(Josie Sayz: More
archiving. Orion is a character from my ‘Fantasy Writing’ module at university.
I wasn’t allowed to name him Orion in the end, because of the name’s connotations
– I don’t see how or why that has ever stopped anyone before. Stupid Wendy! I
don’t think I ever told her that her name isn’t real anyway! I bet she wouldn’t
have liked that. Orion is a farmer/fighter from a Medieval time zone. Whilst
fighting an orc, he falls into a portal that transports him to the modern
world. This is Orion’s experience.)
He charged forwards.
Holding his hoe between both hands, Orion ran through the woodland marsh towards
the orc. Growling, its green mass towered over him. It stood staring at him,
smug. With a war cry he leapt forward, thrusting his hoe towards the beast. It
chuckled, as it side-stepped. Orion skidded. The sodden ground gave no grip. He
swung his arm out to grab hold of a tree, but the sun shone in his eyes and he
missed it, scraping his arm against the trunk. His sleeve tore. Falling
forwards, he plummeted into the River Brackon. His head submerged. He gasped.
Water flooded into his mouth, his nostrils and his ears. Kicking his legs, he
jabbed the hoe towards the river’s bed. It pushed him up. He splashed his arms,
grabbing out for the river’s bank.
Clutching
onto the grass with his right hand, the flung his hoe out of the water, freeing
his other hand. He grunted. His biceps strained, as he heaved himself out of
the river. Kneeling on all fours he panted, water saturating the patch of land
beneath him. Chocking, he punched his chest, trying to clear it from mouthfuls
of river. He heard voices. Footsteps ran by. Grabbing his hoe, he hauled
himself up. Water crashed around him. He jabbed his hoe into the ground and leant
against it, panting. His clothes clung to his skeletal frame. Taking in sharp,
raspy breaths, he pressed his hand to his chest. His heart thudded against his
ribcage. His chest’s expansion and contraction slowly began to decrease in
pace.
Shaking the water from his hair, he looked up,
searching for the orc. He jerked his head. Taking in a sharp breath, he spun is
head to his left, then right. The sky was dark. The land before him deserted.
The trees were gone. He spun around. The marshy thicket that he had been
standing in had vanished. He swallowed hard. His breathing quickened. His heard
drummed louder. Edging forwards he took in his new surroundings. To his far left
was a line of trees, thin and leafless – nothing like the wide trunked and bushy
leaved ones that he was familiar with. Where was the forest? His woodland
thicket? The marshy grasses? He turned to his right – to the water which he had
emerged from. A grey path ran alongside it, with what appeared to be a bridge
running over the river, but it was nothing like any of the beamed bridges that
he had ever seen. It looked like it might have been made of a shining stone,
but it was so large and huge, vertical, metal spikes poked out from it, like
prison bars. It looked like a torcher device.
Clawing
his hand through his hair, he shuffled forwards. Buildings lined the edge of
the grassy area in which he stood. They were no more than a hundred feet away.
Their structure was strange, he thought. They were neither wooden nor stone.
Deep mud-red coloured rectangles covered them, but what they were and how they
stacked together made his brow furrow. As he neared the buildings, a high howling
sound, which soon became low and distant and accompanied by a low rumble rang
in his ears. He heard it again, this time louder. What he could only describe
as boxes on wheels zoomed by, with people inside. His breathing became heavier.
Gripping his forehead, he pinched his temples with his thumb and forefinger.
Staggering forwards, he gazed up at the many vertical poles with glowing boxes
at their peak. ‘What are they? And how do they glow?’ he wondered.
“Watch
where you’re walking?” growled a beige-cloaked woman as she stalked past him.
“Erm,
sorry,” he mumbled. “I-”
“Don’t
mind her,” said a red-haired guy, who stopped beside him. “Say,” he said with a
chuckle. “Are you dressed for Hallowe’en all ready?” He gestured at Orion’s
tunic and the hoe.
“Hallow…?”
Orion attempted to repeat, but the word baffled his brain and his pronunciation
faded. His eyes narrowed and his brow creased.
“Hallowe’en…
thirsty-first of October… trick-or-treating… fancy dress…” The red-haired guy
gave a sigh, as Orion shook his head, with the creases on his forehead
hardening. “You alright?” asked the stranger, noticing Orion’s dripping
clothes, heaving chest and continuous puzzled expression.
Parting
his lips, Orion stuttered the beginnings of several sentences, before
swallowing hard. “I… where am I?”
“Buxtone
Park.” Orion’s frown remained; the man’s words meaningless.
“East
side of Harrowdun City…”
Looking
around at his strange surroundings, Orion shook his head. ‘I know that I have
lost my memory once,’ he told himself. ‘But it is not happening again.’
