The Diary of Elliot Parker

.: Entry Eleven :.

My name.

My name is Elliot Parker. And I was right.

My safe place is not as safe as I thought. My favourite dream. I had it again. But it is not the same anymore. When it was the same it was comfortable, you know, like your favourite onesie when it’s cold outside. Then it started changing, I was changing so it changed because of me. The more that I change the more control I gain. The more control I exert the more I change.

Recently I noticed that my dream, this dream world, that was under my influence, is not just under my influence. Someone else can reach this place. Someone else has the ability to change this place. Someone else out there can do what I do. Being who I am never felt so hard. Especially the more my influence reaches just through energy.

Last time I was here, there was a jotter book in the trinket box, I had replied to whoever responded to my message. The last message in my writing was “Who are you?”

Sweet huh? Simple. Tucked away nice and safe with that pretty trinket box. Now, here it is in my hand, I didn’t have to look or rummage it just seemed to appear. I didn’t have to remind myself to look for it. I just thought about the jotter, and there it is, sat in the palm of my hand. Pen hooked in the spirals.

I had my reply though. It was kind of cool in a way. In a this feels incredibly violating kind of way. In a this is wrong, impossible but incredible kind of way.

“Adrian Kraig” cool. That is an… interesting name? I don’t know. The name Adrian rings through to a part of me that makes my stomach squirm, and twist, and knot. Not in a bad way though. In more of a… memory.

Looking at the next line I find myself elated. At least he doesn’t respond using text talk. Adrian actually wrote out “What about you?” Rather than the widely and incredibly irritating “wbu” which you know, gives a certain degree of credibility to the guy. Which also brings about another one of those great moments where I get to say “I was right” because the likelihood is that Adrian is a boy’s name, mostly.

Again so many questions, is Adrian a guy for sure? How old is he? How did he get here? The list, endless.

But I had his question to answer. Do I answer his question with the truth? A variation? Did he approach this with the same dilemma?

I don’t know how long I stood here, trying to decide my response. My mind wandered, could Adrian be really attractive? Would he have green eyes, dark hair and a devil may care attitude? Probably not. Most likely a 50 something guy, going bald, incredibly wise but obnoxious.

“My name is Elliot Parker.”

Perfect. Again I nail the handwriting… I am getting neater.

Suddenly all the questions I wanted to ask fade. They mean nothing, not right now.

I could be or do or say anything I want right now. I could be anyone I want. So why do I want to be me?

I want to escape. Just for a little while. And like that the jotter is pinned by the trinket box and my room dissolves as I touch the book with the green cover and get pulled into a different great adventure.

I don’t have to climb the rigging. The bird’s nest is being over taken by real crew and the ship is swaying. The crew scurrying like a surge of ants across the deck. Me? I’m forgotten. Rather carefully I slide my way down from the bird’s nest and hit the deck running. I could run away and hide. Instead, I slip into the Captain’s cabin. It’s deserted. He’s too busy barking orders at his crew but I know something he doesn’t.

That ship on the horizon, is not a ship you can run from. It is big, powerful and you can guarantee it has seen us long before we saw it. It’s a dread ship. Somehow there’s a whole span of false memories sewn into my own. A mix of fact and fiction. A world I knew before I arrived on this boat, and the life of the stow away girl. This boat will never out run a dread ship. Out fighting it could be a lot harder than the Captain anticipates. But outsmarting it? Well that has better odds.

Seemingly right on the nose, the Captain bursts into his cabin with the sway of the boat. Surprise or anger on his face is nothing compared to the idea of the dread ship on our heel.

My plan tumbles from my mouth. An excuse, explanation or avoiding death by using my wits. Seems to come like a second nature. His bushy eyebrows raised into his hairline almost comically as the words tumbled. It wasn’t long until they furrowed in thought. He was considering it… he was actually thinking about my idea. The stow away girl’s idea. He spun on his heels silently and exited the cabin. Either I am about to become a shark’s snack or skewered on a sword. I wait for the crew to burst in and pull me from the room. But they don’t. Nothing moves in the room but me trying to hold balance as I aim for the door of the cabin and pull myself outside.

The crew were slowing down the scurrying to escape ceasing. And silence falling as they gather on the main deck trying to hold balance in front of the Captain.

The swaying continues below my feet, but that doesn’t cause the lurching in my stomach as I am pulled backwards from the ship.

I slam into the wooden floor below my feet. My body stills swaying with the motion of the ocean. The churning slowly settling in my stomach.

You see, my name is Elliot Parker and I get very sea sick.

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