Whoooosh. My head is spinning and I know it’s happened again. I’ve been warped to another period of time. I swallow hard and wait to open my eyes until the faintness has subsided. I blink, and then again. I’m hovering above a sea of people clamoring angrily, rage collectively shaping their faces. Why am I above them? I try to move an arm, I can’t. I try to move my legs. Nope. I glance down and notice that I am tied by my arms and legs to a wooden stake, and I can feel heat starting to uncomfortably caress the bottoms of my bare feet.

I woke up to the sound of horse hooves clattering on cobblestones. Disoriented, I blinked my eyes open to find myself in a quaint medieval village straight out of an old novel. Panic surged through me as I realized I wasn't in my own time anymore.

Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself to stay calm. I needed to figure out how to get back to the modern day, but first, I had to blend in. I observed the people around me, noting their attire, mannerisms, and the way they spoke.

The clothing was vastly different from what I was used to—layers of fabric, corsets, and intricate designs. Men wore breeches, doublets, and cloaks, while women donned long dresses with voluminous skirts. Everyone spoke in a formal manner, using words and phrases that were unfamiliar to me.

I decided to start by finding a place to stay. Walking through the village, I noticed an inn with a wooden sign swinging in the breeze. Inside, the atmosphere was cozy, with a fireplace crackling in the corner and patrons chatting over tankards of ale.

Approaching the innkeeper cautiously, I asked for a room in as polite a manner as I could muster. He raised an eyebrow at my strange accent but accepted my coins nonetheless. I made a mental note to practice speaking in the local dialect to avoid suspicion.

As days turned into weeks, I immersed myself in this unfamiliar world. I learned to ride horses, sew my own garments in the style of the era, and even picked up on the local customs and etiquette. I kept a low profile, avoiding drawing too much attention to myself.

But deep down, I was constantly searching for a way back home. I scoured old books in the village library, looking for any mention of time travel or portals between worlds. I experimented with various theories, hoping that something would work.

One evening, while stargazing in a meadow outside the village, I stumbled upon a strange rock formation. Intrigued, I approached it cautiously and discovered a glowing portal hidden among the stones. My heart raced with excitement and fear—could this be my ticket back to the modern day?

Without hesitation, I stepped through the portal, bracing myself for whatever lay on the other side. As the world around me twisted and shimmered, I closed my eyes, hoping to open them to familiar surroundings.

When I dared to look again, I found myself back in my own time, lying on the grass in a park. Relief flooded through me as I realized I had made it home. But the memories of my time in the old novel world lingered, a reminder of the incredible journey I had experienced.

Once upon a time, I found myself abruptly waking up in the pages of an old novel. As I blinked my eyes open, I realized that I had somehow been transported back in time. Panic and confusion gripped me, but I quickly reminded myself to remain inconspicuous and not draw any attention.

I looked around and noticed that I was in a quaint little village, with cobblestone streets and houses made of timber. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked bread and the sound of horses trotting by. It was a completely different world from the modern day I was accustomed to.

As I pondered how to return to my own time, I decided that I needed to understand the rules of this era. I observed the locals, listened to their conversations, and tried to blend in as best as I could. I adopted their mannerisms and spoke in the same language, ensuring that I didn't raise any suspicions.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. I started to make connections with the villagers, learning about their lives and becoming a part of their community. I found work as a humble apprentice in a blacksmith's shop, where I learned the art of forging metal. It was a far cry from my modern-day profession, but I embraced the opportunity to immerse myself in this new world.

While I continued to adapt to my surroundings, I never lost sight of my ultimate goal: finding a way back to the present. I scoured old libraries, seeking any clues or references that could guide me. I consulted with wise old sages and explored ancient ruins, hoping to stumble upon something that could unravel the mystery of my predicament.

As time went on, I realized that my journey wasn't just about finding a way back home. It was about appreciating the beauty of this bygone era, the simplicity of life, and the genuine connections I had forged with the people around me. I learned valuable lessons about resilience, adaptability, and the power of human connection.

