The Prison

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For an old man, Lena's guide was surprisingly spry. She actually had difficulty keeping up with him, when she would have assumed the opposite to be true.

"What's your name?" She asked the question to break the silence that had sat between them for the past fifteen minutes, and which had begun to unnerve her.

"Kapilkin," he said. "And yours, my lady?"

"Lena."

He nodded. "An unusual name," he said, "but I would have expected nothing less from an other-worlder such as yourself."

Lena stopped in her tracks. Her blood ran cold. When Kapilkin saw that she'd stopped, he ceased walking and turned around to look at her quizzically.

"What did you just call me?" Lena asked.

"An ... an other-worlder," he said. "I apologize if I've caused offense. I thought it was the accepted term."

"How did you know I was from another world?"

"Well, I just assumed — your clothes ..."

That made sense; she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt underneath the cloak she'd taken from String Bean. People here dressed like they were in a cheaply made movie about King Arthur, so of course she'd stand out.

"What do you know about ... about my world?" she asked.

Kapilkin stroked his beard thoughtfully as he formulated his response. "I know we receive occasional visitors from your kind, but beyond that, I don't know much. I've never interacted with one of you personally, only observed from afar."

"Do you know how we're able to travel back and forth between our world and this one?"

"Can't say that I do. I've heard whispers of various methods, some undoubtedly more authentic than others, but I've never tried it myself."

"What do you call this world?" She held up her hands to indicate the landscape stretching out beyond the horizon.

"Me? Well I just call it Kapilkin's world," he said, laughing. "Consider yourself lucky that I let you live in it."

"But seriously, is there a name for it?"

"Not that I've ever heard. We just call the world ... the world. Why? What do you call your world?"

"Well ... we call it 'the world,' but we also call it 'earth.' What do you call our world?"

He shrugged. "I can't speak for anyone else, but I've always just called it 'the other world.'"

"Well, it's accurate. I'll give you that."

"Miss Lena, I appreciate that you have many questions, but I think it's best that we keep moving—"

"Of course. I'm sorry. Let's continue." Kapilkin picked up the pace again and Lena struggled to keep up.

As they walked, she thought about what Kapilkin had said ... about how there were "occasional visitors" from her world to his. That meant there were also probably visitors from his world to hers. There was an entire interdimensional traffic system taking place right under her nose — under everyone's noses — that she never knew existed. She wondered if stories she'd read as a child, of gateways into other worlds through wardrobes or holes cut with magic knives, were somehow based, if not entirely on reality, then at least on a grain of truth.

She couldn't wait to get home and pretend none of this had ever happened.

***

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