CORRUPTED FILE [Lumina Chronicles Past Drafts]

Level Four

[MAGGIE'S PoV] 

"What?" I gasped. I couldn't trust my legs to stand, so I stayed seated on the dusty stone floor of the kitchen I suddenly found myself in. The door frame I'd passed through had vanished. So had the shelves of art supplies and the other familiar sights of the art building basement.

My heart pounded in my chest and I supported myself on the table in front of me as I pushed myself to my feet. I walked slowly, shakily. My throat was tight. I wanted to scream, or cry, or something, but I couldn't figure out how to make my mouth work.

In a daze, I left the kitchen and started down a long corridor. There were no windows here, and the hall was lit only by a torch every few yards. It was like some sort of medieval castle.

Up ahead I heard voices. Murmurs and laughter and words that didn't sound like English. I had to get out of here. If I got outside then maybe I could figure out where I was and how to get back.

My vision blurred, fading in and out. I kept one hand on the wall to steady myself as I moved as quickly as I dared around the corner. I needed to find a door, or stairs. There had to be a way out somewhere, right?

"Oh!"

I rounded a corner at full speed and collided with someone who's arms were full of laundry. The woman managed to catch herself on the wall but the clothing flew everywhere.

She exclaimed something in a language I didn't recognize. Her blue-green eyes were wide with shock, and the odd shimmering sequins that covered her temples glinted in the dim lighting of the hall.

"I-I'm sorry..." The words barely escaped my lips. My legs went shaky again.

She stepped toward me, eyes still wide, and extended a brown skinned hand to touch my face. Her fingers were long and delicate, but calloused.

I leaned away from her.

"Don't be scared, I'll help you... are you lost?" At least she could speak English.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to try to speak again.

"Here, it's okay." She bent and quickly scooped up the laundry. "Come, follow me. We'll get you somewhere safe, then we can figure out what's going on, okay?"

I nodded again and slowly followed her. She was only and inch or so taller than me, but looked to be at least a few years older. Despite my disorientation, the woman seemed harmless enough, and had a gentle, pretty face.

"My name is Faye." She glanced over her shoulder at me as we entered what looked like a tiny, disorganized sewing room. "Can you tell me your name?"

"...Maggie," I answered.

"Alright Maggie... Magpie. Don't be scared. I'll take care of you."

~*~

"Magpie sweetie, are you awake? I have dinner for you..."

I rolled over and pressed the threadbare old pillow over my head, trying to block out the obnoxiously perky woman's voice, as well as the light that came when she pushed aside the curtain that separated my tiny room from the rest of her workshop.

"Magpie?" She repeated the nickname I'd come to hate during my week stuck here, and the end of the cot sagged as she sat down on it.

She wouldn't go away until I answered her— I'd learned that the hard way. So after a long pause, I removed the pillow from my head and sat up with a groan. The tiny room was stuffy and smelled like sweat. I seriously needed a shower.