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Dream This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   I dreamt a dream of knights and chivalry, of medieval wars, of adventuring parties searching deep dungeons for treasure, of evil monsters, dragons, demons, and other fiends from deep below the earth's thin crust. We drank good ale and wine; we ate good meat before starting out on the road to destiny, be it victory or defeat. My company of bounty hunters, grave robbers, disturbers of ancient treasure, set out on a journey to find adventure and glory, risks and challenges, battles to fight and young lasses to sweep off their feet.

At dawn we took the first steps, followed by more, and many miles passed before we reached a place to set camp. There must have been at least nine of us, most of whom had the ability to sword fight and win in battles against whatever stood in their way. I was brought along as a scout, mostly because I had begged. They felt I was worthless, and in fact after a while I began to think so myself. I was no good in the next few days, for although I walked as fast as I could, I couldn't keep up with the rest with my short legs.

On the fifth day, or maybe the fourth, we were ambushed by a king and his army, who happened to be one of the many men angry at my companions for robbing his vault. In fact, he was extremely angry, so angry that he was about to kill us. After a minute of thought, he decided to toss us into the dungeon and torture us. We were captured by the overwhelming number of soldiers and literally tossed into a crowded cell in an average dark and dank medieval dungeon. In the night, somehow, being as small as I was when I was six years of age, I passed through the bars and grabbed the keys from the snoring guard. I opened my companions' cell and all the other prisoners of the evil king were freed with the turning of two hundred and seven keys in two hundred and seven keyholes. My friends quietly administered coup de grace on the sleeping guards. We ran up the stairs and fought the wakened soldiers on our way to the exit. With the chaos of two hundred and seven escapees behind us, brandishing what weapons they could find, we escaped. And as the din of the battle was raging in our ears, we ran into the woods, under the boughs and branches of tall elms which covered our retreat.

Such was the end of this short adventure, and so ended this dream. But this world still dwells with vivid colors and memories in my mind. Every now and then I like to journey back to this world to escape the troubles of today's world. This was my childhood, and forever it will live close to my heart. As I will never forget this dream, I will never forget my childhood.n




This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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