Into the Unknown || King Caspian

The storm never seemed to want to end that day. The huge drops of rain that fell vigorously from the sky wet everything, from the streets, to the windows of the buildings, to the roofs of the famous red double-decker buses and cars, up to the people, who walked hastily as every other day, not giving weight to dripping hair or soaked clothes, after all, you know, the umbrella is not very fashionable in England.

It was mid-August, although the London weather that afternoon resembled an autumn day, a kind of warning, perhaps, that the summer would soon come to an end, and that the time for holidays was getting shorter. But that, of course, didn't matter to Elizabeth: being only at the beginning of her career, she suspected that it would have been a long time before she could have left the confusion of London and enjoy a few days at sea.

Elizabeth Dorothea Jones, Liz for friends, Liz for anyone in fact, loved her job, had struggled to get it, however, her current position was making her rethink about being actually fit for the environment.

"I swear, if he tells me another time to rewrite this, I'll throw him and his damn film out of the window!" The young woman started to complain, whizzing outside the glass doors of the BBC building and down the stairs.

Her light brown hair being immediately victim of the rain, her clear skin now freezing under the touch of the wind and her green eyes wide open for anger and frustration.

Right beside her, in the impossible attempt to keep up with her, was her co-worker Finn, the closest thing she had to a family.

"I think you are overreacting a little, Liz. He's the director, I think it's normal that he wants everything to be perf..." he tried to talk her down, failing miserably.

"Overreacting?! Overreacting! I'm a screenwriter, Finn, not one of his sluts! Even if he insists on treating me like them!" She sharply interrupted him.

Elizabeth was furious with her employer, Mr Adams, for the manners he often used towards her. It seemed as if she was a sex toy in his eyes, not one of his writers, and he was never satisfied with her script for the film. With his pompous and arrogant ways he was slowing down all production. The woman was almost thinking of suing him for harassment and getting him out of the way.

"All right, all right! Just please stop shouting, you're killing my ears, you know?" Finn asked her ironically, eventually giving up, realising that he wasn't being of any help to her.

"I'm sorry, really. It's just...nothing seems to go the right way lately." She said, taking a long breath and slowing her walk.

"You are stressed," he asserted, stopping her and putting a hand on her shoulder, "you are working too much. Take a free day, I'm sure no one would dare to complain, and you can always say that you're working from home: it wouldn't be the first time you lock yourself into your fleet to write." He looked down at her with his bright blue eyes and gave her a charming smile.

The woman relaxed. "I believe you're right...", she eventually whispered.

"There are no doubts about that," he replied. Both burst into laughter, the tension now disappeared.

Elizabeth leaned her head to his chest, "What would I do without you Finn?" She asked him, sighing.

"Die from a nervous breakdown," he joked, leaving a kiss on her forehead.

It might seems like a not very English behavior, but Liz had always been a loving girl, and the two had become very close over the years.

"Hilarious," she fought back, chuckling.

"I need to go now, if I want to catch the last train, I'll call you tomorrow." She then told him, taking a step back.

"Try to sleep an hour or two, would you?" he demanded her. A hint of sincere concern was perceptible in Finn's voice, despite his jovial tone.

"Promise," she said, giving him a last smile.

"Good. We'll talk tomorrow then. Goodbye Liz."

He spoke, watching her walking away towards the subway entrance.

"Bye!" she shouted back, waving her hand and speeding up to reach the dry underground station.

✵✵✵✵

Elizabeth's fleet in Duke Street wasn't too far from the studios. She took the Central Line at White City and got off at Bond Street, arriving home in less than thirty minutes.

It wasn't a big apartment. The entrance leads to a cozy living room in a modern style, in which the bookcase stood out on the back wall, full of books, fantasy for the most part, which threatened to break through the shelves at any moment; on the right, separated only by a sliding door, there was a small kitchen, whose stoves were victims of Elizabeth's culinary experiments. Beyond the living area, there were two bedrooms, facing the opposite sides of a short corridor that ended with the bathroom.

It was now 6 o'clock and Elizabeth was too tired for anything that day, so she opted for a light dinner, followed by one of her beloved herbal teas, which she sipped lying on the couch, with a good book in her hands and a blanket on her legs. For the umpteenth time she had arrived at the last pages of Jules Verne's "Journey to the Mysterious Island", when fatigue prevailed over her hunger for adventure and dragged her into the arms of Morpheus.

✵✵✵✵

The next morning, Elizabeth awoke on the couch in the living room. It was relatively early: even with the alarm off, she was no longer used to sleeping late, and her biological clock had rung. After having put back the book and the blanket, the young woman decided to wake up under the cool jet of the shower and to wear something comfortable. A good half an hour later, she was sitting at the kitchen table, with a bowl of warm porridge and her laptop in front. She couldn't believe the number of e-mails and notifications she received at night, most of which she didn't even know whose they were. Didn't people ever take a break from social media? All those who sent those messages had nothing else to do but write to her?

With these thoughts Elizabeth finished her beloved porridge and, lazily, began to wash the dishes in the sink, before the pile became too high.

Sοaped, rubbed and rinsed thoroughly all the dishes, pots and cutlery used in the last two days, Elizabeth surrendered to a sigh of relief, then closed the water sink and prepare to dry. Although the knob was turned downwards, the jet decided not to run out, but indeed, if possible, began to flow more abundantly.

"What the hell...?!" exclaimed the woman, trying to stop the flow with the cloth but without obtaining any result.

Water soon began to spill out of the sink, flooding the entire kitchen. Fortunately, the young woman thought, the sliding door was closed, even though she didn't remember locking it, otherwise she would have found herself having to pull up water throughout the all house, while, in this way, she had to worry only about that room.

"All right, breathe, just breathe. There had to be a way to stop it." she said to herself, trying to remain rational and do not panic.

Every phenomenon had a cause, she thought, which in that case probably was some valve turned in the wrong direction. She then decided to check the pipes hidden by the doors under the sink, but it seemed that everything was in the right place.

Meanwhile the water level had risen at an impressive speed, reaching the height of her knees. She closed the doors with violence and let herself go to a desperate cry. She had no idea what was going on, why it was happening and how to get out of trouble. Frustrated, she fell into the chair, aware that she couldn't stop the water, which continued to rise at an unnatural speed.

It was only a few moments before the level reached her face. Elizabeth thought it was the end. In a instant she felt the desperate need for air, the oxygen in her lungs that decreased every second more. She closed her eyes for the pain, but when she reopened them she was no longer surrounded by the furniture of her kitchen, she wasn't surrounded by anything in fact, except by an immense expanse of water. She looked up and saw the light across the surface. It must not have been far. She swam with all her strength towards it, the absence of air now almost unsustainable. Within seconds, Elizabeth could finally pull her head out of the water and breathe again.

She was now alive, but she didn't know where she was or how she ended up there.

It had to be some sort of magic, an impossible amazing magic that had brought her into the unknown.