I feel a strange, tightening sensation around my torso. The constriction is almost suffocating. Before I look down to see what it is that’s restricting my breathing, I take in the colossal, ornate room that I’ve found myself in. The extravagant, brass chandelier, with burning candles in each groove, hovers above me and the tall, intimidating fireplace growls with a fire. The long table that stretches across the room makes me feel tiny. “Emma.” A voice pierces my reverie and I’m reminded of my confined chest. “Emma, you will address your father with dignity and respect. Your impish behaviour is uncouth and must end now.” I look to the woman beside me, her eyes flaring with anger and indignation, and my skin prickles with cold and, weirdly, damp. “Wha- excuse me?” Despite my confusion, I managed to stealthily correct my manners. This woman, with a stone-set mouth, brows firmly narrowed and a stare that would kill the fire cold, was clearly not a woman to vex. With another flash of stealthiness, I lowered my head in shame, and gazed down to finally see what was constricting me so. A bodice of some sort. What the-? The first voice - a man, I now realise with a bit more clarity in my mind - spoke up. “Edward will be visiting for supper in two days time. If you were listening the first time instead of daydreaming and being away with the fairies, you would’ve heard me that he is to ask your hand in marriage.” “You are to agree, Emma. No more fanciful trickery or intimidating mockery of the eligible men that proclaim to be your husband.” The woman scornfully added. I gaped. What?! Where the fuck am I? Have I time-travelled? Am I dreaming? I’m dreaming; it’s just a nightmare. It feels so real though. It’s getting harder to breathe and I’m already breathless wearing this forsaken garment. But I reign in my panic quickly. Clearly these two unhinged people are oblivious to my abrupt and unfathomable arrival in this demented era. And who was Emma? Their daughter, perhaps? I feel sorry for her, if she is. A scornful mother whose frown would scare off a pack of wolves and a father who is willing to marry her off to just anyone? Nah, mate.

I’ve got to back home. My era. I sit taller, rivalling the mother’s ruler-straight back. Honestly, if you placed her up against the wall, there’d be no gap between the two. 
I timidly cleared my throat. This is where all my acting skills I’ve developed through the classes will shine through. “Yes, father.” My voice barely a squeak.
“Father?” The mother’s brows deepened, almost hanging over her eyes.
“Papa.” I reflected.
The mother growled, narrowing her eyes to barely slits. “You’re acting rather strangely, today, Emma. More so than usual, and that’s saying something. All the time you spend in the woods is clearly filling your head with nonsense and odd behaviour.”
The silence that followed the berating and belittling was louder than the pulse thrumming in my temples.
“You are to go to your room this instant. You shall not have supper this evening.” She said and then added. “And you are to continue with your needlework until the staff have retreated for the night. You may take an extra candelabra in order to see.”

What. The. Fuck? There’s no need to act now, I’m scared as shit.

Not knowing which way to exit this oppressive room, I stood slowly, trying to use my peripheral vision to spot which door is the main one. My hands firmly on the cold wooden table, hoping it would hide the tremors, I look at each of them and with the words lodged in my throat I managed an apology.
Ah, big mistake. Their eyebrows rose higher than my voice. It appears Emma is not so versed in apologising to her parents. So without another word, I took a chance and bolted for the double doors to my right. The bodice - the corset or whatever it is - seemed to sag a little, for I could breathe a little easier after escaping that madness. 
The empty foyer made for a winning ticket to leave this place. I cringed as my loud and heavy footsteps bounced off the walls and the high ceiling as I approached the main doors to this prison of this house. I stopped short though because this blasted corset needs to come off and it needs to come off now - I can’t stand it any longer. I claw at the front, at the back, on the sides and nothing helps with loosening or untying the straps.
“Emma! What in the blazin’ ‘ells are yer doing?”
My heavy skirts swirled and curled around my legs as I spun to see where the voice was coming from. A rotund woman in a maids or servants outfit gawked at me waiting for an answer. I stuttered as I reached for a lie.
“I… I have an itch that I can’t quite reach. I was hoping to remove it so I can get to it easily.”

