Dedicated to the readers who want to escape; run free within stories, my dear.
Chapter One:
The Wish
The battle was in full swing. Two stubborn forces fighting as they had done many, many times before this.
Voices rise; shouting, snarling, screaming to be heard. Listening through gritted teeth, while throwing insults at the enemy's defence. Eyes focus on their one and only target, unable to look away because they dare not give room for weakness. The air could be felt, as it was being taken when needed most. Strings of sentences now interrupted by desperate inhales or swallows to wash the taste of blood.
The two ripped into one another and reappeared without physical mark on a battlefield that laid bare. In her youth, she would have gladly or maddeningly crumbled, smashed or slammed something at the feet of her enemy but she knew that would be noted as childish or seen as a show of the lack of control of her emotions, but with no way of knowing who's winning or losing, she could only do so much without falling prey to their and her anger.
Her enemy is without mercy and relentless, for they believed themselves to be right and refused to budge or surrender on that matter. Venom pours from their mouth and onto their own flesh and blood but their eyes do not shrink away, their body does not shift and their words do not stop. If she continued to listen, she would draw first blood, something that she knew she could not go back from.
Reminding herself again that there was no shame in walking away, the limbs forced to stay now robotically took her away. Footsteps pounded on carpeted floors, thumping down hallways as she retreated and fully walked away. Having to walk away before she went too far, something her enemy never seemed to care about and still does not. Their voice still calling out to a retreating figure before she disappeared altogether.
With a bedroom door closed, a battle was left but a war still raged inside her head. With no clear answer on who had won or lost, she was left unconsciously to pull it apart. She had to be silent, her rage had to be suppressed. For if her rage made noise, it would stir another battle or even worse, confirm who was in the right or wrong last. For in her growing up, the one who was silent and calm was clearly correct, the raging yeller was simply having a childish tantrum.
The battle was over but the war still continued. A war Isla Hart had been a part of since she was fifteen years old and it had now completely ruined her day.
She hadn't planned to get into a screaming match with her mum at 9 o'clock at night but as always, she never planned to argue. A comment grew into a lecture, a lecture grew into a nag, a nag was interrupted by a defence but there was no defence allowed in a nag. No speaking in a lecture. Only silence was tolerated when commented at. A gauntlet had been thrown, a battle had ensued and the rage had been released.
Why did she have to do this five minutes before a Skype call? She now had five minutes to piece herself together. Glancing to her piled desk, she saw the untouched dice bag in a recently made free space. Of course it was the day of the first session of her new campaign, why spoil anything else?
Isla pressed her cheeks together, where her tears threatened to fall but she hoped to hold back with a comforting squish and made her way to stand over her desk to examine her notes again.
Character Sheets, the Spotify Playlist, DM Notes and the Star Wars 5e Guide decorated her computer screen, while scrap paper, pens, multiple pink coloured dice and a copy of Star Wars: The Force Awakens novelisation decorated her desk.
Star Wars: The Force Awakens. That was where the campaign had been set. A universe and trilogy that her friends and she held deep in their hearts and now planned to step in. The campaign was mainly fan service, Isla knowing what her friends enjoyed about the universe but it was just a bit of fun. Some escapism from the reality that was their lives, Isla's life.
She wiped her cheek. Three minutes.
Grabbing two out of the three glasses on her desk to fill up, she was struck by a sudden thought. A thought that didn't take on her own voice but something more commanding and old.
The voice boomed in her head. "What do you wish?"
What did she wish? She had to think. For Isla Hart spent most of her time wishing. Wishing things had gone differently, wishing things had happened, hadn't happened, wishing she wasn't in this specific moment of failing to hold back tears moments before a now spoiled moment but wishes were as common as they were special. For anyone could make a wish, have a desire they sought to be fulfilled, but not everyone saw their wish granted and so she always thought hard about it.
True love had never come, no matter how wished upon. Adventure never found Isla neither, or money or fame. The only wish she had left in her that she never grew tired of was escape. To not be here but somewhere else. A story where she had a chance.
Her eyes flicked down.
That story, a story where three people in their own godawful situations got a second chance and became heroes. A story that was as far away as time and space would allow from where she stood.
The thought came and was then spoken.
"I wish," Motioning down to the desk full of dice, Star Wars books and notes for the T minus two minutes campaign. "this was my story."
And so blinded by a sudden white light, it was granted.
