I forcefully shut the door of the garage with an angry kick. Today was one of these days were nothing seemed to go right from the start. My alarm had decided to give up on me, and it was my mum who had woken me up just to tell me that I was already half an hour late. When I'd finally come down to the kitchen, only half clothed and still putting on a sock it was only to discover that SOMEBODY ( probably my little brother) had emptied the milk pack and hadn't bothered to get a new one. I had to eat my breakfast at topspeed and when I finally made my way to the garage it was only to realise I had forgotten my bag in my room, all the way upstairs. So yeah I was kind of pissed this morning. I was more or less back on time however so maybe I could still arrive on time at the lecture. My professor was a strict one and though I usually liked him well enough I did not want to meet him when I was running late. I jumped on my bike and started to pedal as fast as possible.

I couldn't stay pissed for long though. It was one of those cold March mornings and the resulting mist reduced the visibility down to five meters max. Though some may find riding in the mist rather creepy I've always loved it. I like to think that the mist is in fact a portal of some kind that one day will wisk me away to another wondrous magical world. Yeah call me a baby or a dreamer, I won't deny it.

I was pleasantly lost in my own thoughts when I realised that something was approaching, fast. I looked over my shoulder and felt the cold rush of adrenaline when I saw two headlights awfully close to my wheel. I did not have even the time to curse let alone swerve aside. I felt something hit my bike and before I knew I was making something akin to a shoulderroll in the grass verge. God I've never been so happy for the karate lessons. I stood up, looked if I had anything, and then looked around. Mist, mist and again mist and no sign of the car. If I had been pissed then I was now furious. What kind of asshole pumbs a biker and doesn't even stop?
-Hey asshole! Do you know what they call people like you ? Bloody cowards! Yeah be happy that there is mist or I would have reported you to the police. For you know what they do to cowards like you? They get into jail! And you'd better not meet me again or else I'll kick your balls from here to Tokyo and back, asshole!
Yeah you can scratch furious I was downright murderous. I wasn't really angry about the accident it self. Hell it was already the third time this year I had been bumped by a car and I guess I had been spacing out a bit. But if there was one thing I hated, then it was people who didn't take responsibility for their deeds. And riding away after being involved in an accident, even a minor one was one of the worst examples of such I had run out of insults in English I switched to Dutch and after that I switched to French. In the end though I also ran out of insults in that language too which is quite a feat. The car-driver was clearly not coming back and I still had that lecture to catch. I could see something blue in the grass few meters away from me, which I suspected to be my bag. I ended up being right. To my relief nothing had spilled out of it or been damaged and I went in search of my bike. Then something struck me as odd. I had been biking on the Ladies'Road which was lined by canals on both sides. I should have hit water by now. In fact it was quite a miracle I hadn't fallen in when I was bumped off my bike. I froze. What the hell? I tried to look past the mist. Only grass, but then the fog was rather thick. I ignored the little part of my brain that told me that the mist wasn't that thick. I took five steps. Since I neither hit the road nor the canal I presumed I was now walking in the length of the verge. I made a ninety degree turn and started again. Again no road or canal. I repeated the operation a couple of times and still no road or canal. I started to take more steps. The road and the canal still remained elusive. After ten minutes searching I was forced to accept that wherever I was this wasn't the Ladies' Road. I sank down in the dew-strewn grass, stunned.
-'the Hell
I sat there for ten more minutes before strange sounds reached my ears. Cries, the clash of steel on steel, and yet another sound that made my stomach jump up in my throat. I refused to aknowledge but that little purely logical part of my brain still supplied a name for it: the sound of steel cutting flesh. I stood up and hesitated. What should I do? The caring part of my brain , that part that had urged me to become a med student, wanted to rush at whoever was crying out like that and help him, stop him from crying. Another part of my brain, that logical, self-preservating part, told me that whatever was going on there it was serious stuff and that I most probably would get killed. Before I could actually decide what I was about to do, I realised that sound was coming closer, fast. Then suddenly something stumbled out of the mist. No not something, someone. We stared at each other for a while. He was dark-skinned, and blood-spattered, wearing clothes that made me think most of the Arabs during the crusades. Confused as I was, the first thing I thought was: 'He's kinda cute'. Then he suddenly sneered and charged scimitar raised.
-Taaaaaaassssh!
Again I blessed the reflexes six years of martial arts training had given me. My mind went blank but unlike most people my body did not. Before I had realised what was happening I had side stepped the blade and had sent one of my trade-mark high kicks to the guy's head. He staggered and blinked. I was surprised he was still standing. The force I had put into that roundhouse should have concussed him six ways from sunday but he merely seemed a bit dazed and bloody-nosed. My throbbing shin explained the reason. The bastard was wearing a helmet under that turban. He now looked positively furious.
-You little, devil-worshipping bitch!
-Oooh crap!
He came at me again but this time he was more wary and he made sure I couldn't get close. All I could do was duck and dodge for dear life. I had to find a solution fast.

The solution came rather unexpectedly with the sound of galloping hooves. My attacker's eyes went wide and he tried to run away. He had not made two steps however when four horse legs appeared in my vision field together with a very big sword. No quarter was given and before I could blink my eyes my attacker had been dispatched. I was shocked. Not because of the speed and mercilessnes at which my opponent had been killed, but rather by the fact that whoever was wielding the sword was not riding a horse but part of one. Wherever I was it wasn't in the Netherlands and it probably wasn't even on earth anymore. For honestly when was the last time that a Centaur had been sighted?