Under the heat of the sun Thomas crouched among the bushes. Beside him, his army. The more he waited, the more he worried, the more he wanted to flee. Fight, wait, run – which would he choose? How did he find himself here?
* * *
The Pinchemains were packing for their holiday. Mum shouted from upstairs, “Thomas, pack your suitcase!”
“My old one is broken,” replied Thomas, engrossed in his video games.
“Get the spare one from the basement,” she ordered. He remembered descending the old staircase, the floorboards creaking. He remembered seeing it. The suitcase. It was in tatters. He opened it, inside was a mirror. But it wasn’t an ordinary mirror. In the reflection was a swirling pool of purple mist. He was sucked into the mirror and vanished!
He landed with a thud! He stood up and found himself in a different world... quite literally! Before him stood a grand hall made of wood, he turned in a full circle to see he was surrounded by more similar wooden structures. Everywhere was alive with noise; swords were clanging as soldiers trained, and the sharp twangs of bows releasing arrows. He marvelled at knights in shining armour so engrossed at this new world that he didn’t realise that everyone had stopped and was staring at him. He stared back. Not sure what to do. Then they fell to their knees and cried out, “Our saviour has come to rescue us!”
* * *
He was woken by a small voice, “Saviour it is time.” He rose lifting his sword aloft; he roared his battle cry and charged onto the battlefield. Never did Thomas feel a greater sense of honour, than that moment where he led the offensive to liberate a world he had only discovered the day before.