She strides towards me, cheeks wobbling like jelly as she shakes her head vigorously. “You’ll have yer ears off if yer mother catches you behavin’ like that! That’s no way for a lady to act, Emma, darlin’.” She adds a tut for extra emphasis whilst loosening the straps on my back, her fingers working like chubby spider legs weaving a complicated web. “Nah, then.” The woman steps back as if to see me more clearly. “I’ve been told you ain’t to have any supper, and that you must be in yer room for the rest of the night.” She narrowed her eyes at me and finished with accusation, “so why did you look like you were not only itching to get that itch off yer back, but itching to leave this house at this hour?”

Shit. Looks like I’m staying here for a while.

When I woke up with a strange headache, confusion took over. I found myself in a small, unfamiliar house. Outside, there was a lot of noise. Gathering strength, I ventured out, trying to make sense of the situation. Everything seemed different, like tales from old stories and movies, yet uniquely distinct.

Despite their apparent poverty, the people greeted me with sincere smiles, as if I were a cherished friend. Overwhelmed, I stood up and found myself surrounded by several people. They asked me sad questions, like, "Brother, are you okay? You've been standing here motionless." Another said, "Brother, if you're sick, go and get treatment. If your sickness cannot be cured, let us ask Allah to make you better. Allah is very merciful." Another offered, "Brother, if you don't have a place to stay, come to me and be my guest until you treat yourself." Still impressed by their behavior, I told a little lie to get rid of them, not wanting to hurt them with my behavior.

After some exploration, I realized I was in the Okaaz Bazaar in Mecca, a bustling place where I noticed something unusual – no one begged for money in the streets.

Later, I joined a gathering where someone spoke about exceptional individuals whose hearts resembled birds. He said, "This means that they put their trust in Allah and work and strive and leave the rest with Allah. Just like birds, they leave their nests hungry in the morning and return full in the evening! They know that they don't eat anyone's money and no one eats their money! It means that their hearts are like birds' hearts, full of kindness, compassionate towards people, concerned about others, and people's happiness is their happiness. These people are careful with their language and do not hurt anyone's heart. Even if they say something inappropriate, they do not mean it. They are like rain. When it rains, they are full of goodness. They are like flowers. When people leave, their place is still visible in the heart. Someone who needs help will not be comfortable unless he helps them. They are the ones whom God does not give that kind of heart to everyone."

I was drowned in those words when the sky was dark, clouds gathered, and it rained. With the first lightning in front of my eyes, it was black, and I woke up in the next world with thousands of questions still in my mind.

Viva la révolution! Vive la France! Faded gray peacoat Blue, white, red patch

A shotgun in its holster A ringing in my ear And little recollection Of how I landed here

Blood of noble comrades Spilt on ground of humble slums Furrowed brows of angry soldiers Marching with imperial hums

I cannot die in battle But how can I go back home? As I have seen this revolution Claim lives not unlike my own

No time to think of my own self Gunshots ring in the air I’m abandoning the present To show the past I care

Grantaire fires through the barricade Courfeyrac yells to take cover Little Gavroche runs between my legs Disregarding his own brother

Enjolras is as the head His brazen eyes unshaken He waves the flag, blue white and red A banner for the lives they’ve taken

These people are my brothers now I’ll stay and fight the swarm I cock my gun and bow my head And march into the storm

And though I may die in battle For them I will take that chance Viva la révolution! Vive la France!

My eyes flick open, I don’t feel like myself. Snow is falling all around me and my clothes look so old. I try to look around but instead I walk forward.

I watch from the eyes of this character as their story plays out around them.

