Daily Prompt:The Twilight Zone | Down the Rabbit Hole

Ever have an experience that felt surreal, as though you’d been suddenly transported into the twilight zone, where time seemed to warp, perhaps slowing down or speeding up? Tell us all about it. If you haven’t had an experience in real life that you can draw from, write a fictional account of a surreal experience.

Oddly enough, the time that this happened to me was when I arrived in London. Sitting on the plane, watching the clouds roll below us, as British countryside came into view it felt just as if I was arriving back into Virginia, that somehow our plane had taken a wrong turn over the Atlantic and it all had been a dream. 

It wasn’t until I caught my first glimpse of true London skyline, Parliament, Big Ben, Union Jacks flying in the wind, that something struck me, deep and unseen. I lost all track of where and who I was, what I was doing, and where I should be going. In that moment I had achieved my greatest dream. I had always only wanted to travel to London, to set my feet upon British soil once again. (I traveled to Northern Ireland in 2005). 

As I stood in front of Buckingham, going off of about four hours of sleep and a long-winded tour guide, I felt as if perhaps I were Alice and I had followed the White Rabbit down, down the rabbit hole into my own personal Wonderland. 

Of course, there are other, more personal times where I have felt as if the world has stopped turning and time stood still, my lungs unable to fill with air, my eyes unable to tear away from the person across from me. But that, my friends, is for another day.

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Wanderlust

I am absolutely ready to move to New York, I can feel the city thrumming in my veins, the energy flowing through me as I move through the masses of people rushing around to get where they are going.

It’s going to make me miss London like nothing else ever has. I fell in love with that city. From Buckingham to the Eye to Parliament to the Underground, my entire being often screams to go back to London.

But I know it won’t stop with London. My list of countries to visit is ever growing. I love he cultures, the people, the food, the languages. I want to go back to France, to revisit Ireland. I want to stand on the coast of Scotland, kiss the Blarney stone in Ireland, eat pasta in Italy, swim in Spain (where the rain falls mainly on the plain.) I want to breathe in the air of Germany, come home with a tan from Egypt. There are even places here in the United States I year to lay my eyes on. The Grand Canyon, Niagra Falls, the Golden Gate bridge. I refuse to die without writing ‘Viva Las Vegas’ on my car window as I make a trip to the city of sin itself.

And the above list barely begins to cover it. Sweden, Romania, Poland, Australia, New Zealand, Belgium, and back to Canada. 

I cannot begin to fathom how a person settles in a place and doesn’t leave. At least not for short trips. I’ve been taking out-of-country trips ever couple of years since I was in the ninth grade (and am currently a super, super senior in college). I get that itch that drives me up the wall and I begin to feel claustrophobic, begging to travel.

If I had the money and time I would just travel everywhere in the US I wanted via car (because hello Route 66).

Wanderlust, it’s got me wrapped around it’s finger, promising airy skies and open roads ahead.

The Door to Adventure

I’m a traveller. At least, I love travelling, but being a college student in a tiny town, that doesn’t leave much to travel on.
I’ve been to Canada, France, Ireland, and England. My list of places to visit is a much longer one.
I used to want to live in England, still do in fact. I loved London, loved the city so much that I wanted to stay and never look back.
That’s part of why I think I’m moving to New York City. Yes, yes, I’m attending the Film Academy, but it’s more than that. For so many years, twenty-three to be exact, I have live in a tiny town in Virginia, feeling like I am stuck here, never being able to move forward. But now I am.
I have the chance to recreate myself, to be the person I’ve always wanted to be. To be a different, happier, me. There are things of course that I could never change, would never want to change. I will always love Star Trek, and cry over X-Men:First Class. Pride and Prejudice will always fight with The Hobbit over being my favourite book. Benedict Cumberbatch will forever be my favourite Sherlock. I’ll always own too many books and not enough bookshelves. Those things are what I have gladly allowed to shape me, and I will never be sorry for those things.
But moving to a different city where no one may know my name? It’s freeing. There I can be an aspiring actress/writer, working on her first novel as she works her bum off to get to where she wants to be. Heck, maybe I’ll find writing to be my niche and end up doing that.
Because honestly, that’s where the travelling comes in. I can’t write about a girl who met her best friend in Spain if I’ve never been. I can’t capture the awe of the Colosseum if I’ve never been dwarfed by it.
Travelling opens up the door to adventure, and honey, I grab adventure by the horns.