The World Behind The Mirror
By Sophie Thompson, age 10
“Naughty Fred!” cried my toddling brother, Charlie. That's what my mother first taught him to say. Charlie, for the first time noticing me, waddled over and greeted me with what my mummy usually said: “stop reading, Kate, and get into bed!” I grinned, as the speech was normally uttered in an angry voice. But hearing it joyfully lisped out of a 3 and a half year old’s mouth was naturally amusing.
“I want to sees the pwecious miwwor.” mumbled my brother, quoting my older sister, Gertrude’s, sarcastic retorts to my mummy’s complaining about smudges on her mirror, and asking Gertrude to go out of the room.
I picked him up, while he grasped a squirming Fred in his tiny arms. We stared at our reflections, enjoying seeing each other in the small mirror. Gertrude came, spoiling our enjoyment of the mirror by saying that if we were so self-obsessed as to stare at ourselves joyously, then why not give her some room? I shifted over, and she leant forward to touch up her makeup.
Suddenly, the image on the mirror changed, it fogged up, then revealed a room with a pedestal on which a book sat. The title read: Relive History: The One of a Kind Time Travel Book. We leaned closer as the page flicked to Romans on Hadrian’s Wall, Picts invading. Then, I felt as though I was being sucked into the mirror. There we were, a toddler, a 10 year old, and a 16 year old, getting sucked into an antique mirror. The glass widened into a gateway, and we were pushed through, the gates slamming shut behind us.
“Where on Earth are we!” Gertrude indignantly screeched. We were standing in a bustling marketplace, drunk men in chainmail and carrying swords trying to get women clad in long tunics to sit at their table in what I assumed was the pub.
“And what on Earth are we wearing!” Gertrude shouted even louder. I looked down at my clothes. Gone were the jeans and T-shirt, they had been replaced with one of the long tunics and a strange necklace with a large metal bead in the middle. Gertrude was clad simarially. Charlie wore a smaller tunic, and a smaller necklace.
“The pwecious miwwor is gone!” Screeched Charlie. He looked distressed, and was looking around him. A voice broke through all the chatter of the market. A regal looking man, with a plumed helmet came over.
“You, young men!” he shouted to us. He must think we’re all boys. I thought, staring at Gertrude’s and my short hair. “We need all the soldiers we can get, why don’t you come with me and we’ll get you in some armour.” He continued, then pulled us toward a large stone fortress. “And you lot of auxiliaries, stop hanging around the pub, it’s your latrine duty!” The men at the pub stood up, grumbling, then followed the man.
We marched through the street, getting closer to the fortress. Once inside, it revealed a series of rooms, all labelled in Latin that I somehow understood. There was also an outdoor area labelled “Lorem Area” He pushed Gertrude and I toward a room labelled “Armatura Room” He found us two sets of chainmail, an archers bow and quiver, with the name Diana engraved on the bow, a sword, and two daggers. We took off the togas and donned the chainmail. I slung the bow and quiver across my back and slipped the dagger into my belt. Gertrude slid her sword into the sheath and hid the dagger among the chainmail. We heard an anxious voice scream that the barbarians were coming and all men must take arms immediately!
The man waved for me to climb the tall, steep stairs to the top of the tower, then directed Gertrude to follow him.
I raced up the stairs, taking the bow off of my back. When I reached the top, I saw large men, their faces painted with blue patterns.
Fitting an arrow to the string, I pulled back the bow, then let go. The arrow soared, then hit a particularly large man in the chest. He fell down. I fitted another arrow, this time taking out a bird that got in the way of my shot. Other archers arrived, and together we took down half of the men.
An archer who had been talking to another man in Arabic, looked at me and his face, which had been slightly strained from the effort of firing volleys of arrows at the enemy, crumpled up in confusion. He asked me in a stuttering latin if I was new. I told him that I was, but I was surprised at finding that I had spoken fluent Arabic. His face softened at hearing me answer in Arabic, then proceeded to shoot another person.
Underneath us, other soldiers attacked with their swords. I could see Gertrude whirling around, cutting people's arms off and things like that. Her cyclone of black hair twisted around, getting in her face.
When I bent down to tie my shoe, which had gone from purple trainers to boots, I noticed lots of little bronze coins, with the faces of Roman emperors. I picked up 22, then thought better of it and replaced 5.
When I looked behind me, I saw the village in a riot, getting saucepans and such. Among the crowds of confused children, I saw Charlie waving a stick. I grabbed a fallen arrow from someone else's quiver, then I grabbed the bit of paper and a pencil from my pocket, which had turned into a quill and parchment. I drew a picture of the tower, then a stick figure waving. I circled the stick figure, then, after the ink dried, tied it to the arrow with my hair tie. I aimed for an apple from a fruit stand next to where he was standing, then fired. The arrow hit the apple directly in the middle.