Whenever something goes wrong in my life, I go to my escape, books. I have a secret that no one knows. When I read a book, no matter what it is, I’ll get transported to the place. After the time I ended up in Dracula’s castle, I started being a little more careful about what I read. I scroll through the books on the tablet, looking for a new book to read. My brother, Lyman and I share the tablet, so there’s usually a new book downloaded. I find one that looks interesting soon enough. The cover shows a man with bright red hair looking out a window. He’s holding a gun. I touch the summary section and skim through it. “Hmm,” I think for a while. It’s a Wild West themed book. I’ve already been in the Wild West a few times with Louis L’amour’s characters, but this is a new author. New authors are risky, but I already want to read this one and I know that I’ll never get it off my mind until I do. I open the book and find myself in what appears to be the dining room. I’m going on an adventure with Hopalong Cassidy and his friends. I hope it turns out great!

Waking up in a 19th-century novel was bewildering, but I had to adapt and blend in. I found myself dressed in period clothing, and outside the window, a Victorian world thrived.

With a firm resolve, I decided to remain inconspicuous, avoiding interference with the story. I learned the manners, language, and social norms of this era, all the while studying the characters and plot of the novel, trying to identify my location.

Days turned into weeks, and I began to establish a rapport with the novel's characters. I subtly influenced events using my knowledge, helping to steer the story in the right direction without revealing my true identity. It was a delicate balance, but I managed to become a trusted confidant to some.

As I delved deeper into the novel's plot, I discovered clues about my predicament, hints that perhaps I could find a way back to my own time. I needed to unravel the mystery behind my sudden appearance in this world.

Finally, after careful research and clandestine inquiries, I stumbled upon a cryptic passage in the novel that hinted at the means of returning home. It involved a hidden doorway, known only to a select few, which served as a portal to other realms. It was my ticket back to the modern day.

One fateful evening, under the cover of darkness, I managed to locate the elusive doorway. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, I stepped through, feeling a rush of energy and dizziness engulf me. In an instant, I was back in the modern world.

Relieved and grateful, I marveled at the familiarity of the bustling streets and the sounds of contemporary life. I was back where I belonged, with the memory of my time as a character in an old novel as a unique and extraordinary experience. It was a tale to be cherished, a story within a story that I would carry with me for the rest of my days, a secret adventure that would forever set me apart from the ordinary.

(Leona pov)

 Darkness surrounded me as I looked around the room I was in. The last thing I remembered was some strange person knocking me out with a frying pan. My eyes adjusted to the darkness the room was basically just a box no color no furniture nada. I struggled against the chains keeping my hands stuck to the floor. 

“Retrace your steps Leona.” I said. I thought back to what I was doing before this happened.

I woke up in the morning and went to the bakery, then I came home and gave the pastry’s to my sister. I began shouting with all my might. “What did you do to her?!” I yelled as a man came into my cell. The man was huge and his face was stony no emotion was going to show no matter what I did. “Were is my sister?!”

“Don’t worry she will be fine. She won’t even know that your gone, if you listen to Boss.” Said the man leaving. When he came back there was a kid with him. “You can keep her company.” The man said tossing him in the room. He landed hard on the concrete floor and groaned. I gasped. “Are you okay?” I asked. The kid sat up. “Yeah,” he said. We sat in silence for a while. Then the kid gasped.

“He’s gone knows our chance.” The kid jumped up breaking the chains that held him down. He took a hair clip out of his pocket. With a click my hand cuffs fell off. “We go left than right then left. If we see anyone follow my lead.” He said. “But the door is locked.” I said both amazed and confused. “Leave that to me.” The kid smiled in a way that said, I’m confident but I won’t be cocky about it.

The kid held out a hair clip, and picked the lock “Shh.” He crept out of the room, I followed. We went left that right then left. But just as we opened the door to leave an alarm sounded. Within seconds we were surrounded.

“What know?” I said. The kid looked worried for the first time (at least that I’ve seen) the guards were closing in on us if we didn’t act soon there would be no chance of escape.