Just a Walk

I had just finished my last final of the year, meaning I had all the free time in the world. So naturally, I did nothing. 

Well, technically I did something. I went for a walk. 

There's this pond on the outskirts of campus. The one that looks all peaceful and nature-y, but is actually 45% goose droppings. It was full of people lounging, strolling, and soaking up the golden-hour glow. 

I walked past them, half in my head, half in the moment. 

Something about the scene made me think of all the stories I grew up on. The Greek myths, comics, and books where some awkward kid gets chosen to save the world. 

I used to live vicariously through those characters. Still kind of do. But deep down, I always dreamed that fantasy world might actually be real. That I could be someone of legend, prophecy, and other cool stuff.

Then reality checks in and I'm just a kid wearing shorts and flip flops wandering too far off campus, wondering what I'm even hoping to find. 

But that belief still exists—buried deep, sure, but still there. Maybe that’s why I walked into the house.

It kind of just appeared. Half-sunk into the hill, like it had been there forever but also just showed up to mess with me personally. The door was round. The windows were foggy. The roof had actual moss growing on it, like something out of The Hobbit. 

I didn't realize I'd zoned out until I bumped into her. 

“Oh—sorry,” I said, startled. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Her headphones had fallen on the ground. I bent down to help, and our hands brushed in that weird, electric way that makes you forget your name for a second.

“That’s alright,” she said, her voice gentle.

We both hesitated. Our eyes met—long enough to mean something, not long enough to be sure of what.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

She smiled, but then turned and walked on.

I stood there, wishing I'd said something. Wishing I was someone who knew what to do with a moment like that.

And then I looked back at the house.

"Screw it," I said shaking my head.

"You'd better be worth it," I muttered walking towards the house. 

There was a path leading up to the round, weatherworn screen door. Inside, dust floated in the air like a snow globe. The walls were lined with empty shelves that looked like they’d held books a long time ago. Cobwebs sagged, like even the spiders had abandoned them. There was no furniture, no lights, no obvious reason this place should exist.

But in the back right of the room there was a glow. It was a closet. And as I stepped closer the glow grew brighter, drawing me in. 

I'm not sure how to describe it. An orb? Portal? Floating bubble of water? It felt important. Like that moment in a movie where the main character totally shouldn't touch something but they do anyways. 

“You know it's a trap, right?" my brain said. But that feeling was still there. That pull. 

So I told my brain to take the night off, let curiosity drive for a bit, and reached out.

For a few seconds, it couldn’t have been more anti-climactic. No light. No sound. Just… nothing. Like I'd just waved at someone who wasn’t waving at me.

"Well. That's embarrassing." 

Then the world turned on itself. 

I wasn't in the house anymore. I was in... well, somewhere else. A mountaintop? An ocean? Cliff? Hard to say but it was vast. It looked like someone put a sunrise filter over the whole sky.

In front of me was a figure. 

Tall. Radiant. Wearing a white linen robe that shimmered. They had the kind of presence that screamed godlike, but also gave off stern English teacher vibes. 

"Uh," I said, blinking. "Hi?" 

“You are here,” they said, with the booming gravitas of someone speaking to a coliseum of people. 

"Yeah," I said. "I gathered that."

“You seek something,” they intoned. “You believe this moment has purpose.” 

“Okay,” I nodded. “So, am I supposed to fight a monster? Solve a riddle? Discover my bloodline’s ancient secret? Because I've read the stories like a million times and, no offense, I think I’m ready.” 

The being looked at me. Smiled. Then handed me… a small wooden box. No instructions. No magical glow. Just a box. 

I opened it. Inside was a rock. It was gray, rounded, smooth, and warm to the touch. 

“That’s it?” I asked. 

“That’s it,” they said. 

I stared at them. “You were supposed to offer me some grand quest. I’m supposed to have to save the world or something. Isn’t that why I’m here?” 

Their smile widened. “Is that what you want?” 

"I mean… yeah?” I shrugged. “That’s how these things go. A moment like this—I just thought maybe it was leading to something. I don’t know... like I was supposed to do something important."

The god-like figure tilted their head. 

“Huh,” they said. “Funny. Maybe you already did.” 

And before I could ask what that meant, they turned and faded into light.

The warmth of the rock lingered in my hand. Then a rush of light, like wind inside my chest— 

And suddenly, I was back. Knees in the grass. Her hand brushing mine over a fallen headphone.

"I'm so sorry," I said quickly, still seeing spots.

"You already said that," she said with a smile. "It's alright, really. What were you looking at anyways?"

"Oh, that house over ther-" I turned around... and froze. Just grass. Wildflowers. And one large boulder, sitting where the house had been. It was rounded. Gray. Smooth. It looked like nothing special, but the rock still felt warm in my shorts pocket. 

"Has that always been there?" I asked, puzzled. 

She blinked. "Uh, maybe I should be the one asking if you're alright."

I shook my head, still looking at the impossible boulder in place of that earthen house. 

She gave me this look—half curious, half waiting for me to say something that made sense.

“Well,” she said, “You wanna walk and tell me what you mean? Or are you gonna stare at that boulder all day?”

I still don’t know what exactly happened in that house. Or why. Or if it even happened at all.

"Okay, yeah. That'd be great," I managed, trying not to sound as shocked as I felt. 

I got up, handed her the headphones, and we started walking. 

Just a quiet moment.

And somehow—
that felt like enough.