A Change in the Morning

A Change in the Morning

“Who are you.”

The voice stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t threatening, so much as unexpected. I thought the place was empty, it usually was empty. I turned.

Before me stood a child, shaking a large stick at me. I say a child because he was smaller than me, I’m not that old myself. He seemed younger than me, I’d say, but then, a deeper voice.

“Who are you?” I said, turning the tables back.

He didn’t flinch, “Nobody is allowed in here.”

I decided to play. I looked around as if I was suddenly surprised at where I was. I’d been here a thousand times. It’s just an old run down ruin of a building half way up the mountain. Because it is so far in, it isn’t popular with the tourists, plus it’s pretty boring. Not even good views. I only come here to be alone and think. Life is often boring, I sometimes get depressed.

“Oh, how did I get here?” I said, as if I’d just beamed in.

“This is my home,” he said, a bit aggressively.

“Pffft. This is a pile of rocks with a broken roof. Nobody lives here.”

“Look again,” the child said. Suddenly some dust blew in my eyes. When I cleared them, I was standing in a castle, before me was the child, but he was not a child, he seemed to be a king.

“This is my home,” he stomped his foot in anger, “Find me!”

I woke up. I was still in the ruin. The sun was shining through the missing walls. The forest sparkling and full of life around me.

Laying on the rough stone floor in front of me was the stick the child had been shaking at me. Suddenly I had a purpose.