It was midnight. She had searched desperately. But she could not find him. He was always by her side. Her closest friend was no where to be found. She was grief stricken. What’s more, she had that sinking feeling that comes only in the despair of darkness, that she too might be lost. Lost in an unfamiliar city. Not to mention, she was distracted by an incessant buzzing tone.
Then she looked in the distance. A triangular portal high in the sky gleamed over the city. It appeared vaguely familiar. But she could not place it in her mind.
Desperate for any sign of hope, she checked her electronic map, The Talon, for directions to the edifice. Its display screen blinked once, printed the words, “Champ de Mars,” and switched off for good. She had no idea what those words meant. Nor, could she make sense of the note she had discovered in her coat pocket seemingly in her mother’s handwriting. She read it repeatedly, trying to squeeze a clue from its cryptic syllables. It said, “C ‘the lady’ – CM.” She trudged through the streets following the lighted structure as it drew nearer.
It was after 1 am when she arrived. There, she saw a familiar sight. The door to her Talon spaceship shimmered near the pillars of the landmark. Somehow, she knew she had only seconds to enter the doorway before it closed. Its light guided her. She quickly stepped through. Then, suddenly Emily was awake in her bedroom, her alarm buzzing incessantly. And, it was late morning.
Emily remembered. Her last image before drifting off to sleep, was of her favorite poster on her bedroom wall. It was that of the time-travel game, Final Fantasy III: Legend. Talon is the time machine spaceship in that game. She had framed the poster with her mother’s souvenir photos of the Eiffel Tower. At the bottom edge of one of those photos, in her mother’s handwriting, was scribbled, “The Iron Lady, Champ de Mars.” Relieved that it was all a dream, Emily sprang up to greet Gustave, her French poodle. Her closest friend, was safe and sound at the foot of her bed.
Written for Sadje’s What Do You See 69