part 1
one
Madison Pierce thought something might be a tiny bit wrong.
For one, the ceiling she had been staring at for the last few minutes, full of small, glow-in-the-dark stars, was terribly familiar, which was strange because she was sure that she had outgrown those stars somewhere in the past two decades.
Secondly, a quick perusal of her duvet revealed a colorful and, admittedly, fantastic Sailor Moon pattern, with black Lunas everywhere and brooches from all five seasons of the show.
God, she had loved the crap out of those brooches.
And finally, and most importantly, this was not her bedroom.
Or better yet, not what her current bedroom was supposed to be.
There were no cream, muted hues, and slick lines, and modern, minimalist undertones. This was Maddy’s childhood bedroom in all its flowery galore, its pinkish gray bed and nightstand set, its dozens of Asterix comics and fantasy books, and its plushies and figurines that she had kept even later on.
She hadn’t put on her glasses yet so everything was a bit blurry to her, but everything looked exactly the same. Shockingly so.
She had dreamed of this particular bedroom many times. In her life, she had moved house on several occasions, but in her dreams, this one was the only one that she had found herself going back to. Which, of course, had to be the perfect explanation of what was going on.
Maddy felt herself go weak with relief.
This was a dream. It had to be. It was probably also why she couldn’t see very well. It had nothing to do with her glasses. She had read somewhere that in dreams, things might appear out of focus, and also that the dreamer couldn’t taste or smell anything.
She took a deep breath and let herself relax and snuggle into her warm comforter. Now that she had come up with the perfect answer to her conundrum, she could take some time to appreciate how wonderful it felt to be in this room, surrounded by the things she’d always loved. She felt calm.
And if it weren’t for an imperceptible, irregular flutter of her heart, and a nagging feeling that she was forgetting something, something that perhaps she shouldn’t be forgetting, she would have been able to let herself fully enjoy this.
Except. That flutter seemed to be growing stronger and stronger, her body trying to tell her something, waiting for her brain to catch up.
Her eyes went wide and she sat up so fast she got dizzy enough to slowly lie back down.
Oh no, she thought.
“Oh no,” she said out loud. “No, no, no,” she repeated for good measure.
Her brain was catching up, alright. A dawning realization was creeping up on her, along with the vague memory of a flash of crippling terror, a pair of strong arms enveloping her in a warm embrace, and then... nothing. A black void and then, well, her childhood bedroom.
This was crazy, right? It had to be. Totally crazy. So crazy in fact that she started laughing silently like a lunatic in, what looked like, very early in the morning. She knew that at some point all the fantasy novels she had been reading would catch up with her. Because, come on, the alternative was enough to make her think she should be committed somewhere.
Time travel?
Seriously?
And to where?
Her old bedroom?
Shouldn’t time travel happen somewhere exotic or really ancient, somewhere with an air of mystery maybe, like to a murky forest, with thick fog wrapping around her ankles, where she would come across a gorgeous, tall, red-headed Highlander that would scrutinize her suspiciously and call herlass?
Or if she was to really go all out, why time travel at all? Why not, full-on, materialization to some magical fey land, where quests would await her, brooding men with wings would protect her from the sidelines, ready to save her from herself, while she donned excellent form-fitting leathers and mastered all kinds of martial arts?
She sighed, shaking her head. Still down-to-earth and practical as always.
Okay, perhaps it would be more sensible to return to her original assessment. Perhaps she was, in fact, dreaming.
This was all a very vivid dream. Where everything around her felt surprisingly real. A beautiful display of everything good, and soft, and bright, plucked from the deepest recesses of her mind.
