I started writing a story in the midst of the night. I was just beginning when sleepiness got the better of me, and on the empty pages of my story, I slept.
I woke up and found myself at a very bizarre place. I was on top of a hill and I could clearly see distinctions between the places around it. I thought very hard how I got there, but I could think of no answer. I went down the hill and stayed by a river. The rippled surface of the river showed me memories that I have forgotten. There were memories of my childhood, my past failures, and even my visualization of the reviewer I desperately tried to recall in my exam. It was a river full of forgotten things, and its clear waters were tempting me to drink it. I was about to cup my hands in the water when a knight arrived and stopped by me. “Halt, stranger. If you do not want your memories to fade”, he said. “Memories to fade? What river is this, sir?” I asked. “’tis the river Lethe, the river of oblivion”, he replied. The river Lethe. It was my favorite river in Greek mythology. What’s it doing here? “May I ask what you are doing at such place mi lad?” The knight asked. “I don’t quite know at all. All I know is that I fell asleep and happened to wake up at this place”, I said. “I’ll help you then, I was just searching for another adventure!” the knight said. He then helped me climb on his horse’s back, and we were off.
He introduced himself as Sir Tristram de Lyoness, knight of the round table. He explained that he would be taking me to Socrates, the wisest person he knows and the only person that seems to be capable of helping me. I was a bit taken aback by the fact that I was encountering, and meeting, literary figures. First, the river Lethe, next, a knight of King Arthur’s Round Table, and now, I was off to meet a Greek philosopher who was supposed to be dead a long time ago.
We were traveling for only a while when we passed by a girl following a rabbit. There was no doubt that I just saw Alice, the girl who supposedly went into Wonderland. And soon enough, before we passed by the meadows, she disappeared into the rabbit hole. It was not the only weird thing that I encountered, for after passing by Alice, we passed by a giant beanstalk.
We were on our way to Socrates who was probably in some sort of Athens in this bizarre place. Sir Tristram said that we were already halfway; all that’s left is the bridge we had to cross. There were many shops on the bridge, and it was probably a residential area as well. The water beneath it was rushing through with a very loud noise, and with that I decided, that it was the London Bridge. It didn’t seem as peaceful as I imagined it to be, a rebellion was stirring up within the roads of the bridge. The arches of the bridge spanning the river were starting to crack, we had to hurry. Sir Tristram rode the horse quickly through the crowd and in a few minutes, we were out of the bridge’s premises. London Bridge is falling down. We didn’t have enough time to watch the bridge collapse however; the mob was going to attack us if we stayed to long.
After passing the bridge, we passed by a few more characters in the literary world. Snow White with her seven dwarves, little red riding hood (I asked sir Tristram to stop for a while so I could warn her about the wolf), and even Rapunzel with her extremely long hair atop a tall tower.
Sir Tristram and I finally reached an old Athenian city. We climbed down the horse and started looking for him. After a few moments, Sir Tristram approached a man who doesn’t look too beautiful to my eyes. He was short, had a large nose and a wide forehead. He was Socrates, the one I was looking for.
I told him every detail that I recalled before I got there. In spite of my complicated story, he had a simple answer: “Just finish the story you were writing before you slept. You were probably transported here to have an idea of what to write, and now, I suppose that you already have an idea”, he said. Well, at first I didn’t know what to write, but after a while, Socrates’ words sunk in. I asked for a piece of parchment (that was their paper in the old days), and a quill to write with.
I woke up to find this story among the empty sheets of paper.
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