"Crap, crap, craaaaaap!" I flicked off the last golden specks of dust from my shin. I must be dreaming. I had to be dreaming. There was no other explanation, except the absurd notion that the game had eaten me. I shook my head. I wasn't even going to go down that road. I was dreaming, but how could I wake up? Besides the fuzzy light, I couldn't see a thing.
My imagination worked overtime; terrifying ideas ran through my mind. Whatever was happening to me, it certainly wasn't real. Call it a dream, or maybe a hallucination. I didn't know what this was, and I really didn't care to find out. I just wanted it to stop.
"Wake up!" I ordered myself, pinching my arm. "Wake up!" I gave into the tears at the edge of my eyes. I shook with despair until I heard the Dreamscape theme song again. It played in a pattern of rustling leaves, squawking birds, and the shuffling of my own toes. The air buzzed in rhythm. It was different, fuller perhaps, than the game, but I still recognized the cheerful tune. It wasn't supposed to sound like that.
I frantically grabbed the ground. Cool dirt stuck beneath my fingernails, and sharp needles poked my fingers. A strong whiff of pine and sage assaulted me. Nothing was familiar. I had never wanted so badly to smell my mom's overly sweet cinnamon popcorn in my life. But it wasn't here, and I didn't want to be here either.
I yelped and scooted back, covering the top of my foot as something sharp punctured my skin. My bare feet dug into the ground, pushing me backwards until I stopped against the rough bark of a tree. A small trail of blood trickled down my foot where I'd been attacked.
I cried, which only made my vision worse. Nothing appeared from the rustling leaves. Nothing else crept towards me. I saw nothing. Yet I knew things moved just beyond my sight. I was scared. Vulnerability pinned me against the tree.
I waited until the throbbing in my foot became tolerable and pinched my arms again. A bruise grew near my elbow. Why couldn't I wake up? The fear I had brushed off at first now exploded. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see, and I couldn't think.
And when I finally could see, I screamed. Not a silent whisper, but a full-blown scream that shook me from within. Unfolding around me was a world only hinted at in the video game. My mind was blown.
Holy crap! What was going on?
It was ridiculous. I mean, I had played this game for years and seen some beautiful paintings in art class. But what I saw now surpassed anything I had ever seen. Rich colors and angles blended together perfectly. Unlike in the scrub forests at home, layers of greens unfolded before me—bright green, dark green, forest, olive, jade, and lime.
My fingers itched to draw, to capture the details and add it to my wall at home. My trophies and ribbons proved I had natural talent, but nothing I drew at home compared to what I saw now. Even in the shadows, vibrancy existed. Neons and pastels flashed around me as birds flew from branch to branch. When they landed, clutching onto the undersides of the branches, I swallowed hard.
No matter how I admired the beauty, it scared me.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I made a wish. I didn't want much. I just wanted to wake up in my bed. When I re-opened them, I saw red and purple splotches on my arm from my manic pinching. It hadn't worked.
Something beyond my control was at play. I needed more time to figure it out, but I didn't think I would get it. Time was my enemy, at home and here. I had to move. Sitting here pinching myself wouldn't get me home and that's what I needed to do. Find a way home.
I thought back to freshman English and reading "Alice in Wonderland," and even further back to watching "The Wizard of Oz" when I was eleven. I wasn't the first girl to get stuck in a fantasy. Granted, I was real, and they were in stories...but it was all I had to go on. If Alice and Dorothy could find their way home, so could I. This would be a piece of cake. If this was Dreamscape, I already knew all the twists, turns, and crazy creatures here.
I cracked my knuckles and tightened my ponytail. It was time to play the game.
A parade of puff birds that had inched closer to me with each repetition of the song were now within reach. I barely recognized them. On screen, they were nothing but rolling yellow balls. Here, they reminded me of wobbling puffer fish with needle-tipped feathers and inflated bodies. The rhythmic stabbing of their spiked beaks into the ground interrupted their slow walk. I saw a bird with a bloody beak and pulled my feet in, covering the fresh wound on top of my foot.
"Stupid bird," I mumbled, standing and brushing the dirt off myself as I watched the strange creatures. They moved in a pattern, shuffling from the edge of the forest towards the field to my left.
