You know that feeling when you get the flu? When you are completely and utterly defeated by it? When you don’t have the energy to stand up straight? Because that is what I like that first day. Making my way across campus to the dorm, I just hoped that I wouldn’t collapse in the snow. My senses swirling around me, I eventually made it to my room, and plopped headfirst into my pillow.
And that sleep was Nirvana. A pleasant squeeze simultaneously wrapped every inch of me, as I succumbed to the warmth of my mattress. I opened my eyes in what seemed to be just a moment later, and realized much more time had passed. The sky was now dark, the moon glowing bright, and my legs felt like jelly. Trying to stand up straight took some effort, by my mind told me that I was completely relaxed.
I hobbled my way over to the bathroom, and looked in the mirror. I was still the same Ben I had been when I fell asleep. I touched my chin, and could feel the stubble starting to sprout. I took a good look to make sure that nothing was wrong. There was no pain when I changed my facial expressions.
I won’t bore you with listing the rest of my wake up routine. Needless to say it involved the toilet, getting some snacks and drinks from the fridge and texting my classmates, begging them to let me borrow their notes from my missed classes.
After replenishing my energy, I sat down at my desk, and contemplated what happened that day. Why did I wear that tiara? Sure I was curious, but it was a compulsion to try it on after touching it. That’s not something anyone does in public. NO ONE looks sane in a tiara. Not even princesses and pageant winners.
I opened my bag and looked at it again. There were no strange markings on it. No ‘made in China’ notice, no ancient ruins, no symbol. It was a silvery gold colour, if that makes sense. It almost seemed to change metals depending on how I was holding it. Maybe it was worth something. I spent the next hour hoping that I had obtained a rare artifact that I could sell to pay for my tuition. The results were non-existent. I couldn’t find anything online that remotely resembled what I had. And on top of everything, I was now wide awake.
Restless, and my mind too full of questions to focus on my essays, I put the tiara under my bed and went for a nighttime walk.
In the moonlit snow, I made my way across the fields to the bar just on the other side of campus. My roommate Brian would be drinking there. He owed me a beer, and I intended to collect. Brian was in his usual spirits, chatting with his friends, as they bragged about their many conquests. He was more than eager to pay back my beer. We chatted, and everything was fine.
It was only when Fred, started talking that I became glad I made it there. Fred started describing this beautiful girl that he thought was a nutjob. She was over six feet tall, very well built, and looked like a Swedish supermodel. She had long flowing hair, and was standing over an unconscious body. She was scantily dressed, but wore a tiara. When Fred asked if she needed help, she just laughed and said that Justice was done, and then flew away.
“Like a Superhero? Like Wonder Woman? Were you on drugs?” the guys asked him. “Yes, yes, no.” Fred answered. From then on, the questions started getting cruder. “Did you fuck her? What were her breasts like? Was she naked?” etc. From then on, the night became less and less memorable and everyone’s blood alcohol levels increased.
Once the discussion moved to other things, I pulled Fred aside. “Fred, this woman, she her tiara didn’t happen to be silver did it?” I asked.
“Silver, but sometimes when she turned her head, it looked like gold.” he answered.
My mind started racing, and walking back through the snow alone, I started making the connections. This woman must have lost her tiara and would probably be looking for it. As the wind howled, I felt a pressure from a metal’s edge in my winter coat pocket. Placing my glove inside, I pulled out the tiara. It was the strangest thing, I am absolutely sure that I didn’t take it to the bar with me. This time I actually fought the urge to wear it.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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