The Golden Band (7th Grade Edition)

Chapter Four -- The Other World

"Cricket, Cricket, wake up," I heard a voice call. "Cricket, something awful has happened!"

I shut my eyes again. I didn't want to open them, but I did anyway.

"Silver!" I cried. "You're a normal size!"

"Yes, that is my weakness in your world: I am small. Your weakness is...flying!"

"Silver, why would that be a--" I didn't finish. The reason was, I was floating two feet off the ground.

"It's a weakness because I my world, it's hard to control.  Even with your magic it can be very difficult. Soon you will get used to it, because when you go back you will fly also."

"My gosh! I can't believe it! How do I manage to control it? I can't even stand up!"

"It will take time," she said. "For now, you will fly horizontally until it finally gives in."

I decided to finally look around. The whole world from here seemed a vast meadow with the mountains and trees looking down upon it. It was a beautiful sight.

Then I smelled it: the foul odor of garbage and lemon rinds. It was a smoke, but the stench was horrible.

"What is that horrible smell?" I asked. "I can't stand it."

"Here, put a cloth in front of your nose." She gave me a red cloth and said, "Run, we are in the land of the enemy. This is Deathansia, or in your language, 'The Land of Death.'"

"Land of Death?" I asked. "What a horrible name for such a beautiful place."

"Look again," she said.

I turned around and looked once more at the sight I had seen before. The whole land now seemed black and scarred. The trees were stripped of their leaves and withered with age. There were no mountains.

"How...?"

"Don't believe everything that you see," Silver said. "Come on. We've got to get out of here before the enemy sees us."

We went on for what seemed like a year, dodging low tree limbs, going over hills. Everywhere I turned it was beautiful, but when I turned around again the beauty was gone.

We kept running (well, I was flying) until we came to a huge rock which towered twenty feet above my head. A horrible sound came from up above. It was a giant bird.

"SCREEEECH!" The giant bird called. "SCREEEECH!"

"Hurry, we must hide!"

"What is that?"

"It's a Styfler! The enemy's scavenger! He alerts his master whenever a trespasser is on his grounds. We mustn't let him know we are here, or the consequences could be..."

"What?" I asked.

"Death."

I started to say something, but the cry of the bird startled me. We hid under a cutoff in the rock when, all of a sudden, a pair of huge wings, about a fifty foot wingspan, flapped their way over the scarred plain we had left behind.