Charlie reached out for the arrow, picking up a fallen coin and placing it on the fruit sellers desk-thing. He grabbed the arrow, then unfurled the note. He looked up the tower and saw me waving, like in the picture. He waved back.
With the last pull of a bowstring and slash of a sword, the tall men had either retreated or were dead. The archers, apparently pleased with what they had done, trooped downstairs. I followed them, hoping that I didn’t trip and fall on all of the quivers in front of me.
The man with the plumed helmet found Gertrude, her makeup smeared from sweat, and I as we finally found each other in the mass of men in chainmail.
“Well done, new auxiliaries!” he bellowed. We thanked him meekly in Latin. He continued bellowing “And you get to spend the rest of the evening in the town. I saw you had a small brother, go see him!” We marched through the gateway, looking for Charlie.
“Kate! Gertwude!” we heard our “small brother” lisp. I looked around, located him and picked him up. “Gertwude” came and pet him on the head.
We marched toward the blacksmith’s shop. The blacksmith was in a pit, hammering a rod on an anvil. He looked up as we passed, then, noticing we were roman soldiers, beckoned to us. Once we were inside he growled
“I see the barbarians tried to attack, you were the small archer with the message arrow?” He looked questionly at me.
“Yes, our brother didn’t know where we were, we were whisked off by the centurion.” I answered, again surprised that I was speaking Latin.
“And you,” he looked at Gertrude now “you were the swordsman, whirling about as though you were dancing?”
“How do you know what we did? You could see Kate, but not me.” Gertrude asked him, her voice interrogative.
“I could see, I stood at the top of my shop and threw chunks of metal.” He replied. His voice took on the air of a mischievous child who had done something naughty. Then he grinned. “You could not see me though, which is why you think I did not see you.” He explained.
“And, yes, I was the dancing swordsman.” Gertrude answered with a small smile.
“I’m hungry.” moaned Charlie. This was Gertrude’s contribution to his vocabulary. “I want to go to the fwuity place, the one where you shot the pointy stick at the apple.” Charlie achieved his longest sentence.
“Well done, auxiliary!” I congratulated him. Gertrude smirked.
“Yes, let's go to the “fruity place”.” She agreed. We bid goodbye to the blacksmith, and went toward the fruit seller. Then, Gertrude remembered that we didn’t have any money. When she voiced this, both Charlie and I reached into their pockets. I had my 17 little bronze coins. Charlie had 4 of the same sort.
“Where did you get those?” shrieked Gertrude.
“On the archer’s tower.” I answered. Charlie said that he found them on the ground.
“Well then, I suppose we need to spend them on something, why not fruit?” Gertrude laughed. We continued trooping. When we got there, the woman inside recognised Charlie, and asked what fruit did we want.
“What is the price for a fig, a small pomegranate, and an apple?” I asked, listing Gertrude, Charlie, and my favourite fruits.
“14 bronze coins.” She answered. I handed her the money. She tried to guess who wanted each fruit. She guessed correctly, placing the fig in Charlie’s hand, the pomegranate in mine, and the apple in Gertrude’s. We thanked her and began to eat the fruit.
Charlie and I shared the pomegranate and discarded the skin. Gertrude devoured the apple, and Charlie slowly munched his fig. While we were walking, we passed a shop, selling odd little trinkets. But among them was our mother’s mirror!
As we approached, the mirror fogged up again, this time reading Home. We were sucked in and pushed into the living room. Fred lay snoring on the carpet.
“That awful chainmail is gone!” remarked Gertrude happily.
I looked down at my clothing. I had on my jeans and T-shirt, with a wooden dagger in my belt, a couple of small coins in my pocket, and a toy bow with those arrows without a tip in the quiver. Gertrude had a plastic sword, a purple top and pink skirt, and a wooden dagger stuck in her waistband. Charlie had 4 small gold coins in one hand and a half-eaten fig in the other. We rushed upstairs to consume or hide the things.
We ended the day with a cup of tea and some biscuits, watching TV with Fred on the sofa.
Finis/The End
Book 2: Vikings
It was foggy. All day it had looked like it was going to rain, but it never did. I thought about my adventures last summer with my sister Gertrude and my now history-obsessed brother Charlie. We had bravely faced the Picts, met a roman blacksmith, and brought things home to prove it. However, the days of battle are over, and I have to sit at my desk, reading a book.
“Kate, you’ve got to see this!” called Gertrude from her room. I stood up and lumbered over to her room. She was staring at her plastic sword from last summer. Only, it wasn’t plastic anymore. It had been restored to the keenly sharp, steel blade of when we were at Hadrian’s Wall.
“What!” I muttered, then I ran to my room. My quiver was full of pointy arrows, and my dagger had become sharp. I then ran to Charlie’s room, but he now shared it with my baby sister Mary.
“Charlie! Charlie! The weapons have been restored, come on! Come on!” I shouted. I realised that we couldn’t leave Mary by herself, so I got my backpack and put her in it. She cooed happily, showing me her small, toothless gums.
