Two: The Awakening

Ethan discovers that everything has indeed changed.

Ethan could feel the cool rush of wind surrounding his body and, for a moment, thought that he was back home in his bed with his large box fan blowing over him. It took a few seconds for him to open his eyes and realize that he was, in fact, falling. Not just falling, but hurtling quite quickly toward the earth. Inevitably, his body took over, led by a panicked mind, and he began to flail. It is a pretty natural reaction, but ultimately wastes a lot of time that could be better spent coming up with a plan. Before Ethan had any course of action, he crashed back-first into the plush grass that seemingly came from nowhere. He gasped as the breath was pulled from his chest, dispersed into the bright orange-yellow sky above him.

"Feyemekauit," he cursed. Well, he intended it to be a long string of profanity, but feyemekauit is the sound his body decided to make.

He waited for a moment, lying still and examining each part of his body to decide if he was dead, paralyzed, or in shock. Would he be sad if he was dead? He had never felt very much alive. Yes… he would be sad if he was dead. He was sure of it.

Next came the whirlwind of joyous emotion as he realized that he was very much still breathing. “Ayeee!!!” he exclaimed. He, extremely slowly, raised himself off of the ground, waiting to hear any unexpected pops and cracks. Instead, the only greeting was that of the creak of his knee; a sound he had been harnessing the power of over the past few years.

“Well, that was unexpected…” a soft voice said.

“Wh-what the---” Ethan shouted as he spun around. He grabbed his back and bent over as he realized that he very much should not be moving at a quick pace. “Who the hell are you?” he added as he tried to catch his breath.

“Oh, me? Yeah, my name is Miranda. I take it you are… new here?” the voice responded. 

Ethan finally looked at the source of his conversation. Before him stood a short, extremely attractive, smiling girl who appeared to be in her early twenties. His eyes inevitably glanced for a ring… and they found none. It didn't much matter anyway, as he didn't have the liquid courage to compliment her in the first place. Heck, even if he had the courage, it would just get him into trouble. 

She was dressed in clothes that reminded him of the images he had seen in history books. Her dress was a soft brown with teal trim, and extremely unflattering to her physique. She too was examining him, and he became increasingly aware that he was dressed very differently than his normal t-shirt and jeans. He was in the remnants of a suit, the only one he had ever owned, and a dress shirt that barely buttoned over his larger, albeit not terribly noticeable, stomach. 

“Did I pass out and wake up in a Renaissance fair?” Ethan asked as he straightened up and rubbed the back of his head. Miranda paid him no mind. She merely kept running her eyes over him, a disheveled look of confusion on her face.

“So if you’re here, then that means that Lady Tabitha must be dead. That sucks balls,” Miranda said, and then turned on her heels and walked off into the brush.