The Narrator

Elsewhere

It hit like drowning.

No warning.

No portal.

Just space folding.

A floating feeling.

One blink I was in my room..? Right? At my desk, maybe studying or maybe just... thinking. Gosh what was I doing. But it didn't matter.

The next, I was falling.

No scream left my mouth. I couldn't. The air had disappeared. The world twisted, and for one gut-wrenching moment, everything was colorless, weightless, senseless.

Then-impact.

Hard. Cold. Unforgiving. I landed on stone. Something scraped my knee. My shoulder smacked the ground with a shock that echoed up my spine. My fingers hit wet grime. 

I gasped.

"Ow!"

I coughed and curled instinctively. What the hell just happened?!

Panic.

No no take a breath. Take a breath.

The air tasted like soot and ash.

I tried my best to piece together what just happened-but nothing made sense.

I was not in my room. That is obvious. It was dark- fuck. I blinked again and again till it felt like the dim light was enough for my eyes to see.

This was...

An alley?

Narrow and wrong. Dark in a way that felt sentient. The buildings leaned in, crowded together like they were whispering about me. There was no sunlight-just a dull grey twilight that didn't match the time of day I remembered. The ground beneath was cobblestone, slippery with something foul. I wasn't alone-but I was ignored. Shadows moved. Shapes passed. No one looked twice.

Thank god. I tried to hang onto the fact that I was in a dark corner to help my heartbeat that kept drumming in my ears. I took another breath.

A noise left my mouth as I exhaled-a small, shaky sound. The kind you make when the world slips out from under you and you're too old to scream but too young to keep your head in line.I pushed myself up slowly. My palms were scraped. The skin stung. My knees trembled.

What if I need to run?

No, I don't calm down.

I looked down. 

And froze 

And took in.

The clothes I was wearing-not mine. Not modern. Not comfortable. A deep green dress, soft but unfamiliar, cinched at the waist, the skirt brushing your ankles. Underneath, layers of petticoat. Stockings. Boots. I dragged my hands to my waist-was that a corset? My heart slammed against my ribs. I reached up, touched my face, my hair-longer. My hands-slimmer? My nails-manicured. My skin felt slightly different, like it had been moisturized by a product I didnt own. Panic started to rise again. 

This is not my body.

It felt like mine, but refined. Designed. Familiar and unfamiliar at once. I scrambled up and caught sight of myself in a shop window.

I stopped breathing. It was me-but not really.

Gosh have I been kidnapped--no, shifted or something?

I looked like I've been written in a historical drama. Beautiful. Ethereal, even. Same face yet so different. I looked like a character. The kind who'd belong in a world that...

Oh, god.

-the world I wrote about.