A World Prior to my Own

October 27, 2009
By Rigel GOLD, St. Louis, Missouri
Rigel GOLD, St. Louis, Missouri
11 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
I don't mind living in a man's world, as long as I can be a woman in it- Marilyn Monroe

As I awoke from my nights slumber, I had felt as if I was in a alternate world, everything in the room was out of the ordinary and much more uncomplicated, even when I looked in the mirror I looked dissimilar. The face I had once known vanished; it is much longer at this moment than it had ever been before and I noticed my attire was tremendously out of the ordinary as well, I had a light rose pink gown and a crème white apron on as well as a crème white bonnet type cap on my head to match my apron perfectly. I thought over and over again in my head, is this just bizarre stunt? Where was my phone, my computer, all my electronic devices? They are all gone, I had torn my room apart but zilch showed up and all my garments, well they weren’t mine and they were just the same as what I was wearing now but a variety of colors.

The whole house I lived in was out of balance, nothing was alike, but the magnificently stained wooden chestnut mantle that was in this house since it was built in 1776 (which just so happens to be the year that the Declaration of Independence was written) by one of my great ancestors. The preponderance of this house was changed along the years that passed, being rebuilt around it and building additional space as well as updating the appearance to have more of a modern vibe. Is it at all probable that somehow I traveled back in time to the year the house was built, it doesn’t seem at all plausible, or it didn’t until I started hearing banging noises, the sort that would come from a hammer hitting a nail into wood that would before long become the wall of this house. I walked towards where I had heard the noise coming, walking past the area where the kitchen should be. I thought of what could have happened, why am I here, for a second and noticed that I had said where had the kitchen gone out loud? A young man wearing a tricorn hat, long stalking, leather shoes and beeches, answered my question saying “It’s still being built miss, but you can walk down to Zachariah and Josephine’s house to enjoy some fresh biscuits.” I don’t know where that is I stated, and he replied “are you sure miss, it’s the only house within the whole surrounding area of this here house we been building?” I replied back to him saying oh, I must just be out of my element today, I’m sorry for the bewilderment sir; well then I’ll just be on my way to have some of those fresh biscuits you were talking about they sound quite delicious right now.

I took my first steps out into this diverse world, this world that had existed prior to my own had, but the grass stand uncut, and vigorously long but a genuine deep green that you would only see in movies, but that’s what I once thought, now my way of thought is changing and becoming more vivid as this perplexing day repositions onward. The saunter to Zachariah and Josephine’s house was diminutive but brought immense tranquility toward my memorized mind.
As soon as I entered the door I was transported into a completely different room it was a bright white, and the chandelier was exquisite almost diamond like, so beautifully made I could bare to take my eyes off of it. Tables were strong upon the room with a rigid green table cloth that also hung clothed over the main window, to let in little light but just enough to see. White candles upon each table with a gold candle holder underneath it. What I didn’t notice from when I had first appeared in the magnificence doorway was that the room had been occupied by what had seemed like hundreds of men was only a mere fifty-five, and the mere girl I am had disrupted what had been going on in this vividly placed room. The men all looked at me in shock, I’m sure the men in this here room were all wondering the same thing just about now, how did this young women get here and why is she here?
A man of short stature had stood up from his seat and gestured his hand towards me (telling me to come closer with the movement of his hand) but I hesitated for I didn’t know what he wanted from me, but to probably know why I was here, of course, why wouldn’t he want to know how I just magically appeared in this room where a meeting was being held. The gentlemen spoke and said “Miss, would you come closer please, I would like to have a quarrel with you. “ I slowly stepped forward towards the man and as I came closer to him, I realized he wasn’t just any old guy, he was the living, breathing, and heart beating Benjamin Franklin. This couldn’t be happening, but it was really him, in the flesh! I was merely a foot away from being right in his personal space, and then I asked, is it really you, Benjamin? You look so immaculately put together….can I just touch your face? (To feel his skin would be a delicate in its own, a pleasure I never thought I’d ever experience in my twenty-five years alive.) Mr. Franklin looked up at me with delicate eyes and curiosity to why a woman of my standard would be so interested in feeling the grace of his well rounded face, but he looked at me and said “only if I could touch yours Elizabeth Faith.” (He knew my name, how could he know it, maybe when I was transferred into this alternate reality I became part of it like I had always existed here.)
Mr. Franklin, how do you know me so well? I hesitated saying this sentence, as if I had really known how he knew me so well. He looked up at me with sad eyes and pity all over his face as if I had just awoken form a coma that I had been in and apparently didn’t remember one thing that had been of deep importance in my life. He began to open his mouth slowly but at first no words came out, but a few seconds later he said “Elizabeth Faith, how could I not remember a face like yours, one that only one like me could dream about, dancing with in the moonlight of summertime under the willow trees that hang over the bridge that led me to your beautifully quaint house that one summer day in June. I would be ashamed to say my own name if I had forgotten a face, or name as vivid as yours.” (Such a sweet man who had obviously known me, or was just trying to get somewhere quite quick with me.) Mr. Franklin, in tone of serious prologue towards him, what is this document here I see that you just so started signing with your beautifully mastered signature? “Oh please Elizabeth it’s not that great, but it’s called the Declaration of Independence. It is going to be a big part of setting American aside from Great Britain.”

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