I’ve never told anyone this, but when I was a little kid, I had a top-secret superpower: teleportation. I could close my eyes and just be somewhere else in a flash. I’d count down from three, open my eyes and be at the Sherlock Holmes Museum in London, asleep in a centuries-old bed at The Met in Manhattan like Jamie and Claudia Kincaid, or snorkeling off the coast of some exotic Caribbean island. Unfortunately, once I turned 12, I had to relinquish my powers, someone needed them more than I did, but sometimes I wish I could use them once more.
If I could, right now I’d close my eyes briefly, opening them to see a dark blue sky, streaked with gold, the sun in the east, peeking above the horizon, a lonely stretch of sand, me and a calm, endless ocean. And then I’d hear a noise, something running toward me, piercing the silence, galloping, louder and louder until my ear drums are pounding to its rhythm. I’d be fearful at first, then turn to see a family of horses, some black, others white spotted with brown, unusually long tails blowing in the ocean breeze as they run. They’d blow past me as I’d watch in wonder, envying their freedom and wildness, reveling in the other-worldliness of it all. I’d throw my satchel over my shoulder, dig my bare feet in the sand and head towards the sand dunes lining the edge of the beach. I’d climb to the top of the tallest one, my feet sliding as I go, turning around and taking in one last glance at the lonely beach before heading further inland. After a long walk, I’d stumble across the ruins of a once-grand castle, Dungeness. The wind would start to blow, whipping the leaves of the palm trees surrounding me, sending a cold shiver down my spine. Standing against the wrought iron gate encircling the mansion, I’d imagine the grand parties, the romance, the people that lived there many years ago. As I walked away, I’d see the house in all its glory, the story of the families that lived there, the intrigue that led to its destruction beginning to form in the my mind. Reaching the ocean once more, I’d lie down in the sand, pull my journal from my bag, and start to write.
Now, life is a little sweeter, though not without problems, I don’t wish for a magical escape from my life any longer, but my fascination with adventure and travel remain, as well as my imagination. Closing my eyes again. 3-2-1.