibility of danger was replaced by overwhelming excitement. That voice had lived in his head for two years and defying all logic the owner of it was standing next to his bed.
“Anton, we need your help,” the shadowy figure stated just before the child managed to flick on his flashlight. There was no small amount of seriousness and concern behind the spoken words.
With the light switched on, he traced the beam across the floor until it rested on a pair of large feet wrapped in leather sandals. From there, Anton moved the beam up to show muscular legs, a chain-mail skirt, a leather tooled tunic with the emblem of the house of Shohl across the chest, and, finally, the bearded face of Drek, the Dungeons and Dragons warrior he had created and been campaigning with the last two years.
Anton’s jaw dropped and a shiver ran up his spine.
“How…? H-How…? How is this possible?” The twelve year old, though an imaginative and creative child, considered the very likely scenario that something had gone terribly wrong with his mind. His make believe world of wizards and goblins, dragons and mercenaries, could not be real. Should not be real.
Drek reached out and steadied Anton who appeared close to falling out of the bed. The warrior’s features softened, and he smiled at his creator. His words carried no less gravity and that too helped to steady the child, “The ‘how’ isn’t as important as the ‘why.’ Our worlds are colliding, rifts have opened between them and if we don’t do something to stop the process both will be destroyed.”
“How can I help?”
“You are the creator. You are the key.”
Anton slid out of the bed, the flannel pajama pants he was going to grow into covered his exposed feet. He smiled up at Drek, the 6′ 7″ fighter towering over him, and adventure glistened in his eyes. “What are we waiting for then?”
Drek placed one of his massive arms around Anton’s waist and hoisted him up. “Okay Karda, we’re ready.”
Anton’s eyes grew large at the mention of the magician’s name, and his smile grew broader as he faintly heard chanting. The words seemed to swirl around him, coming for every direction and no direction at the same time.
An instant later the warrior and child disappeared from the room, the small flashlight fell softly to the carpeted floor where it’s beam spread out across the room to rest on the assorted posters and knickknacks Anton had plastered on the far wall.
The heroes rushed the battlefield, five against one hundred. Spells were hurled, swords clashed, the ground shook beneath their feet as the two forces engaged. Screams of triumph and pain rent the air.
Anton swung his short sword with his right hand. His small size and superior agility allowing him to dart in and out of the ranks of attacking Fregs. The denizens of the world’s demise were too slow to keep up with his pace. One, two, three, fell beneath his sword as he spun, and twisted, and skipped along. Three more danced in front of his vision and fell just as quickly.
From his peripheral vision he saw that Karda was being overrun. There was only so much she could do with her magic, and she was a much bigger target than Anton. He reached out with his left hand, and with his mind, and shouted the words of sorcery that would fell those closest to her. He felt the surge of energy swell within him and watched with satisfaction as lightening crackled from his finger tips, scorching into the backs and sides of her attackers. Then he ducked and rolled to quickly dodge the next set of blows aimed at him.
Trull and Vrull, the twin dwarves stood guard, as best they could, on either side of Anton. Drek, holding the pole position was the rock that the Fregs were breaking themselves upon as they came forward in wave after wave.
Anton kept holding on to the hope that this would be the final battle, that if they managed to survive the onslaught they would turn the tide and foil Fregian’s plan to destroy the two worlds. They would still need to capture Fregian, of course, and retrieve the Worlner, the device that was causing reality and imagination to collide, but all of the companions were willing to do whatever it took to make sure they reached that goal. The fate of both worlds depended on their success.
His blade flashed out, parrying here, striking there, deflect, dodge, plunge, and on and on. His right arm was a blur of moment. As he could he would assist the others with further spells, but as the battle raged on he was getting wearier and the magic required too much energy to use with any real frequency.
Eventually the companions found themselves back to back, with the last of the Fregs surrounding them.
“Come on then,” Drek growled at the Fregs.
And they did.
Anton’s eyes opened.
Light filtered lazily through the slits in the blinds of his bedroom window. He yawned and stretched and then sat bolt upright in bed.
“How did I get here? Was it all a dream?”
He patted himself down for injuries, for the weapons he had been carrying, for any sign that he hadn’t dreamed the whole ordeal, and all he found was the same flannel pajama pants he’d gone to bed wearing. Disappointed, he frowned and fell back onto his back, his eyes bored through the ceiling.
But, he felt something, he felt a stirring within himself. He could feel that he had changed. He called the words of a spell to mind and was gratified with the instant surge of energy that coursed through his body.
Jumping out of bed he frantically searched his room for anything else, anything he had been able to bring back with him, nearly tripping on the flashlight that had been left on all night in the middle of the floor. He threw the closet open. He dumped the drawers of his desk out onto the floor. He pulled everything out from under his bed.
But, then he noticed the Worlner resting in the still shadowy corner of his room and he sighed with relief. It hadn’t been a dream, and, more importantly, the world was safe.
He heard his parents stirring in the neighboring room and he quickly put his desk back together and tidied up as much as he could as quietly as he could. He changed into an outfit for the day and placed the Worlner in his right front pocket. It was too valuable, and too dangerous, to ever be apart from him.
Smiling, Anton threw open the door to his room and went to great the day.
This is a very, very, very rough draft of a much larger project I’ve been toying with for awhile. I’m sharing these pieces of it with you today in response to the new Prompts for the Promptless provided by Queen Creative:
The Monomyth is also known as “The Hero’s Journey”. It is a concept coined by Joseph Campbell who argues that classic myths from many cultures follow a basic pattern.
“In a monomyth, the hero begins in the ordinary world, and receives a call to enter an unknown world of strange powers and events. The hero who accepts the call to enter this strange world must face tasks and trials, either alone or with assistance. In the most intense versions of the narrative, the hero must survive a severe challenge, often with help. If the hero survives, he may achieve a great gift or “boon.” The hero must then decide whether to return to the ordinary world with this boon. If the hero does decide to return, he or she often faces challenges on the return journey. If the hero returns successfully, the boon or gift may be used to improve the world.”
More at Wiki: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monomyth
- Describe your favorite moments in the hero’s journey
- Describe your own monomyth
- Show a hero’s journey in photographs or images
- Write a story following the classic monomyth pattern
- … or make up your own related prompt!