Messanger by Azzandra

Anne slouched in her seat. She often wondered when had school gotten so boring.

"Miss Wise, are you with us?" the teacher asked.

Anne realised she was being spoken to and straightened up.

"Yes, ma'am."

She then zoned out again, her eyes firmly set on the clock. She could've sworn the thing went backwards just now. The clock must be rigged.

The teacher was droning on and on about some hundred-year-long war. Anne was only half-listening.

Finally, the bell rang.

Anne yelped happily and dashed towards the door.

Free, at last. Now on to something REALLY important.


Anne tip-toed through the back yard. The sun was near setting, and somewhere, a dog was barking eagerly. The little heat that pesisted allowed her to wear a simple T-shirt and pants.

Her feet shufled through the fresh grass. Mrs. Coneigh, the next-door neighbour, was just going in, moving from the lawn chair to the couch. The obese woman was an annoyance for most people in the neighbourhood, many times due to her complaining, but to Anne especially because when it was warm, she always stood in the shade of the Wise family's tree, in the corner of the back yard.

The tree as quite large, but not tall. It hardly exceeded the house's roof and the bark was rough, with crevasses, allowing Anne to climb it often.

But that was not why Anne came to it every day, after getting chores, school and homework out of the way (ignoring them, in other words).

She rubbed her hands together feverly. Looking around one more time, to make sure there wa nobody looking, she placed her hands on the bark.

"Open..." she whispered.

Three magenta-coloured lines slashed vertically, then there was a high- pitched whirring sound. Anne narrowed her green eyes and half-snarled.

Soon, much like confetti made of light, colourful lines and specks started appearing. Then, accompanied by popping and whizzing sounds, similar to fireworks.

Finally, after going through every colour in the crayon box, there was a red burst of sparks and Anne felt the familiar pull of falling through dimensions.

The falling feeling stopped, and Anne felt a pit in her stomach. She openned her eyes and surveyed her surroundings.

She was sitting on a vaguely-coloured crystal platform, floating in mid- air.

Around was nothing, except four white walls, so bright they seemed to glow. She climbed to her feet and set her feet firmly on the platform.

She looked around, until she saw the mirror in a corner. Smiling, she leaned forward slightly.

The crystal platform shook for a moment, then started to advance rapidly, towards the mirror.

Anne could see her reflection, black hair in a ponytail, blazing green eyes, and a curious blue silk gypsy shirt, patchy dark half-leather-half- various-materials pants, with matching brown boots. And of course, the blue scark around her middle, with strange letters, stating her name and occupation.

Anne Wise, Messanger.

Suddenly, Anne hurled herself and the platform towards the mirror and the next moment, she was in a forest.

Now she was visibly confused. She stopped and landed the platform, then stepped off it.

The platforms were the usual means of transportations for messangers and couriers. They were made of a volatile material, that was harnessed using magic, then linked mentally to the user. It did not let go of the flier unless mentally instructed to do so, which resulted in the ability to touch great speeds without any danger of somebody falling off. Another option was to drive the platforms manually, using a specially-designed helm. It was made of a certain kind of wood, best suited for the user. Anne's was made of oak. She often used it, as it was much more amusing than leaving your hands dangling in mid-air.

Right now, though, Anne was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to be here. The mirror should've taken her where her services were needed. And there was nobody there.

She looked around, and her face lit up.

Between two tall and thin trees was an old cloaked figure, at a table, writing something.

Anne approached, slightly apprehensive. She couldn't see their face, but the sleek hand with a diamond ring showed it was most likely female.

"Hello?" Anne asked softly.

"Hello," the figure replied without looking up. Yes, female. And old.

"Uhm..." Anne was at a loss of words.

The old woman chuckled, while removing her ring and placing it around a parchment. She raised the parchment, not really giving it to Anne, more like showing her.

"Take this across the river Anveze, in Mavdreiad. Give it to the Lady of Mavdreiad. It is utterly important that she gets it," the woman said, with a dangerous edge to her voice.

Of course it was, messangers of Anne's type only delivered the most important messages.

Anne jumpped on her platform, grabbing the helm and speeding up towards east.

Yes, this was living. Not cooped up in a classroom, or doing homework, or washing dishes, or getting constantly bullied by the other kids, but flying at 150 km/h.

This is what she was made for, Anne Wise, Messanger.

The End

Author Note: completely random. This story idea just came to me and I thought-- Wow, wouldn't it be cool to be a messanger in another world?

So I wrote this. Please review.