As fast as I could without disturbing baby Mary, I ran back to my room and got my dagger and my quiver and bow, then rushed to Gertrude’s room. She was putting the sword into its sheath and tucking the dagger into her belt.
“Ready to go?” I asked.
“Yep.” she answered, filling her pocket with some pounds and pennies. “The mirror might turn it into the right currency.” she explained. I checked my quiver for the coins I hid in there. The coins were still there.
We ran to the sitting room and saw the mirror fog up. The book page said Vikings on the Boat to England. The mirror sucked us in, and we were left standing on a boat.
“Where on Earth are we? And what on Earth am I wearing?” Gertrude imitated herself from the last trip. Gertrude, Mary and I wore smocks. Charlie wore a tunic with trousers.
“Hello there!” called a man. He looked just like the centurion from last year, only he wore a pale green tunic with red trousers and a black cloak. “We’ve got a young boy on the boat, I see. Well, where is your family?” he asked. I lied and said that my father had died in a battle and that my mother had fallen overboard.
“That sounds rough! And where do you sleep?” Somehow I answered that I slept at the bottom of the boat, with a circular living area of about 5 ft in length. He nodded, then asked what we had come up for.
“Just, a bit of fresh air. The baby was crying, we thought she would stop if we went up here.” I hastily explained.
“Well, you might as well stay up here. We’ll be at land soon.” He said excitedly. I could make out a hazy shape. Then I recognised it as England.
“Well, we ought to go get our, um, armour?” muttered Gertrude.
“Of course, of course.” agreed the man. We trooped a ladder and found a pile of breastplates, tunics, smocks, open-sided dresses, axes, daggers and swords. We scooped up spare tunics and stuffed them into my backpack, which now turned into a leather sack. Suddenly, the ship ran aground.
“WE ARE HERE! WE ARE HERE!” screamed a girl standing next to us. She had long blond hair, storm-blue eyes, and a smock. She was about my age and was staring at us. We must have looked strange, with a teenager carrying two weapons, an 11 year old carrying a 7 month old in a bag, and a 4 and a half year old jumping up and down and pointing at men walking around.
“What are your names? I’m Johanna.” She asked.
“I’m Kate, this is Getrude and Charlie.” I replied.
“Your names are different from the ones at home. Well, old home. I live here now.” She commented. On her back she had a leather bag strapped on. It was slightly lumpy. An axe was tied onto it.
“This is my axe, I made the carvings.” The carvings were beautiful, all intricate and in shades of blue, red, and green. One was a ship sailing on an ocean.
Johanna led us off the boat, following the crew quietly, checking if anyone saw her.
“I’m a stowaway, no one knows that I’m here.” She explained jerkily. I wondered why she was alone.
“ATTACK!” screamed the Viking Leader. There was a huge cathedral, filled with monks desperately closing the doors, but they were too late. We got pushed through the huge doors to witness a massacre. All of the vikings, men and women, were hacking at monks and breaking and stealing valuables.
“Help! Help!” screamed a boy. He must have been about 12 or 13, carrying a bag. He must be using the cathedral for safety or sanctuary I thought. He was stuck under a broken stand being eaten up by flames. Gertrude, Johanna and I ran to lift it off of him. I had given Mary to Charlie so that she would stay safe.
My hands were burning as we lifted the stand off him. He scrambled up and thanked us. We smiled at him.
“Let’s leave this place.” shouted Johanna. We ran to Charlie and I put baby Mary back in my arms. We ran out, choking from the smoke, me Gertrude and Charlie holding hands. On the way out, I saw our mother’s mirror! I grabbed it and ran out.
We emerged from the smoking building coughing, but alive.
“You-cough-saved me.” choked out the boy. “All of the-cough-others wouldn’t-cough-have. My name is Walter by the way.”
“What’s that?” Johanna pointed at the mirror.
“It’s-it’s the reason we are here. We’re not vikings, we’re just English people, from the future.” Johanna and Walter looked shocked, then Johanna said
“Can I come with you?” She looked hopeful. “I mean, I don’t belong here or in Denmark so I might belong in the future, with you.” she explained.
“Would it do much harm to take her?” I asked Gertrude.
“Could I come too?” asked Walter.
“I think it would be all right, I suppose.” Gertrude said uncertainly. I propped the mirror on a stone. The mirror fogged up, then said Home. We were pulled in and reappeared in our living room.
“Kate! Who are they?!” my mother barged in.
“Your mirror is magic, we can use it to time travel and we just brought some friends with us.” I confessed in one breath. When I was saying that, the mirror fogged up, but instead of displaying a location, it started to crumble. Words popped up and they said
What belongs in the past should stay in the past.
Then the rest collapsed into a piece of paper. The paper had a picture of all of us waving as stick figures, atop horses, watching as men wearing red coats and carrying muskets.
We should not have done that.
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