'They say that when an author writes a story, they unknowingly weave their tale from events in another universe. Though these things may not be a reality in their own world, the people they invent, the lore they brainstorm, the incidents that happen… they are far from fiction for someone else.
But what if the author gets it wrong — what if, for example, the great villain of their story was actually the hero? What if instead of chronicling the events of this other world, they bastardised it for their own glory?
I ask this because that may have happened. How would I know? Well, I come from a universe very different to this one, a universe where this world was one of the most popular fictions in recent years, and now I’m stuck in a land I thought I knew but really know nothing about. Do you want to know what I’m most upset about? The fact that the author failed to write anything about the ill-contrived toilet system of this cursed land. Honestly! Even the nobles shit in a hole.'
Kelsey grinned. She was fucking hilarious. Whoever randomly stumbled across this journal after she was dead and gone was going to have one hell of a read.
“You seem pleased with yourself.”
A hand fell onto her shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Whipping upright, she found herself looking up at Tomias and his face-widening smirk and breathed a sigh of relief. Who else would it have been? Of course it was Tomias.
“Just come out of no where next time, Tommy. Scare me senseless, why don’t you?”
She waved her quill around the air in an annoyed flourish and splattered him with its ink.
“I think I did.” Keeping his eyes glued to hers, Tomias swept a hand over his shirt and banished the ink from each thread. No one would ever know an ink-splotch the size of Kelsey’s fist had stained the fine silk. It was a handy trick, no pun intended. “What are you writing this time?”
Although he had conjured up the journal she now filled, he was wary of her writing lest she revealed too much of her ‘circumstance,’ as he put it.
“Oh, nothing important. Just something about false preconceptions.” Gently placing the quill back in the ink pot, she took the pages she had just written and fluttered them a little so they dried a bit faster. Once they were dried, she could add them to her ever-growing journal. One day, long in the future, someone would read this great work and wonder if it was fact or fiction. It was all fact, of course, but no one would dare imagine it to be. “You wouldn’t believe it, just like you believe nothing else I’ve told you. This will truly become the greatest story in all the Evergreen.”
“Oh, I believe.” Tomias drew himself up even taller in a swift, indignant movement. “I believe that you believe what you believe. So much of it doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s a different world from the one you’re used to. Of course it doesn’t make sense.”
“Metal caravans that run on the liquefied remains of ancient creatures? Devices that allow you to see and speak with people thousands of miles away? A sun that nurtures life instead of taking it?” He placed a hand on the leather-bound book and sighed. “I’m a man of magic and even I can’t imagine the impossibilities you dream.”
“You need more of an imagination then.” Kelsey smiled. “A good imagination will do wonders for you. It’s how I got here, after all.”
“What I need is more ale.” He looked down at her and softened his gaze. “And I need for you to remember to keep all of this to yourself. There are people in this world who will believe your impossible tale and try to take such knowledge for themselves. Whether it’s true or not.”
“Oh, it’s very true.”
“Then keep it to yourself and stay safe.” His eyes met hers for a long, contemplative moment, then he shook his head. “How many times have I said this now? I’ll see you downstairs when you’re ready to go.”
Kelsey watched Tomias leave the room and further pondered the false preconceptions that had led her here.
Back in her own universe, she had become drunk on the idea of this world. Fixated. ‘Obsessed,’ some would say. The seven-book series of Beneath the Evergreen had been her life-line, the imaginary world that healed her depression and brought her back to life. When she saw a quote that suggested authors drew their inspiration from alternate universes, she had fixated on that too — the possibility that somewhere out there, this amazing world was really real.
And it really was.
She didn’t know if people had ever attempted contact with an alternate universe before, especially people as unlearned in the scientific arts as she was, but she had performed a strange, very unscientific ritual involving a ridiculous amount of crystals, a potion mixed with weird herbs from a Wiccan store and her own blood, and, of course, hope — the hope that she wasn’t being stupid and that everything she had done would work. Honestly, she didn’t know if it had worked. Perhaps she had died and her soul had arrived at its happy place. That was a more logical explanation, and there had been a lot of blood.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here… and while a lot of it was like the book, a lot of it was not. There they were, those false preconceptions she had just mentioned to Tomias.
Tomias himself was actually quite wrong. In one of the books, he had been a great hero. He was the handsome, charismatic adventurer who was eager to journey from village to village and everywhere in-between. It was written that he would heave fireballs at whatever monster was threatening the people that day, then he would bed all the woman that night. After sating his desire he would leave for the next village and do it all over again. Womanising notwithstanding, she was here in this land and had been excited at the prospect of meeting him and all the other heroes. In reality, though; Tomias was a lot different to what had been depicted. While he looked just as handsome as was described in the story, with his fine raven locks and amber eyes, he was a sarcastic man who disdained being outside and would rather be deep in his cups within the safety of the tavern. He travelled from village to village to sate his palate. Women? He ogled many cleavages but kept his hands to himself. Fireballs? He threw them to light their campfire if they had the misfortune of not being in a tavern.
The author who had glimpsed this world had gotten it very wrong. It was most disappointing.
That was what had prompted her to add to her journal today. If the renowned author of the Beneath the Evergreen series had written Tomias completely wrong, what else had they gotten wrong?