I started a countdown—three, two, one, jump.
As I landed, a shrill scream echoed beneath me. The bones of the bird crushed easily, like cracking knuckles, when I flattened its body to the ground. A pool of red surrounded me, turning the golden feathers dark. I shrieked and jumped back, flailing my arms until I hit a tree. The rough bark grabbed at my hair and scratched my back. The other birds squawked a warning before puffing into balls and rolling away down the hill. I covered my hurt hand and looked around nervously.
This wasn't real, this was a game; it couldn't be real. But the knot in my stomach and tears falling down my cheeks told me otherwise. This was real, too real. I was losing it.
Only a few minutes in, and I had killed an innocent creature. I felt sick. Did I really expect it to burst into a puff of feathers, disappear, and deposit golden coins in my pockets like in the game?
I looked over at the lifeless bird with the sick feeling of guilt in my chest. How was I going to survive in this world? I thought about the most dangerous levels. Any advantage I'd thought I had just disappeared.
I plucked a yellow feather from my heel, looked to the ground where the trampled bird lay, and sighed. No matter how I felt, I had to move. Waiting would only bring the birds back. I didn't want another punctured foot or reminder of my cruelty.
To the right of me, the forest grew together. Branches intertwined, limbs crossing at all angles, blocking the light from reaching the ground. It was dark. Darker than I'd imagined, but that was where the first level of the game started.
I glanced in the other direction, noticing the birds twisting and turning, flying in random directions over a treeless, grassy hill. Patches of red wildflowers sprinkled the green meadow.
I bit the inside of my cheek and glanced between the forest and the meadow. If this place was real, maybe I didn't have to follow the rules of the game. The crimson puddle haunted me. I didn't want to follow those rules.
Turning away from the trees, I walked towards the field. Warm sunlight settled over me. My smile stretched across my face. I broke into a run across the grass. It seemed so perfect—the pristine beauty of the hill in comparison to the dark forest, the warmth of the sun, and the silence. Halfway up the hill, I paused mid-step and looked around.
When had the birds stopped singing?
Oh crap. Something was wrong. The grass tangled my legs. Warm gusts of wind pressed against me, slowing me down. The small patches of wildflowers gave way to larger pockets of red poppy-like flowers. Their delicate fragrance turned sickly sweet.
A burning sensation rushed across my leg. When I moved the tall grass out of the way, I saw a trail of blisters along my shin. Behind me, a bright red poppy whipped in the wind.
"Dragon weeds," I muttered, recognizing the flower. This threw in a new angle. Biting fuzz birds, burning pollen—the dangers were the same and yet they caught me off guard. I blew cool air onto my shins and, using a blade of grass, carefully scraped the poppy pollen off before more blisters grew. One thing was becoming painfully clear—I'd have to keep my eyes open.
My steps slowed as the ground softened to mud the further I trudged up the hill. Wind blew my hair into my face, blinding me just as I stepped on a loose rock. My feet slid out beneath me, slamming me into the muck. I flailed at the grass, trying to stop my slide back down the hill. A sharp pain shot up my legs as the blisters broke open.
I dug into the ground, pulling, grabbing anything to slow my descent. I glanced down the hill. Darkness waited for me past the floating pollen and whipping grass. The edge. My heartbeat doubled. I seized the closest bundle of poppy stems, ignoring their burn as I lurched to a stop and curled into a ball. Pollen covered my hands, and new blisters swelled immediately, but I only felt relief. Five feet down, the hillside dropped off in a sheer cliff.
Even from a distance, the abrupt edge terrified me. I could see myself freefalling over it. But then again, maybe that would get me home?
I threw a handful of rocks over the cliff, watching them fall, then disappear through a layer of haze that blocked my view of the bottom. My foot slipped, sending smaller rocks over the edge, bouncing off the walls. My heart thundered in my chest. Maybe not. I didn't want to be like one of those rocks.
Reality, dream, or insanity, it didn't matter. I didn't want to die. That meant one thing. No more messing around. I had to play the game, level by level, until I saved the queen.
There was only one problem. I'd never won without my codes.