Fantasy Train Story
It still happens occasionally. "It" being something I've always called the switch. I'll be living my normal, quiet all-American life one moment and with little warning I'm sucked into the other realm to live out an adventure of my alter ego-Virago Blue.
Yes, I know, you're confused. Virago Blue is a pseudonym I use when writing. Virago Blue is also a fantasy character, my alter ego. It's hard to explain and even more difficult to understand, especially if you happen to be one of the non-believers. Let me clarify that. If the idea of a past life seems laughable to you, you are probably a non-believer.
Let me try to explain the switch in simple terms. My past life never ended. A glitch in the system or a joke played on me by the powers that be, I don't know. Virago Blue's life circle never closed before I began this one. My two circles overlap and the conflicting times have worried a tear in the fabric. Therefore, I slip through on occasion.
My life is strange, to say the least, but it has never been boring. My parents used to say, "That's our little Viv. One big imagination that one has. She'll be famous one day." Of course, they didn't imagine I would be telling my stories to a bunch of strangers on the internet.
My children do not know yet, although sometimes I fear they suspect something is different about me. My husband knows. He deals with it quite well. He thinks I'm cute, quirky and creative. You see, my husband, my soulmate, is the same man I fell in love with back then. Once a soulmate, always a soulmate. Of course, he doesn't remember his past life as Lord Peerce DarkBlade since that life circle closed for him.
So, let's back up. As I mentioned, I never know when I will be pulled into the alternate reality. This time it happened over dirty socks...
"Damn. How does this happen?" Viv tossed another lone sock into the odd sock basket. At least eleven dejected little socks in various states of wear and tear pout up at her from the basket. "Don't you worry, boys, I'll find your mates. They can't just walk off. Ha!" (Humor is very important to Viv while performing domestic tasks.)
Viv tromps up the stairs, knowing her offspring must be hiding the mates somewhere among their action figures, toy cars and soccer paraphernalia. Kicking a cheap looking carnival toy leprechaun out of the way, she lowers to her knees and cautiously peers into the dark recesses of the underside of one child's bed. "Aha! Just as I thought."
Another pathetic little sock stares back at her from beneath a pile of discarded Batman underwear, coloring books and dust bunnies. She crawls deeper under the bed, wedging herself tightly within the confines of the dusty darkness and sneezes. "Achoo!"
"Got it." Viv backed out from the cramped quarters and stood quickly, her discovered booty clutched to her chest. The room quickly darkens as infinite black and white stars threaten her vision. With a thud and a "Bloody hell!" she falls to the floor, the black stars having won the battle.
"I said, get out of my way before you lose an appendage, you creepy little green ogre." Virago sneers down at the overzealous leprechaun.
"Not until you let me give you a gift." The little green man smiled evilly, patting the noticeable swell beneath the leather apron.
"I'll take your little shoemaker's hammer and shove it up your arse if you don't leave me alone. You've already ruined my chaps with your spillage and I didn't bring any spares." Virago pushed past the nasty creature.
"C'mon, pussycat, kiss my blarney stone."
The dagger strapped to her thigh was burning into her skin. She was itching to release it from the studded sheath and pummel the tiny clover-humper to a slimy pulp. Something about the little man made her shudder. It could be the resemblance to the village cleric or maybe it was the sickly green pallor of his skin. After two days of no sex, Virago was near the breaking point. If the little elf didn't get out of her way soon she feared she may start humping one of those pointy ears. For now she chose to avoid him. "Listen, Lucky or whatever your name is, even a small thorn causes festering, you would do well to keep that in mind." She tried not to snicker but the temptation was overwhelming. He stood, mouth agape, and if it were possible for a little green man to turn red with rage, he did.
"You bitch, you slut, you whore."
"I try, I really do."
"May the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind and illegitimate children chase you so far over the hills of damnation that the Lord himself can't find you with a telescope!" The leprechaun sputtered in outrage.
"Yeah, sure, fine, whatever. See you in the dining car, stretch." Virago waved him off and slipped through the door of one car into the next, the creak of leather and jangle of chain mail following behind. She never saw the evil little grin on the leprechaun.
"Oh... " Virago breathed.
The nameless man strained.
"... my... "
"It's coming." He strained more. The veins bulged in his arms and neck.
"... Goddesses!" Virago cried out.
"Almost, Senorita." His large, work-callused hands gripped tighter.
"Oh my Goddesses, Oh my Goddesses, Oh my Goddesses! Pull it out!" Virago shrieked, still not believing the situation she was in this time.
"Wait... " He shifted his weight to add leverage. It didn't help.
The carriage driver relented with a shake of his head. "My apologies, Senorita. I just can't get a good enough grip. It's too slippery." He took a step back from the mess. "That hole is too deep." His chest heaved as he swiped at the beads of sweat on his forehead.
Virago paced, quietly cursing the deep rut in the road. That evil little leprechaun was behind this. Just wait until I get back on that train, she thought. "I cannot miss the train. I must be in the village in three hours. How far is it from here?" Her eyes fixed on the desolate landscape and empty horizon. Yellow dust already coated the carriage.
"Too far for a lady to walk. I will unhook the mule and ride into town for help. It could be days before another carriage passes through here. Do not worry, Senorita." The driver smiled uneasily behind his thick mustache. "You will be fine if you remain in the carriage."
"Sure. Fine. Whatever. Just kick the mule into a quicker stride, por favor?" Virago hiked up her voluminous skirts and disappeared into the carriage.
The carriage was dusty and dark, but at least the view of the sun setting on the plains eased her aggravation for a few moments. The dress was confining and odd. She hated dresses. Undoubtedly the leprechaun had a hand in outfitting her in this way. A warrioress never wears a dress. All the fabric just gets in the way. How could she possibly straddle a horse in this silken contraption?
Despite the cushions on the carriage seat, she still fidgeted. The neckline of the plum-colored bodice dipped dangerously low to reveal an excessive amount of cleavage and creamy skin. She straightened the skirt and crossed her long, muscular legs. "There now. Perhaps I can pass for a debutante." Her 'harumph' was cut short by the sound of thundering hooves and the tinkling of chain. She tried to pull her sword out from under her seat, ready to do battle with whatever would come through the door.
"Whoa, Hurricane, whoa." The deep timbre of the male voice raised something within the woman Virago. Surely if he was trying to sneak up on the carriage for some awful purpose he would not feel the need to speak to his horse?
Virago knelt on the floor. Her sword and scabbard remained stuck beneath the seat. The door flew open and crashed against the carriage. A large, dark figure loomed over her, blocking any light from the passage. His legs were long and sturdy, hips narrow and filled out to a muscled chest visible beneath the open laces of his black silk shirt. His dark, wavy hair moved in the slight breeze.
Virago was the perfect picture of distressed damsel. Wavy gold locks strayed across her eyes and slid over her arm, barely concealing the ample bosom which now jiggled as she attempted to dislodge her sword. She held her tongue. For the moment.
"Fear not, fair lady, for I have come to carry you to safety. I am the Dark Knight, avenger of do-bads and naughty deeds, and the unknown masculinity every woman of good taste and fair fortune craves." He held his gloved hand out to her, one booted foot in the carriage, his black satin cloak waving in the evening breeze.
.... There is more of this story ...