Once Upon
a Summer Day
One
sunny day in New York City, a girl named Danielle sat on a bench outside the
library, reading a book. Danielle was 10
years old. She had short, curly, light
brown hair, beautiful jade-green eyes, an older brother named Henry, and a book
obsession. She was rarely seen out of
the company of one of her favorite stories, and her favorite place was the
library. Today she was reading Once Upon a Fairy Tale, a collection of
stories from different time periods and places.
Henry, 3 years older, walked up. “Danielle,
it’s 5:30 and we’ve gotta get home for dinner.”
She ignored him. “C’mon, drop the
book and get up.” Reluctantly, Danielle
took one last look at the picture of the medieval princess in the illustration,
wished she could just slip into the story, closed the book, tucked it under her
arm, and followed Henry home. That night
she fell asleep reading, and dreamed she was there, at the medieval town,
helping defend it from the enemy warriors fast approaching...
Danielle opened her eyes.
Her first thought was that she was still dreaming, so she tried opening
and closing her eyes. No, her
surroundings were just as strange. She
was lying on a strange bed in a stone cottage, surrounded by strange flowers
and herbs, and a man and girl were fussing over her. “Where- where am I?” The girl stopped dabbing strange-smelling
paste onto her bruised leg- Bruised? Danielle
wondered- and placed the jar on a table.
‘Father, she awakens!”
Awakens? Things were getting very
strange here, and Danielle felt like she’d seen the girl somewhere before... The man rushed over. “Are you quite alright? I am Arthur Wishell, and this is my daughter,
Genevieve. You had quite a tumble.” Danielle looked questioningly at him. “Tumble?”
Genevieve looked surprised. “You
were found unconscious at the bottom of Rocky Hill. Wouldn’t you call that quite a fall?!”
Danielle had a vague idea of what had happened. It had happened once in a book she’d read,
though she’d never thought it could really happen. Danielle thought, however ridiculous it might
sound, that she might have somehow been transported into the book, and she was
determined to get back. In the meantime,
however, Genevieve had suggested that they go down to the marketplace to sell
the day’s harvest, and Danielle, who had never seen a medieval market before,
would never have dreamed of saying no.
On the way, she saw children with their parents, gathering eggs or
hanging out the laundry, and she missed her family more than ever, but then a
merchant called “Fresh fruit!” and waved a particularly juicy peach in the
girls’ faces, and Danielle was distracted.
The marketplace was a whirl of color and sound, with merchant selling
things like beautiful, rich cloth, expensive-looking jewelry, and bustling,
noisy livestock. Genevieve traded some eggs for a bushel of corn, a plump
chicken for a bag of wheat, and a pretty bit of weaving for a bushel of
blackberries. Danielle was delighted, rushed over to the nearest merchant, and
tried to trade her watch for a pretty silk handkerchief. Unfortunately, the man
had no idea what the watch was, and was unwilling to make the exchange until
Danielle produced a charm bracelet from her sleeve as her final offer.
The next morning, Danielle was trying to figure of how to
get out of the book and back into the 21st century when Genevieve
came in. “Excuse me, but my father
thinks he might know how to help you get back to- to- wherever you came from.” Danielle stopped shaking the book and drops
it on her foot. “Ow. Really?” “Yes,” replied Genevieve. “He believes that the sorceress may be able
to help you.” “The sorceress?” Danielle
asked, taken aback, but Genevieve was already in the kitchen, starting on
breakfast.
They
walked down to the market, this time going past all the cheery bright shops and
bustling noise, into a gloomier, dismal place.
There were fewer houses and much less noise, and Danielle wasn’t pleased
when they walked up to the door of a spooky old shack and knocked on the door. A voice said, “Come in,” and they entered,
and for once Danielle was pretty sure she was not the only one who felt
uncomfortable. “Greetings,” said the
voice again, “what may I do to help you?”
Danielle, who had been envisioning the sorceress as a grouchy old witch,
perhaps stirring a cauldron of ominous-looking green slop, was surprised to see
a young woman with raven-black curls and piercing green eyes looking back at
her. A teenage girl Danielle thought she
could recognize as Princess Helena from the story-the story she was hopefully
about to leave, thought Danielle. Mr.
Wishell took the young woman into the attic to explain what they needed done,
leaving the girls alone with the princess, who was looking curiously at
Danielle. “Who is this strange maiden?”
the princess asked Genevieve. “I have
never seen the likes of her before.”
Danielle shifted uncomfortably as Genevieve tried to explain her
situation politely without revealing too much.
She was beginning to rather dislike the Princess Helena, who had seemed
an appealing enough character in the book, but was now more bossy and
talkative. “Back at the palace we would
never have had to wait this long for a simple beauty potion-and as it’s not
really needed I probably should have simply stayed behind...” it went on and on
and on, until Danielle was sure Mr. Wishell and the sorceress would never be
back... “Danielle! Please come up!” Mr. Wishell called, and she wasted no time
obeying.
The
sorceress handed Danielle a cup of something that tasted like extra-sweet apple
juice, and said, “When you have finished the glass, close your eyes and picture
where and when you want to be. Be sure not to think of any thing else, or there
could be unintended side effects.”
Danielle finished the cup in a few long gulps, and was picturing
Woodlawn Rd., on a bench outside the library at 5:30 on a Sunday afternoon,
when Helena’s voice drifted into the back of her mind, complaining, irritable, and
she felt a whirling spinning sensation- and the next moment she was sitting on
a bench in front of the library, and Henry was saying ‘Danielle, it’s 5:30 and we’ve
gotta get home for dinner.” She followed
him quietly for a bit, but then a strange sight caught her eye. A young teenage girl in a red velvet gown and
her brown hair done up in a bun, was standing next to the library shouting at
the poor librarian who was trying to go home.
“Take me back to the palace immediately, or I shall have you
executed! I am a princess, you know!” “Oh,
no,” Danielle groaned. It was Helena.
