Pen Friends ~ Our Dual POV Prompt Challenge was so much fun and we loved each entry, (short & long) so much that we decided to post them all! Part 1 will be the POV #1 “visitor to the new world.” Part 2 (to come) will be POV 2, Native to the world.

It was nothing like my world…

It was nothing like my world. I could not imagine nor remember seeing a place as beautiful. The grass was like a plush carpet, thick and luscious and soft as silk. The mountain peaks rose tall and majestic from the valley floor with rivers of water flowing down their crevices, pooling into clear, cool streams. These streams flourished with life: fish of all kinds, ducks of teal green and majestic eagles soaring above.

Beside these streams are trees, planted close enough to be fed by the water and large enough to provide shade and comfort for those who come to rest. They are abundant with opulent mouthwatering fruits, their colors as vibrant as a rainbow stretched across sun-kissed clouds. On the banks of the river deer have gathered, the sound of the water drawing them in to quench their thirst. The air is filled with the aroma of a fresh spring rain, mingled  with the sweet fragrances of a multitude of flowers.

In the distance is a city, rising strong and majestic. It bids me to come and be taken in; welcomed as a guest, treated as one loved beyond measure. Indeed, as I enter the city, I see familiar faces; some of those I have known and loved, others I have never met and yet, somehow … I know them still.

I feel peace; I feel safe. I am loved and celebrated. This is the place for which I have been searching. This is the City of God.

Rebecca Henry’s prompt reply:

It was nothing like my world…my eyes raked across the menacing darkness of the sky. Only moons lit this strange world, half covered in mist, and I wondered how anything survived. I followed her footsteps, trying not to slip through the slimy green moss that covered every surface or bang my head on rubbery tree branches.

She waited for me at the bank of a river. The water looked icily cold yet a green rope rose from the water into her hands and the current swirled around her feet. I balked as I glanced past her, seeing the sheer edge of the planet drop out into space. None of the extensive training I received prepared me for the reality of visiting this unexpected place. Or her next actions.

With more of a wild screech than a graceful leap, she dove into the water. I shouted as it engulfed her and sped her body toward the precipice. My heart rose into my throat as I witnessed her streaming blonde hair topple and lose itself in the current…her death. How would I respond to the leaders when I returned without her? I covered my face, wishing to erase what just occurred, wishing my training actually taught me how to respond to the unexpected.

I dropped to my knees and gulped another breath of this foreign air, tinged with moisture, when two wet feet landed in front of me. I glanced up to see her again, the hand still gripping the green rope while the other brushed her hair from her face. Everything about her glistened in the surreal world. This was all a dream.

Kris D. Keith’s prompt reply:

It was nothing like my world. I am use to the quiet sounds of community, the rhythmic music of village life. Sure nature may interject from time to time, a solo breaking through the clangor, but the sounds of my people, the sounds of life, always filled my days. But not here. Here, in this place, I find I can only hear the deafening roar of the waterfalls. The Lions they are called, and number more than seven. They fall off the edge of the land like frosting on a cake, meeting Lake Bestia below, a fifty step drop.

It is here I met him, just as the Seer said I would. Dark of hair and of eye, like the rest. Tall of height and slim of waist, as they are. All words the Seer said, and all turn true. But he did not tell me of his eyes.

Donna Stone’s prompt reply:

It was nothing like my world. “You’ll be alright,” they said. “We wouldn’t send you out into a wilderness where there is no hope.”

I am the forty-ninth Seeker. Since the Betrayal, they send one citizen out each year to see if there are other collectives like ours, cut off, surviving on their own. Not one had ever returned.

I had been chosen by lot. The Elders had come to the fortress where we were kept, those who question the need to isolate ourselves. Numbers were assigned, and mine was chosen. I welcomed it. I would prove that we were not alone, that we could live as we had before, travelling and trading with our neighbors.

My quest began at dawn of the chosen day. “Go with God,” the Chief Elder said. “And if you can, bring us news of the others.”

I had few provisions when I was lowered over the City Wall. There was no gate, for no one ever left our collective, and none ever entered. I had an ax, a bow with seven arrows, a small cask of water and flint to start a fire. The world beyond was stark. There was a trail of sorts, leading south across the rocky ground. I, as forty-eight before me, started out. For two days, it was the same. Early in the afternoon of the third day, I climbed a hill. At the summit, I began to see life. Not people, not even animals. Small bushes, patches of grass and the like. I came upon a spring. Grass surrounded the small pool and I heard birds from a nearby thicket of bushes. Apprehensively, I tested the water. First, I felt it. Cool, refreshing. Then I smelled it. Fresh, sweet. Sweeter than the purified water in my cask, what little was left. Only then did I dare put it to my lips. Glorious, energizing, life-restoring! I drank my fill, something I had not done since leaving home.

Hilary Bowen’s Prompt reply:

This is nothing like my world. The biggest difference should be the high peaks that virtually disappear into the clouds. After all, the land of Trivaga is flat and featureless.

Katherine looked down at the town partially hidden in the mist and willed herself not to get vertigo.

She cursed under hear breath, angry at the weakness she felt. Angry too that whatever gods there were willed that this should be the way she would prove her worth as princess and heiress apparent to the crown after her marriage to the prince.

She missed the flat empty expanse of the yellow and blue churned together by her stallion Finn’s hooves.

The mountains of Mid’Arch blocked out large swaths of sky.

Yet this was the way of the world, “her world of royalty” her mother called it. Monarchies traded, “sold” she thought glumly the lives of their younger royals, mixing bloodlines and thereby securing lasting peace among neighboring countries.

So she would marry the eldest of the Pen’tuch family, crown prince Ferris, and Eirris, her counterpart, Prince Eirris would marry her elder sister Rosie.

She smirked, imagining Eirris getting used to the hot arid climate of her home.

It wasn’t that she minded so terribly being a princess, or even being a princess here, transplanted to Mid’Arch. She had rather enjoyed herself the first year, all balls and parties and getting to know the Pen’tuch’s and their friends and kin. It was just that right now, up in the mountains feeling the first stirrings of vertigo, it was so uncomfortable.

She cursed again, remembering as she did so that cursing was one of those things that a princess of Mid’Arch did not do. In her home, oaths flowed off the tongue as fast as the beat of a fine horse’s hooves. But here, despite the rugged landscape, the people had softer tongues. And she still didn’t know what she was looking for. King and council had only told her that she must find the true vision of Mid’Arch.

She looked around again, glancing briefly in the four directions of the compass. The town was below her to the south and to the west the mountains continued to climb ever higher into the spines. But without a clear objective she had no idea which direction to continue looking in. She decided to turn around. The shadows were lengthening and it was at least a two-hour trek back to the base of the spines, a climb she had no desire to do in the dark.