Pinching his eyes shut he clenched his fists and tightened his muscles. He held
his breath. He counted to three. He pierced open his eyes. “No!” he breathed. He
was still there. The red-haired guy still stood beside him. He pulled at his
fringe. Blinking hard he tried to prevent his eyes from leaking. “Wh, wh, what
happened t, to my village… the forest… and the orc?”
“Orc?”
he laughed, but Orion did not seem to notice.
“I was
in the middle of a battle,” Orion explained, staring beyond his converser. His
body stiffened. His stomach churned as his sense of fear and determination
returned. “The orc, it tricked me, I fell into the river, I-”
“You’re…
serious?”
Orion stared
at the guy beside him. He did not appear to be that much older than himself.
Staring at the stranger’s clothes, Orion mused, ‘Elizabeth would love to see
this man’s clothing.’ The man had grey trousers and a matching jacket, but
there was no tunic, no tailored patterning at the cuffs or belt at his waist.
Instead he wore some kind of white undergarment showing underneath his grey
jacket. And there was a black material that knotted and dangled from his neck.
Was the material for his master to pull him by? But he did not have the
appearance of a slave. His clothes were clean. Orion’s analysis of the man
ended as he flinched at the return of the howling sound, as another box with
wheel rolled by.
The man
beside him smirked. “You really aren’t from around here, are you?” Orion shook
his head. “That my friend,” he said gesturing at the moving wheeled box. “Is a
car.”
Orion
shuddered. “Does it always make that sound?”
“Only
when the driver’s got road rage and is trying to skip a red light. The horn’s
Doppler effect can be a little disorientating at first,” he said sliding his
glasses back up his nose.
“Car?
Horn? Doppler…?”
“Don’t
worry,” said the man with a smile, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ll get
used to it.” Orion forced a smile and nodded, unaware of how else to respond.
He did not want to get used it. He wanted to return to his village. A nervous
laugh escaped his mouth. The guy with
red hair smirked again. “I’m Chuck by the way,” he said with a nod. “Do you
have a name?”
“Orion.”
“Nice
to meet you, Orion.” He held out his hand. Orion shook it. “Arh, so you know
how to shake hands.”
Orion
swiped his hand away. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No!
No!” gasped Chuck, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I was merely stating
the facts.” Orion glared at him.
Hearing
a ping, Orion’s head sprang up. The contraption above them that had a green
glow to it had changed to red. “How did it do that?” he gasped, pointing.
“What?”
“That,
up there,” he said eagerly. It pinged again, turning from red, to amber and
back to green. “It did it again.”
“That’s
a traffic light.”
“How
does it change its colour?”
“Electricity,”
replied Chuck.
“Elec-what?”
“Electricity,”
Chuck repeated. “It’s like a power source.”
“So, it
is like the sun?”
“Kind
of.”
Chuck
examined Orion (as Orion remained staring up at the traffic light), stroking
his chin with his index finger. “You know,” he said. “This is fascinating.”
“What
is?” shrugged Orion.
“You,”
he said gesturing both his hands at Orion. “Something has obviously happened to
you. A case of agnosia maybe, or
amnesia…”
“No!” The
yelp escaped him. He could not help it. “I do not have amnesia – not again. What
I have told you… it is the truth. This… this place… these cars, horns and el-ec-tri-city
that you speak of… although I can understand you, these words that you use,
they are like another language… it is like I am in another world… maybe I am…”
“Orion,”
Chuck exclaimed, trying to break him out of his ramblings. “Would you care to
join me? I’d like to get you out of those wet clothes and then ask you a few
questions, about what you can remember and where you believe you are from.”
“You still don’t believe me, do you?”
“No,”
said Chuck, with an elongated vowel sound. “It’s not that I don’t believe you,
I’m just so intrigued by the entire situation. I would love to know more about
this, this, this experience that you
have encountered.” Hesitant, Orion took a step back. “I am a Scientist, you
see,” he went on. “And I would love to make note of what has just occurred.”
“Scientist?”
Orion repeated, as the creases on his forehead returned.
“Yes,
yes. I am very interested in the human brain. It won’t be long. Just a few
questions on what you remember, where you’re from, how you got here.”
“Can
you help me get back?” he gasped. His eyes widened. His heart pounded.
“Yes,”
Chuck replied, crossing his fingers behind his back. “I can attempt.” He gazed
at the boy, hoping to gain his trust. “So, what do you say Orion… will you come
along?”
Eyes
raised and brow puckered, he stared ahead at the man. Did he trust him? He was
yet to decide. The one thing he knew was that if this Chuck could help him find
his way back home, then he needed to play along. “Okay,” he agreed. Chuck eyes
widened and a grin stretched across his face.
“This
way,” he said gesturing to the path at his right. As Chuck led the way Orion
followed, looking back to the river at the point where he had stumbled upon
this peculiar world.
-
Josie -
