She came home from school and flung herself on her bed without hesitation. Her head felt heavy, but then she felt all her nerves dissipate as her body sank deeper into the mattress. “God,” she sighed, “Why does it have to be this hard?” 

After a few minutes of lying still, trying to clear her mind of any lingering tension, she sat upright. Perhaps a little “writing sesh” would do the trick. She leaned over toward her nightstand and picked up her journal. She had bought it just a few weeks prior at the local craft store with her mom. Its cover was white with an outline of the seven continents, all colored in blues and purples. Underneath them were the words “Find Your Adventure,” printed in simple cursive. Well, I can’t really adventure anywhere, she thought, so I’ll just write about where I’d want to go…

Pen in hand, she clicked its top and started to write. Dear Journal… It felt effortless, the pen gliding across blank pages that would eventually become a story– her story. All throughout her journal were cute doodles of people and places, as well as scribbles of things she wanted to erase, but could not, for better or for worse. The pen was a release: It felt as if any thoughts or emotions she wanted to let go of were dispelled like magic as soon as they were out there on paper. It was her key to her cell; it was her sword to her freedom; it was her ticket to paradise. 

Paradise. She pondered, What kind of paradise would I want to be in? A world without stress, poverty, and Netflix waiting an eternity to release a new season of my favorite show? No, that can’t be possible… Well, I’ve always wanted to go to Italy… A smile protruded from her face as the idea popped into her mind. She’d been begging her parents to take her there since she learned that it existed. It was the birthplace of her ancestors; it was in her blood; it was practically her birthright to visit that beautiful country. And with that, a new story was born.

I would love to go to Italy, she wrote, with its crystal-clear waters, gorgeous beaches, and exquisite cuisine. I would walk the cobbled streets of Rome, tour the waterways of Venice, and go cliff diving off the Amalfi coast… Suddenly, the world around her became darker, and she started to feel lightheaded and very, very dizzy. Clutching her headboard for dear life, her eyes closed tight as she felt everything moving faster, faster, faster, and then… nothing. 

Nothing, save the warm sun on her skin and a blanket of sand beneath her body. She opened her eyes and sat up, startled. “Where am I!?” she exclaimed. “Where’s my room, and my bed!? Oh no, my parents are going to lose it!” Quickly, she rose from the sand, only to find a vast expanse of clear aqua water glistening in the sun before her. She turned around and to her amazement, there was the Amalfi coast she had always dreamed of. Before her were homes of all different colors, knowing that there would be quaint, little sidewalks betwixt them all, filled with inhabitants of the town going about their daily lives. 

Filled with curiosity, she went to run off towards the city, only to realize that she was, in fact, on the other side of the world all by herself. This is great, but how am I going to get back home? That was when it hit her, literally: Her own pen fell out of the sky and landed smack on her head, which startled her out of deep thought. How did… oh, I won’t question that. The fact that I’m in Italy right now is questionable enough, she thought to herself. Suddenly, she heard a voice call out to her. 

“Hey, miss! You still coming or what?” She turned around and faced a man with a large backpack, blue sunglasses, and sandy blonde hair. 

“What?” she called out. 

“Cliff diving!” the man exclaimed. “That’s what we’re all here for anyway, right?” He gestured towards a group of tourists with backpacks on, and a tour guide conducting the group towards the town. She realized she was part of the group. But how!? Y’know what, I’m going to stick to the theme of not questioning; that seems to be working better for me. 

“Oh, of course!” she replied, acting natural to not make a scene. Forget her parents, she was in Italy, she was living a dream come true, and she wouldn’t waste it. 

“Well, come on then!  The tour’s about to leave,” the man said. “I’m Brodie, by the way.” 

“I’m Audrey,” she replied, “Pleased to meet you!” 

“Right back at ya!” The two shook hands and continued to walk. “So, where are you from?”
“Well, I’m from the US, in a small town called Lynbrook, and—” 

“Audrey! You okay up there!?” It was her mother’s voice.  

“And… you were saying?” Brodie said. 

“Oh! Right, sorry, and I—” 

“Audrey!? Hello?? What are you doing up there?” It was her mother’s voice again. She felt her head go heavy, and the world started to get very, very dizzy. 

“Whoa, you okay” Brodie asked. 

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, just fine.” She was not indeed fine, in fact everything around her was moving faster and faster and faster and she could not stop it. Quickly, she reached for her pen, what could she do now? Its top was glowing red, which it never had done before. She pressed its top and was whirled back, back into space, time, and darkness. 

TO BE CONTINUED…