CE: March, the Garden.

 

You can find Character Encounter's, and Kendra's excellent blog HERE.
And now, the story.

The progress on the roof was coming along nicely. Now if only I could get a picture of the roof without getting the apple trees in the shot too...
I stepped back several paces, holding the camera up, and backed into a wall. I took a picture, and then realized that my backyard has no walls in it. I whipped around and there was a stone wall! I moved backwards and ran into someone. Thinking it was a roofer, I turned, ready to apologize, and gave a violent start. It was not a roofer in jeans, a t-shirt, and a baseball cap in front of me. No, it was a tall, dark-haired man. Underneath his black leather jerkin was a dark blue shirt. His pants were the same dark blue, tucked into black boots. His arms were filled with an assortment of oddities - clothes mostly, though I noticed a few masks. One had fallen to the ground when I bumped him.
"Excuse me," he said simply, with a hint of a smile on his lips, as he bent to pick up the mask. He succeeded in dropping a shirt and a slipper.
"No - it's my fault. I'm sorry! Let me help you," I replied, bending down and picking up the things that had fell. "It's always so difficult to carry large quantities of clothes, isn't it?" I said. "Whenever I'm doing it, I always drop something and have to come back for it later."
"Yes. I think I'm in that predicament presently," he replied. "Thank you."
"Wait!" I said. "Sorry... Can you tell me where I am?" I had gotten a look at my surroundings. I was in a courtyard-type garden area. My house was no where in sight. The wall I had backed into was a palisade built of rocks; the outer wall of a castle. Directly in front of me a garden filled with vegetables and herbs was laid out, and several women in long skirts and aprons bent double to pick the choicest of the harvest. When their baskets were filled, they raised them to their hips, wiped the sweat from their brows, and walked to a wooden door, which led into what could only be a castle.
The man looked at me, thinking my question odd. He fixed me with a penetrating stare.
"You don't know where you are?" he asked.
"Well... I, uh, kind of lost my way," I said.
"You're in the servant's courtyard," he said, "in the castle, in Kasteel City. Over there is the kitchen."
"Oh, of course, the kitchen!" I said. "I'm new."
"I see." He started walking again.
"Wait!"
"What is it now?" he asked, turning.
"Where are you going with all that?" I asked, not really knowing why I was keeping from whatever work he was about.
"To the dungeon."
"That's an odd place to bring clothes."
"Yes, well... I'm an odd man," he said. "Now may I carry on my way? My little wife would not take kindly to you talking to me so long."
"Your... little wife... Are you Draegond?" I asked. Suddenly it all made sense.
"Yes." His brows knit. "How do you know my name?"
"Long story... Speaking of stories - why are you taking it over? You weren't meant to be anyone! Only the nameless guard, and now you're only one step away from a main character!"
"I don't understand. Explain how you know my name."
"And no one told me you looked like Patrick Dempsey! Yes, you are definitely going to be the favorite."
"Patrick Dem- what are you talking about, girl?"
"And what a nice outfit you have... hmmm... I wonder how I could describe it... I like describing clothes, but I'm afraid I'm not very good at it. By the way, do you want to tell me what those clothes you are carrying are really for?"
"Only if you tell me who you are, and how you know my name. And who this Patrick person is," Draegond replied.
"Alright, like I said, long... confusing... story. Books, you know books?"
"Yes..."
"Well, I write books, and you are part of one of my books. And every month Kendra has a character encounter and this month I guess I wandered here and now I'm encountering you... so that's how I know your name. It kind of just came to me. It's supposed to sound like 'dragon.'"
"Yes, because I have always wanted to see the dragons."
"Exactly! Oh, and Patrick Dempsey is an actor."
"In a troupe?"
"Well, sort of... he plays a doctor on... in the troupe of Television."
"Ah." Draegond raised his eyebrows and said 'ah' in a way that suggested the thought 'oh, yes, she's insane.'
"So, what are those clothes for?"
"I'll tell you if you promise to keep the secret."
Evidently taking me for someone whose lost it, gone crazy, nuts, insane, bonzo, no longer in possession of one's faculties, three fries short of a happy meal... WACKO! [aside: I apologize for the StarGate quote, it just kind of came out] Draegond decided to trust that in my insanity, I wouldn't tell anyone his secret.
He leaned closer and said in my ear: "I'm breaking my friend out of his cell in the dungeon, and we're going to the masquerade held for the princess."
Maybe he thought that I would think that he was crazy too.
"I see. Masquerade. Paper faces on parade. Masquerade. Hide your face so that the world will never find you." I may have accidentally burst into song.
If we had been in America, and if Draegond had actually been Patrick Dempsey, he might have taken this opportunity to call some nice people dressed in white to take me away to a nice, white padded cell. Luckily, we were no where near America, and Draegond just stared at me strangely.
"I must get going now," he said. "Goodbye. I hope you get un-lost soon."
"Thanks," I said. "Good luck with the masquerade! If a bowl of punch accidentally gets spilled on someone... it's my fault."
He just turned and walked quickly toward the dungeon door, which also opened up into the garden-courtyard-thing.
I let out a sigh and turned around - and there was my house!
"Boy, these Character Encounters are just getting weirder and weirder," I said, as I ran back inside to the safety of home.
THE END

I have NO clue why Draegond looks like Patrick Dempsey. Or why he's taking over the story. Actually, I haven't written a word for probably a month. Hopefully this CE and some homework for SAT class I did today will get me back in the writing mood. I've been on a reading kick.


In other news: I actually might be three fries short of a happy meal... WACKO! Yesterday, while it was super windy, it was "Whoa! That's so amazing! Let's go outside and see if we can get hit with a branch!" Today it's, "I wonder what my fruit smoothie would taste like if I put frozen peas in it?" (Mom: "No."). Tonight... I'm listening to Hannah Montana's first album. SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF HERE! Actually no, don't. I'm enjoying her first album. Once, my friend and I were huge Hannah Montana fans. I bought the CD, but before my parents let me listen to it, my dad and I sat down and read through the lyrics of the songs, and he told me what was wrong with some of the thoughts, and which songs I shouldn't listen to. Some of the lyrics are kind of great. "I know where I stand, I know who I am, I would never run away when life gets bad." I think that lyric kind of backfired in Miley Cyrus' life, unfortunately.
Just listening to her early music again brings back such a flood of nostalgia and emotion. It almost makes me want to cry, because I miss being ten, and putting on Hannah Montana concerts with my friend down the street. I miss rocking out to this music on summer nights. I miss our sleepovers, and our games of make believe. Life wasn't so complicated then, it was just naive innocence.
Anyway, I should be off and away to bed. I've got a Jeeves and Wooster book to read. Thank You, Jeeves, of which my favorite episode(s) of the TV show are based.

Live long and prosper.