So I've decided to share a piece that I recently wrote for my Creative Writing Class with you. The assignment was to describe a chance meeting with any historical figure of your choice. I hope you enjoy it!
“Woops!” I slipped and fell on what felt like stone. Travel like this, with no idea exactly where a person would end up, only when and what continent, could get confusing and, for me, dizzying. Sitting up slowly to take in my surroundings, I saw that I sat in the middle of an elaborate garden, with dozens of different kinds of flowers and plants forming intricate patterns all around me. With its bushes pruned and guided into shapes of animals and various structures, I surmised that I must have landed either in England or the Netherlands. After all, who else in Europe spent this much time in the dirt merely for enjoyment in 1558? At least my simple green dress would pass for any servant’s in these parts. Dressing presented another difficulty in this hasty time travel – one’s country definitely impacted dressing to blend in, so I usually chose something simple that didn’t stand out.
Now that I felt much less disoriented, the time had come to explore. I had exactly twenty-four hours to enjoy this trip, and I meant to use every second for discovery. Standing up, I realized for the first time that, not far off stood an enormously familiar-looking countryside palace, complete with about a million windows, sandstone and white brickwork, and dozens of elaborate archways.
“Wow,” I breathed. This place was pretty unbelievable. I couldn’t wait to look around inside. Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, I stood slowly and began to make my way around the back of this enormous palace, searching for a servant’s door or even the stables so that I could venture inside without being noticed. ‘Ah, here we go,’ I thought, pleased to have found the servant’s passage into what looked like the kitchens. Could I eat here, too? Sampling some fine British cuisine from the sixteenth century would surely prove itself educational (and delicious).
‘Look at all these people!’ I thought in disbelief. So many of them, all occupied in their work; here a girl mopped the stone tiles, there a cook chopped onions for the midday meal, here a laundress carried a huge basket of linens outside to dry, and there a boy hurried about carrying messages. The place bustled with activity, so I didn’t worry so much about being discovered. What was one more person among the throng? However, I felt almost certain that if I stood around gaping at the activity around me for much longer, someone would probably notice. Moving as if I had some idea where I meant to go, I slipped away down a nearby corridor, and my adventures officially began.
Passing hall after hall, room after room, I glimpsed vast galleries of probably priceless original paintings, brilliantly colored tapestries covering the walls, and so many pieces of furniture with at least some part covered in gold filigree. Then I came to the part of the palace that appeared to hold the bedchambers and suites for guests, which seemed no less elaborate or sophisticated. There, at the end of this particular hall with its twelve foot double doors open, was a room like none other. ‘Room’ seemed almost to dishonor it. As I walked towards it, I saw that this space would probably have fit half of my house easily, with high, spacious ceilings and wide, bright windows looking out onto the marvelous gardens. Stepping slowly forward, I crept even further inside and shut the doors behind me, for fear of discovery in a place that was obviously not intended for the enjoyment servants.
“You, girl! What business do you have in my private chambers? Speak up now.” A voice said imperiously.
“Uh-oh,” I said to myself as I spun around to find the owner of the voice. It came from a tall, slight figure of a woman standing in one of the corners of the room, framed by the window’s light. She had an incredibly intelligent, open face, even if she did look a bit haughty at the moment. After all, I was only a servant to her; this young woman had ‘nobility’ written all over her face, and must be several years my senior. Long, curly red hair flowed down her back and framed her too-pale face, although the rest of her skin looked olive-toned. Her brow rose, waiting for a more coherent answer to her query. I fidgeted, unprepared with an alibi as to my reason for exploring a noblewoman’s bedroom.
“Um, sorry, your . . . ladyship,” I finished lamely.
“Ladyship?” She scoffed, “I am Elizabeth, Crown Princess of England and the surrounding Isles and heir to Her Royal Majesty, my gracious sister’s throne.”
“Oh. Sorry, Your Highness,” I said, curtsying as best I could and wobbling uncontrollably.
“But you have not answered my question, girl. What is your business here?”
“Oh, that again,” I thought quickly, “The . . . chef wanted you to know that you’ll be having soup for the midday meal. He hopes that’s alright . . . ?”
“Since when am I in charge of meals in my own palace?” She seemed offended. I didn’t want to offend the future queen. Deciding that my best course of action was distraction, I chose the most random thing that came to mind – an impromptu interview. In my best Ryan Seacrest impression, I blurted,
“Princess Elizabeth, what age are you and how does it feel to know that you’ll one day become queen of all England?”
“I am twenty and five years of age. Again, I will inquire as to your business asking impertinent questions of royalty.”
I thought that the time for pretending to be a servant had passed.
“Your Highness, I know I look like a servant, but in reality I am something entirely different sent from the future to find out all about you. I have a limited amount of time to question you, so if you would cooperate, I would be honored.”
“Are you a spy, then, sent from my enemies to bring about my downfall?” She asked quietly, then said, almost to herself, “You are rather small and unassuming to be a spy, however.”
“No, not a spy, certainly not, Your Highness. I’m merely a curious young girl willing to learn from you.” She still looked suspicious, and she had a right to it. Plenty of spies had surely passed through this place looking for evidence of wrongdoings to incriminate this young woman.
“Alright,” I said, wiling to convince her, “Look, here’s something that you won’t find anywhere in 1558.” I pulled out my cell phone, one of the only things I had been allowed on this particular time travel adventure. After all, I only needed to change her opinion of me now so that she wouldn’t call the guards and have me beheaded. By morning, she would have no memory of me whatsoever. The princess looked surprised and not a little bit curious.
“What is it?”
“It’s a Samsung Seek; I have it in pink and my mom has one that’s red, but mine is way better because it has flower designs on the front and back. And look, its touch screen and everything!” I stopped, realizing she was absolutely and completely lost.
“Oh. Sorry. I mean, it’s a device from the future. Look, it turns on and off – although that’ll cost you battery so don’t do it too many times. It’s called a cellular telephone, and it can call people from far away so that you can talk to them. You can also send messages with it, especially if you have an accomplished texter like me on hand.” I smiled, proud of my status, but she still seemed not to be paying much attention to what I was saying.
“Here, would you like to play around with it? It plays music, too.” She took it, turning it over and over, sliding it open and closed and pressing the screen with her long, delicate fingers.
“Now do you believe me?” I asked patiently. She looked up, staring deep into my eyes as if she were trying to x-ray my soul.
“Yes.” She responded.
“Okay, then please may I ask you some questions?”
“You may, but first I must know your name and rank of birth.” This came as a surprise, but I supposed she deserved an honest answer.
“My name is Sophia Josephine Conley, but you can call me Sophie if you like. In my time, there isn’t much call for ‘rank of birth.’ I’m not really anyone special, but I’m not a servant either. My father works as a pastor in a church, if that helps. Does that satisfy Your Highness?”
“I suppose so. You may begin your questioning, Sophia.” She said, like the queen she would become in just a few short months.
“Let’s start with your favorite color.”
“How is that of importance?” She asked commandingly.
“I’m not sure that it is, but it’s somewhere to start, right?” She thought about it for a moment, then nodded slowly.
“Indeed. My answer is scarlet.”
“Cool.” I said, smiling at her tentatively.
“Is the temperature significant?”
“Um, no,” I said, hiding a smile, “It’s just an expression.”
“Well, we’d best keep going if we do not have much time. Next question, Sophia?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” I agreed, settling in for what would probably be a long but entertaining and instructional rest of the day.
