Letters

Weeks had passed and the year was drifting off toward the shroud of mists that so often veiled the woodlands in the autumn of the year, each day, the sun fell like a leaf from the branches of clouds. Artemis was worried,—it wasn't often that he was worried, so when he was, it was all the more worrying—not that he wasn't to begin with, he had begun to believe he would die there, mired years and years and years back in a strange place he didn't know anything about. The stars were the only thing he knew now, besides his two strange acquaintances, and so he took comfort in watching them, so far away, like white flowers blooming in the gloaming and still glinting, milk-white, into the hours of the dawn. He wondered if anyone would come to save him, Holly perhaps, if she knew where he was in the first place, he desperately hoped that someone would come and pull him, right across the space of years and years back to his home. But what if nobody came? Then he would die, wouldn't he? And then rise up into the sky, away from the earth to become a new star and a couple hundred years after, he would watch himself, and then his parents as they looked for him, and wept over an empty grave that should have been filled even before they were born while his life was not yet over. In the day there was work, usually the curing of headaches and fevers and suchlike, or reading up on plants and their various medicinal properties, then at night—if he were free—he would venture outside and watch the stars and spot the constellations, it was reassuring, the distant orbs that never changed. Besides that, he also wrote letters by candle-light in his living-quarters when he was sure no one was awake, they were to no one, just things to leave behind, to make sure he would not be totally forgotten once he was dead. This night was no different.

It was around twelve midnight, Artemis had calculated from looking at how high the moon hung from the heavens, he shifted around under his coverlet and looked around—Edgar was the flat, still form on his left, Alaric was sleeping with his quilt heaped up on himself like a mountain—yes, it was safe. He silently got up, all the while making sure his sheets made not the slightest rustle and cat-tiptoed toward the table at the far side of the tent. When he was there, he lifted his shirt a bit and tugged a little book from a pocket he had sewn on the under-side of the fleecy layer of his pyjamas, it was a thick ream of parchment that he had siphoned off his workplace (at the rate of maybe two sheets a day, which was infuriating for a person who could once buy up the entire stock of his school bookstore without batting an eye-lid) and bound together with some string. The book was roughly the size of both his hands placed side by side, inside, it was filled with his scratchy handwriting (it was scratchy because the only sort of pen he could procure was a rather floppy goose feather quill from the cook who was plucking them), his letters to the future—and some SOS messages for Holly if she ever found it.

He also took a pot of ink from where he had stashed it in the midst of his room-mate's mess under the table, soundlessly drew up a chair and began to write.

Dear future,

It's me again, Artemis. Every day, I'm hopelessly mired in work, I don't even know where I am. It's sad, I never expected life to end this way, I remember once when I was younger, Mother ever told me that bad people always got their just deserts, is this mine? Or is it just fate? Will I ever see my family again? Will I see the fairies again? Was it them who did this to me? I don't know. I'm trying not lose hope, but it's coming to autumn and the year is coming to an end, it's beautiful but each day that passes…I don't know. I think about my mother, I think about my father, but they're not here, they're not even dead, they're not born yet so as long as I stay here, I don't have parent—I don't belong to anyone. It's strange, to think I ever wanted to be free of anyone. I've taken the stars as family, .it's another thing mother told me when I was little, I never believed her though, that stars are the souls of dead people, I still don't believe it but it's nice.

Also, another thing, will anyone save me? (I don't generally use colloquialism, but here goes,) A BIG SHOUT-OUT TO HOLLY AND GANG THERE, "COME SAVE ARTEMIS!!!" Okay, I really want to be saved.

It's the dead of the night now, so quiet I can hear the shadows and the night rushing past me, chasing the shadow of the day. I wonder at times like these, why people call the night velvet, it's not, it's not a quilt the angels have pulled over the earth and cut holes in for the stars either. It's a great expanse of nothing, an infinite eternity of space and right out there, there are lamps burning white, or pearls cast out, each drawn from a broken string and flung to the impossible depths of the universe. I don't know why people call the night velvet, if it were I would choke and die—I would. Oh dear, I don't remember when I started believing such things, I'm that lonely I suppose.

