SWC Weekly #1

Instructions

I stepped into the tunnel of trees, and it seemed to go on forever. It was dark, but not too dark that I couldn’t see where I was going. It felt sort of magical, walking through this tunnel made of nature. After walking for around fifteen minutes, there still wasn’t an end in sight. That didn’t bother me. I was fine exploring this path. Leaves crunched under my feet as I continued walking on, desperate to know where this road would take me. Finally, I spotted a sort of end to the tunnel. There was a glowing, bright, white light that glowed at what must have been the end. It was so bright that I couldn’t directly look at it. The light drew me in, and I knew that I should walk into it. Tentatively, I walked up to the edge of the bright glow. I stuck out my right index finger and carefully stuck it through. Nothing happened. It didn’t catch on fire or explode or anything else, so I closed my eyes and walked straight into the whiteness. I awoke in some sort of room, laying on the floor. People were crowded around me, talking rapidly in hushed tones. The room was bare, with no furniture, and the walls, ceiling, and floor were pure white. That was weird-not only because I had somehow walked here from a tunnel of trees. Who would have a room with no furniture? Even the air smelled sterile. I cleared my throat and sat up,”Um..Excuse me! I’m Ash! What are you people talking about?” The people gasped. “She’s awake!” “Where did she come from?” “What kind of accent is that?” None of them were talking to me, or even referring to me in first person. I stood up, tucking my dark brown hair behind my ear. “Hello! People! To answer your question, I’m from the United States of America. Therefore, I have an American accent. Also, your guys’ accents are pretty weird,” I practically shouted, hoping it would get their attention. And their accents were weird. They sounded crisper, and they over pronounced their constants. Finally, one of them, a woman with jet black hair, looked at me and said simply,”What are you doing in our house?” “Your house?” I questioned back. This didn’t look like a house. If it was, it was a pretty boring one. I felt bad for whoever lived here. She pursed her lips,”Yes, this is my house, and I would like to know what you are doing in it.” All the other adults nodded. “Well-I walked through a tunnel, got knocked unconscious, I guess, and now I’m here.” I told them,”That’s all I know.” They huddled together, and I was left standing in the very middle of the room, arms crossed. Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm. “Let me go!” I screamed, kicking and thrashing to the best of my abilities, trying to pull away. Someone covered my mouth, and I licked their hand, hoping they would be disgusted and move it. They didn’t. The woman with the black hair sighed,”I am sorry-Ash, but until we know more about you, we can not take the risk of letting you run free.” That wasn’t fair! I hadn’t done anything wrong! “I’m being kidnapped!” I shouted, but my voice was muffled from the hand. “You can be calm, or we can force you to be calm,” a tall man with red hair informed me. “I WON’T AND YOU CAN’T” I yelled at the top of my lungs, hoping someone would hear me. Either way, I wasn’t going to do what the creepy kidnappers said. They couldn’t control me. And then they knocked me out. Now I was in another room. It was identical to the one I woke up for the first time, but it was smaller, and there was a cot, which I was laying on. It wasn’t very comfortable, but it was definitely better than the ground. I laid there for a long time. I wondered where I was and how I had gotten there, if my parents missed me, if my little brother’s football game had gone well. Had they called the police? Probably-my parents were the overprotective type. I was in the middle of daydreaming about telling my friends about how I was kidnapped, when Ms. Black Haired Lady opened the door. “Ash, I’m here to ask you some questions,” She told me. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that looked quite uncomfortable. That’s why I always wore my poofy hair down. I ignored her, and studied my fingernails. She didn’t deserve my respect. She ignored me ignoring her. “What year is it?” Ms. Black Haired Lady asked abruptly. Sheesh, I wasn’t dumb. “2019, duh,” I answered dully. “It’s 2101.” “Y-y-you’re lying,” I stammered. That couldn’t be true-could it? If it was, how was I going to get home? 2101, or what I had seen of it so far, wasn’t my friend. I was suddenly homesick, so homesick for my house, my family, my friends, and my century. This wasn’t good. At all. “I am not lying. That is the year. Why do you not believe me?” “Why should I listen to you?” “Because it is true. Do you need proof? Look around,” she ordered me, tapping something on her wrist. With that, the walls retracted, revealing windows. Through them, I could see we were high up, with other tall buildings rising up next to us.