The Path Unseen

I set my backpack down on my battered desk with a sigh. School is tough enough when you get into highschool, but junior year they changed the class system. I plopped down into my swival chair, rubbing my temples with my fore and middle fingers.

I was late twice today, and almost lost my schedule again. All my homework was done in my last period, which was for free time to chill. I looked over to my Xbox and toyed with the idea of playing Skyrim, but I didn't feel like it. To be honest I felt like reading a good book. My gaze shifted from the game console to the milk crates stacked in the corner. My Mum hates the way my room looks, but I liked the freeflow atmosphere it provided. 

I had used plastic ties to keep the crates together, forming a bookshelf in the corner. I smiled and stood, walking over to peruse my mini library for just the right story. I debated over the Inheritance cycle, Sword of Truth series, and collection of first book manga.  None of them appealed to me, and I was going to give up when I remembered the book on the top shelf. 

Held up by mismatching bookends, sat the book I had yet to read. The Hobbit, a fantastic story. (I still haven't read the original, but I own a super realistic comic book version.) The two bookends I called fallen grace were a personal joke. One is a black unicorn whose horn broke off, the other a dragon with broken wings. I pulled the book out carefully, smiling at the memories it already held within it's pristine pages.

I've seen the first two parts to the Hobbit movies, and I watched all of the Lord of the Rings. I love reading the books behind movies I like, because there is more detail and directors leave out a lot of good bits for big hits. My Mum bought me the book after months of pleading and extra chores, she gave it to me for my birthday. It has been sitting there for four days, untouched and at the back of my mind.

But with hours of free time and nothing else interesting me, it had my devoted attention. I sat in my chair and leaned back, setting my feet, which were bare, on my desk. I opened the book and something fell into my lap. Believe it or not it has happened before, someone leaving a bookmark or card in the book when they turn it in to the store. I personally like to own my favorite books so I have access to them whenever I want to read them.

I picked the object up to set it on my desk, maybe add it to the drawer of bookmarks. (An actual drawer I had for a few years, filled with handmade and storebought bookmarks.) But I stopped when I saw that it was a relatively thick envelope. I turned it over to see who it was adressed to, and in neat, cursive handwriting it said one name that made my hair stand on end.

Kass Winchestor

I am very familiar with both of my parents cursive, and neither of them wrote so boldly, with a hurried spidery look. If my handwriting was bigger it would look similar to the writing on the mysterious envelope. Maybe it's from the person who was cashere when my Mum talked their ear off during checkout. 

I hooked my right thumbnail under the sealed tab and pulled, opening the envelope perfectly. I cheered to myself quietly over the tiny bit of success. I spilled the contents onto my desk and stared at them quizzically. A little bag with tightly drawn strings, a ring with a blue gem and black metal band, and a letter. Well then, this was far more interesting then I perceived it to be. 

I set the bag and ring aside to read the letter, a habit from recieving letters with birthday presents. I unfolded it slowly and began to read it.

Dear Miss Winchestor, 

I hope you have found this letter and the contents of the packet I sent, and they have not fallen into the hands of anyone else. I need your help, as do many others in the books you love so dearly. Enclosed should be a ring you are to wear, so that I will recognise your presence. As well as a small packet filled with Pudar Taistil, a rare substance of my own creation. 

Sprinkle a pinch of the powder upon your tongue and read a passage from a book aloud. You need only do so once, the powder works as long as you remain alive.  Dress for adventure, I will be waiting.

There was no signature, and I turned the letter over to see if there was anything else. Nothing at all on the back, and I sat back thinking about what to do.  I stood and looked over at the black cat asleep on my bed, then at the rest of my room, each nook and cranny familiar. I picked up the letter and the other things that fell out from the book, walking out of my room and headed for the livingroom.

"Mum? Dad? Would you two mind joining me for a discussion?" I enjoy speaking crypticly to my parents, it helped them to actually pay attention. Being the youngest child of four has it's ups and downs, but I wouldn't change my family for the world. I sat down in the swival chair I used for multiplayer gaming with my Dad. My parents sat across from me on the couch, their faces aprehensive.

"Mum, Dad you both know I love you dearly, and you know I can make the right decision when a choice has to be made. On this matter I need your opinion and approval." I placed the stuff on the coffee table between us, and pushed it to them. They looked at each other, confusion in their eyes. They had been in shock when I began speaking, and I had an afterthought of how much it sounded like I was going to say I was pregnant. Which is hilarious, because I've never been with anyone in bed.

They finished reading the letter and whispered to each other for a bit, then my Mum turned to me holding my Dad's hand. "Kass honey, if you really want to do this then it's fine by us. If it does actually work we want you to come back as often as you can, if only to say hello." She smiled and my grin stretched from ear to ear, not literally but you understand.

My Dad got up and walked into his and Mum's room, coming out with something in his hands. "Hey goober! Don't forget this." He tossed the thing he brought at me, and if I wasn't so used to him throwing things to me. Controllers, the remote to the telly, and empty two-liters. I caught it and saw that it was a black backpack, the high-quality type that last forever and are used by professionals.

It wasn't empty either, unless it was just a heavy backpack. I ignored it and hugged my parents. "If it turns out to be poison or drugs call 911." I whispered to them. "I need to change and get ready, I love you both." I squeezed them close and let them go, smiling brightly and heading off to my room to get ready.

.-=-..-=-.Tiny time skip-brought to you by Kass rushing around getting ready.-=-..-=-.

I stood by my bed, dressed in a black turtleneck, my new black cargo pants, knee-high combat boots and the black choker I made. I grabbed a handful of hairties and snapped two onto my wrist, putting the others in my pocket. I looked at Shadow, my black cat, and debated upon bringing him. It was too risky though, and I hugged him and said good bye. I slung my pack onto my back and took a moment trying to buckle the belt that goes across my abdomen.

I picked up the last item I was bringing with me, a metal case containing custom made goggle-glasses. My pair of regular ones might break, and I don't want to be without them. I have one pair designed for night, another for day and an extra like sunglasses, all prescription. I slipped the case into my pack, which had some extra clothes, a canteen of water and some beef jerky. It also held some of my books, a pencil and a brand new sketchbook.

I figured the guy who sent the letter would tell me if I needed anything else. So I went back out to the livingroom, put the ring on my thumb because it was too large for my other fingers and put the letter in my pocket. Now all I have to do is take the powder and read a book out loud.

I figured that I should read from the Hobbit, since that was the book the letter was in. I opened the pouch up and reached in with my thumb and forefinger, pinching some of the powder and sprinkling it on my tongue. It tasted like cinnamon and salt, but with another herb I couldn't name. I grimaced and held up the Hobbit, reading the first paragraph loudly.

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort." As I read I felt a tickling sensation, like my legs had fallen asleep. The world I knew began to fade away, and I smiled as I was whisked away to the world JJR Tolkien created.