The ink was dry. Gathering her journal and its new pages, she wrapped it in a coat and placed it in her satchel, then went downstairs to share a drink with Tomias before they moved on for the evening. At least the books had gotten that right: ordinary, non-heroic people preferred to rest during the day and travel at night. It was less humid and the moon didn’t burn as much as the sun.
When she had first arrived, she had not been prepared. Indeed, that was how she and Tomias had met: she had fallen into the world during the height of day, was instantly burnt to a crisp and had run screeching into the shadows of a cave with her face alight. Thankfully, Tomias had been in that cave, resting between villages, and thankfully, as he put it, he was a ‘man of magic’ and was able to heal her burns. Curious of her tale of being from another world, he allowed her to keep him company as he perused the liquors of the land. It was not the life of adventure she had imagined this man to lead, but it was far more interesting than the life she had left behind.
Of course there had been the culture shock, too. It had only been two weeks and she was still suffering from it. It appeared that one just didn’t leave modern civilisation and enter medieval society without a few hiccups, and she truly hated the lack of proper toilet facilities.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Kelsey wrinkled her nose. She truly hated this eternal stench, too.
Finer literature didn’t speak of the smells and unpleasantness on offer in these places. This was the second tavern they had visited and both smelt of diarrhoea mixed with vomit and piss with a splash of ageing beer. Had she mentioned that the toileting facilities were literally a hole in the floor? Yes, she had. She would have to reiterate the situation the next time she wrote in her journal. Luckily, when one drank enough one stopped noticing. Luckily, her newfound friend appeared more than able to buy for them both. She certainly had none of the currency used in this world.
The tavern was mostly empty at this hour of the afternoon and wouldn’t fill with people until the sun began to set. Tomias sat at the bar, swirling a golden coin between his thumb and forefinger as he sipped on an ale as amber as his eyes. That was quite poetic; she’d have to remember that one for her journal.
“I have something for you,” he said as she took a seat beside him.
“Is it a mead instead of an ale? I could go something a little sweeter. Perhaps a fruity wine?”
“No, not a drink.” He flicked the coin high into the air and it transformed into a piece of paper that fluttered down and landed in front of her. “Just something I thought you’d be interested in, considering your circumstance.”
‘The humble court of Zeddicus Pricks seeks information of the great disturbance that shook the sky this month. Bounteous riches await those willing to help the great Magister unravel this riddle.’
“Considering there are few people who can even read, this is directed to those of a more… learned nature.” Tomias took a long gulp of his ale then wiped the foam from his lip. “You’re lucky I don’t care for coin. Especially not Zeddicus’ coin.”
With a small grunt, Kelsey shoved the paper back towards him.
“Yes, yes. I know. Keep quiet. Keep safe.” She narrowed her eyes. “I wonder if you conjured that up just to prove your thoughts.”
Rolling the paper into a tube, he shove it into his coat pocket.
“I did not. There are eyes and ears out there. Watch yourself for both our sakes.”
In all seven books she had read, there had never been a Zeddicus Pricks. Yet another thing different between tale and reality. At this point she was better off pretending that the books she had read hadn’t existed and that this was a completely different realm to the one she had indulged herself with for so many years.
“For both our sakes? Dare I ask who this Zeddicus is?”
Tomias waved at the barman, pointed at Kelsey, and soon a mug of the amber brew was placed in front of her. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. This one was very bitter, not palatable at all, and would have to be drunk quickly so the taste wouldn’t be in her mouth for overly long.
“A wizard with a grudge.” He shrugged, then a smug smirk formed as he witnessed her struggle with the brew. He swept his hand over it and the amber colour changed to a pale white. “Try that one.”
Tentatively, she took a sip then closed her eyes and relished the sweetness that replaced all that was bitter.
“Much better.”
“It’s a fairy ale. For children.”
Looking him dead in the eye, she raised the mug to her lips and swallowed every last drip of the liquid. “Much better,” she repeated.
He shook his head and chuckled, then at last ordered the fruity wine she wanted.
The orange glow brightening the window told them that the sun was at last setting. As did the slow trickle of people wandering into the tavern. Soon the silence became a raucous cacophony of loud voices as the people came in to feast upon bread and stew and indulge in litres of ale and mead, and paranoid that she would lose sight of Tomias despite him being right beside her, she shuffled closer to him. She was not used to such crowds and, truth be told, the discrepancies between tale and reality was starting to worry her. After believing that she had known this world so well, it was evident now that she knew nothing.
Perhaps Tomias was right. She had to take more care.
Draining the last of his ale, he motioned for her to finish her wine, then placed some coins on the counter as they took their leave. Under the light of the moon they would travel to the next village, likely a few days’ journey… and a small part of her hoped that perhaps this time she would witness the great hero throw a fireball at an evil creature and save the day.
Anything to connect tale and reality.
Hello, hello!
Welcome to an act of pantsing. 🤣 I was minding my own business, playing through the Dragon Age saga, when suddenly the urge to write came upon me. Now I'm stuck in this weird world of "tale vs. reality" and am trying to keep it going. Hopefully it works out and I'm actually able to go somewhere with it! 😆 Would be nice to actually finish something one of these days.
I have no idea what to title this thing yet. So The Perils of False Preconceptions will just have to do for now.
I hope you enjoy it! 😊
Until next time! ❤️📚📝
Header image courtesy of Pixabay. | Divider image courtesy of Pixabay.