You splashed through the rainstorm, with the wind blowing the not quite frozen sludge into your face. Your rain jacket was soaked through because of the intensity of the storm; you remember the meteorologist calling it a record breaking storm for your area. Looking up, you see the dark clouds are rearranging themselves into a bull’s-eye pattern. Linking up the clouds are streaks of lightning and what look like funnels of purple stuff, probably the appearance of cyclones. You boost your speed to avoid any impending doom.
You are standing on your doorstep, struggling to get the soaked keys into the keyhole, when you hear an odd tune from behind you. Looking up from your predicament, you turn around, only to see nothing. Then, before your eyes, the holographic image of a young Asian teenager appears to shimmer before you. She appears to be either singing a foreign lullaby, or reciting something in a muttering tone. Before you can decide what to do, a crack of thunder is heard overhead. You look up. A streak of lightning rushes down at you. Bright white light consumes your vision, and you don’t sense anything more. You think, ‘This is it. I’m going to die; forgive me God and accept me now,’ before you lose consciousness.
*&*&*
A female voice asks, “Hello? Can you hear me? Are you ok? Speak to me little guy!” You feel a club jab at your gut, and you double over in pain. “It’s awake?! Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
As you regain your vision, you see that you are in a well lit room. You seem to be lying on your side now, but were previously on your back before being jabbed. Your body feels wet, and you remember being caught in a storm, but the details become fuzzy after you remember seeing the shifting clouds. Coming back to the room, you look down and see that you are on a large wooden surface, but you are sitting in a puddle of water, and beyond the water, there are charring marks of a blast circle—with you at the center. You retch up some rain water, and gag for a moment. When you gain your breath, you ask, “Where am I and how did I get here?”
“You are in Alfea, and more specifically in the dorm rooms. As for the how, I was hoping you would tell me that, little guy.”
You hear the voice again, but have not been able to locate the speaker, yet. At the same time, you know in the back of your head that the girl’s voice is something you are distantly familiar with.
Looking up, you see a giant blurred face hanging high above you. As the features fill in, you now realize why the name ‘Alfea’ strikes a bell in your memories. Before you, the dark-haired, Asian-looking giant face comes into focus. You remember why you know her voice, mostly for the beautiful singing that is her passion. After all, your kid sister played the show on Netflix for days, watching the girl develop into a musical warrior against the forces of evil in the magical world of fairies and witches, neither of which you believe in.
“You’re Musa, the music protégé? How did I end up here? Did you do this to me?”
The head springs backwards. Musa asked, “You know me, but I don’t know you. Can I have your name?”
You are about to reply, but then you remember the focus of this young lady’s world: magic and curses. Names are powerful tools, both of inner discovery and malicious control. For now, you play your cards, or lack thereof, close to the vest. You reply, “Let’s just say that I’m a … distant … observing … admirer.”
“Ok, we’ll figure out what to call you later. So how do you know me?”
To show that you know her, you rattle off the fact sheet that your sister forced you to memorize about her. You begin, “Your name is Musa. You’re supposed to have a magic specialty called Sonic Wave. You grew up on your home planet Melody. Both of your parents were musicians, but the family was not extensively wealthy. Your mom died when you were young, and that tragedy pushed your dad to never play music again. You have had a crush on Riven, but he has been manipulated, on more than one occasion I might add, by evil forces. ” As you look up at her enormous face, you admit, “Granted you don’t seem so … gigantic” and under your breath you mutter, “on television.”
“Two things: one is that is extremely creepy. The second is that I’m not gigantic. You are shrunk. I figure you stand at about 4 inches. I could pick you up in my hand,” Musa starts to reach for you.
You fall back on your butt and scoot away as fast as you can. “Don’t touch me. I’m not even sure if you are the one who brought me here.”
“I didn’t perform any summoning spells. I was practicing for my nature class. Flora suggested a rain dance magic that might help me with a test tomorrow. All I was doing was standing by the window, where I was chanting out the spell, figuring out the rhythm, when there was a firecracker bang on my coffee table behind me. I turn around, and there you are in a puddle, lying … rather dead-like.”
Her accounting of her movements restores the missing parts of your memory. “Oh my God. You did drag me here. With that rain spell, you must have done something wrong—it opened a dimensional portal and dragged me from Earth.”
Musa blinks in surprise. She asks, “You are from Earth? But I thought that Earth didn’t have any more magical people. Bloom was the last fairy there in hundreds of years.”
You interrupt her, “No, I’m not magical. I don’t even believe in witchcraft, sorcery or other magic stuff.” You rub your head and groan, “Yuck, this shouldn’t be possible. I got sucked into a dimension that I don’t believe exists.” Panicked, you look up at Musa, and demand, “You got to send me back. I don’t belong here. Please.”
Musa nodded her head. “Yeah, we definitely need to get you back. Maybe if I talk to Professor Faragonda, she might help make the same portal to send you back home,” she theorizes as she stands up to leave.
You wave your arms about and scream, “No, you can’t tell anyone that I am here. I don’t know who dragged me to Alfea or why.” As Musa squats back down at eye level with you, you explain, “Listen, this has to be just you and me. If anyone else finds me, they might use me as a toy, or think I am a bug, or worse, try to eat me!”
Musa shakes her head, “No one will eat you, silly. But in all seriousness, I should tell my friends and the Professors about you. They can help you get back home.”
“I don’t care if it was Icy, Darcy, and Stormy who called me into your dimension,” you hold up your arm in protest as Musa gasps in astonishment, “but you are not telling anyone about me. If you so much as leave the room, I will … run out into the forest, and allow the first monster that sees me to eat me.”
Musa’s hands cover her face as she thinks on your statement; when she lowers her hands, you see—
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