Pictureworld

The air around him started to thicken, weighed down by the thousands of golden particles that shimmered in the light. Soft, mellow music started to play from faraway, the gentle rhythm pulsing through his veins. A subtle aroma found its way to his nostrils, and his body tingled with anticipating wonder.

The spell had worked

The world around him started to change, mixing and blending with another. Gone was the comforting familiarity of his bedroom, and in its place stood a scene he had looked on many times, but never actually seen...

A stone-dark castle towered on a grassy moor, impressive and elegant despite its obvious age and dilapidation. Surrounding the castle for miles around were tents, modest ones and lavish ones, all teeming with crowds of people.

He switched the small egg-timer to his left hand, careful not to disturb its workings, lest he cut his visit to this world short. Careful not to attract any attention, he made his way forward into the crowd, listening to snippets of conversation on the way.

"...maybe we’ll be safe, bein’ so close to his castle an’ all..."

"...stupid girl, that Princess. I tell ya, he could’ve chosen Lord Derek’s daughter - much prettier face, she has..."

"...no stoppin’ him now. Poof, and he’ll end the world..."

Slowly, making his past the castle, he began to smell something. Something other than the combined sweat of hundreds of people - something stronger, not as pungent but filled with danger. His ears pricked up as he heard a slow, crackling sound, and he turned around to look at the castle.

"The castle! It’s on fire!"

And so it was true. The flames rose, quickly enveloping the building, and the thick, black smoke surged into the sky. The reactions of the crowd varied; some ran for their lives and others tried to smother the flames. Mass confusion and panic was on the verge of occurring.

Suddenly, the abundant smoke took on a shade of purple and gathered together to form the face of an old man, one no longer so powerful. The eyes of the smoke-face searched the crowd, and singled out the stranger. The lips moved to mouth five words. I’m trapped inside. Help me.

The boy raised the egg-timer to eye level, watching the last grains of sand drop to the bottom.

All of a sudden, he was back in his bedroom.

A beautiful, long-haired girl was there, holding a candle above a blackened canvas, tears streaming down her face.

"Is he gone?" she whispered.

He walked over to her, eyeing the canvas. It was - had been - one of his paintings, a fantasy world overtaken by a tyrannical wizard. The outside edges, with a mass of tents and people, was still intact. The castle, in the middle, was burnt out of the canvas, leaving a empty hole.

"Yes, Princess," he replied. "Your world is safe. He is gone."

Then the spell was chanted once more, and the air around them started to thicken...