Waves of Change- EH Book 1

Chapter 6- Hall of the Ancients

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Here we go again! It's so much fun writing this stuff. I love it. And please comment or vote or follow me if you're new. It makes my day. It really does. So....this chapter is where it gets a little fantastical. Where you find out why exactly this story is Fantasy instead of teen fiction or something. Why you ask? Read and find out! Mwahahahahahaha! Now....has anyone seen my shoes?................................ :-)

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The light grows brighter and brighter, and my panic grows as well. I am hurtling down a chute at top speed. How on earth am I going to slow down enough so I don't kill myself at the end of it?! Desperately, I reach my hands out to either side of the tube to try and stop. No luck. I can only pray the demons that came up with this included a stopping mechanism! The light gets brighter. Wait, am I slowing down? Sure enough, the tube is kind of leveling off, slowing me down. But it's not good enough. At this rate, I'll come flying out. The end of the tunnel is very near. I squeeze my eyes shut before I fly out. For a split second, I'm airborne and panicking. I flail my arms out helplessly before coming crashing down onto a soft, fluffy mat-type thing. On the way down, my wrist hits the edge of the chute. Pain shoots up my right arm.

"OOOOOOWWW!" I scream. I clutch it to my chest, laying sideways on the mat. The only thing I see are a pair of pink tennis shoes. I look up. Oh, there's Alice. Staring at something on the wall. I sit up and look around. My jaw drops. Slowly standing up, still clutching my hurt wrist, I take it all in.

My first thought is that we somehow actually DID travel back in time. We're standing in the mouth of a long stone hallway, the end disappearing in the dim lighting. The stone the hall is made of is a light brown, sandy color like an ancient temple, which is further reinforced by the torches placed at intervals down the corridor. They're old-fashioned, wooden sticks covered in tar and pitch and lit on fire. Resting in iron sconces that look old and rusted, it feels like we've stumbled onto an Indiana Jones movie set. What really interests me is the paintings. Halfway up the walls, the stone gets close together and smoother, making a flat surface where the paintings were painted. The pictures themselves are interesting. The one nearest me depicts a human riding on a tidal wave. I study it closely. The human is atop it, looking like they're riding a skateboard, leaned slightly forward. What puzzles me is that there's no surfboard or anything. It appears that the human is actually standing on the water itself. Weird. Further reflection is interrupted by a sort of rumbling noise. I look around for a sign of what's making that noise, expecting to see the ceiling descending or something like that. Then, like every day at lunch, something cannons into me from behind. What feels like feet hit me straight in the small of my back. I fall forward, flying towards the stone floor. I hold my hands out in front of me to lessen the blow, which was a bad idea. Pain, even worse than before, flares up in my wrist, feeling like someone jabbed a knife there. (Not that I would know how that feels)

"AAAAAAAAHHHH!" I scream in agony. I clutch it again and hold it against the cold stone floor to try and soothe the burning. My eyes are watering from the pain. Looking behind me, I see Buck get up from the mat and swear. He shakes his head and looks at me. Worry clouds his features.

"Dude, are you okay?" he asks.

"No. I just like screaming and laying on the floor." I say sarcastically. "Yes, I'm hurt. My wrist feels sprained."

"That's not good. Alice, do you know first aid?" he asks her.

"You don't know first aid? Shouldn't a triathleteknow first aid?" I ask. He looks back at me.

"Why?"

"I don't know. In case they get hurt on the track or something. Ow." I say as another spike of pain hits me. His brows crease.