Uh oh, someone's coming.

Artemis clapped the book shut and gingerly tucked it into his pocket just as a hand clapped his shoulder from behind. Although Artemis had already heard the footsteps, he still gave a little gasp (more of outrage though, in all his life…such blatantfamiliarity). Then the voice spoke. Edgar. Artemis groaned inwardly, he would definitely want to know what he was doing (of course, it could be worse, like the servant girl who always got the giggles whenever he came within a ten metre radius of her).

"What art is thou doing?"

"Nothing." Artemis turned around and stared into the blackness where he knew the voice was coming from.

"Hmm."

Silence.

"What in he—on earth art thou doing?" Artemis hissed, he was annoyed, why, there was no peace to be gotten anywhere!

"Well, I could not sleep, so when I saw thou I was wondering…"

"Wondering what?"

"What thou was about, and thou saith nothing so there is nothing. Also, I was pondering that day thou joined us, it was unusual."

"Unusual in what way?" Artemis could feel his heart beat faster. "Unusual in what way?"

"If I remember correctly," Edgar paused and sighed. "If I remember correctly, thou was found lying on thy road, in a queer manner of raiment. I always wondered about that."

"Is there anything more?"

"I am coming to it." He turned slightly to face the slit where the two cloth flaps covering the tent's entrance did not quite meet and in the faint silver of the weak moonlight, Artemis could see the silhouette of his mouth as he began to speak again. "Well, thy circumstances of thou's appearance were odd. I spoke to some of thy villagers in thy days after, not one of them said they saw anyone besides thy one traveler who helped bring thou back to thy cottage come into thy village by that road on which thou was found."

Artemis could feel the hairs on his back prickling, what had sent him back, and who?

"What else happened?"

"All this."

Artemis leaned back and shut his eyes, was that blame he was hearing? Oh no, dumb idiocy of these medieval quacks rubbing off on me… "Artemis, I want you to know that bad people get their just deserts."

He spoke, "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"All that has happened, I was hateful."

"No matter. Never blamed you…look, it is a wonderfully clear night."

And they lapsed into silence.

Opal Koboi's side of the view

Now that the boy is out of the picture, I can finally take my place in the drama. This is what I've wanted all along, I want my place, I want to win. The world is mine, it always was, so now I'm here to take it. So why a whirlwind? That's your question, it's because this is a drama. I've always believed in announcing myself at the door, I don't go creeping and crawling about like a thief—I own this world; it's mine and nobody can do anything about it.

So my plan, what is my plan? I've got it, all in my head, another thing I don't believe in is improvisation. Only pathetic elves and centaurs and Mud Men and dwarves do that; they don't know that it means only short-sightedness. It's foolishness. It's what they do. Me? Well, I'm different. I have sent my calling card, and now, I wait. When they come, I strike.

It's easy, I don't have to worry about a thing.

Artemis's POV

I actually said sorry! I apologized. Oh gods, will wonders never cease, but I guess I'm pretty glad about that, I've got someone to talk to now, maybe we'll even get to like each other. Hmm. Another thing I'm wondering right now is why I got thrown back through all these centuries……a rupture……a hole in time, yes, I understand. But who made it? That's a mystery, a real one, I wonder why. I'd list out the reasons but I can't think, I can't think why anyone would possibly do this. Why?

So I'm lying in the darkness, it's still the nighttime and I'm waiting, eyes open, for the dawn.

twinparadox It's December 26, 2004 and school's starting in just days! I know, I know, it's awful, I'm M-A-D mad. Why, oh, why do I have to go to school? Never mind, I'll try to update as often as possible.

P.S. Wish me sooomuch luck for school, I'll need it.