The Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword

Chapter 3

Thomas was scared. All he could see in every direction was words. Black and white text on a yellowed, page-like ground. He walked in a random direction for a while. But he was back to where he was when he started. The paper creased as he tried to move.

A dot. Thomas could see a dot. Slowly moving towards him. As the dot came towards him, Thomas recognised a young man.

The man approached him. He was tall and athletic, he looked not much older than 25. he paused and began to talk in an English language but slower and slightly slurred. Old-fashioned as though the man had not spoken for a while. Raw like every word hurt his dry throat.

Wait a minute. The man was talking in English. Very slow English. He stroked his long, messy beard "How did you get here?"

"I don't know." Thomas recognised the man. He didn't know where from. But he definitely recognised him. "I was in the girl's bathroom. I started reading, and now I'm here."

"Why were you in the girl's bathroom?" the man said with a chuckle.

"I was looking for my friend. Megan Thompson." The man looked sad for a moment. "Well I haven't seen any girls around here." He said almost angrily.

"Are you sure? She's taller than me. She has long hair that she always ties back. And she's pretty. Really pretty."

"I have not seen any girls." The man shouted back at him. Thomas stared at the man. He saw pain and suffering. And longing. Longing for a friend. "Um Sir. Where am I?"

"How should I know?"

"Well you look like you've lived here for a while and um..."

"I have lived here for a while. But that does not mean that I know where I am." He laughed heartily, "What's your name boy?"

"Thomas. Thomas Stephenson."

"Walk with me Thomas Stephenson."