This part is written for this prompt
When Michael offered to take me to visit my planet, I had been pleasantly surprised, my inner nerd squealing. There was no magical broomstick (“I’m not a witch”, Michael had grumbled) or a bright magenta portal, but instead there was the soft brush of wind in my hair in the two seconds I’d had my eyes closed on Michael’s instruction, and when the chilly wind stopped, and my eyes hesitantly fluttered open, there was a warm breeze to replace it, as I stood facing a light blue river, from the looks of it, and when I looked at my feet, they were standing on inky midnight blue, rocky ground.
I turned around to see Michael watching me again, and I knew my eyes were wide as I let out a hysterical little giggle. This was actually happening-this was reality. This was my planet. I hadn’t named it, because nothing had quite fit, but it didn’t bother me. I knew this was happening, though I had been completely disbelieving in the beginning.
I turned my attention to the scenery, feeling utterly dumbstruck. I felt bad about not having taken a camera with me, because I wanted to remember it. Just as the thought crossed my mind, Michael cleared his throat from behind me, and produced my Sony camera. I stared slack-jawed for a minute, and he grinned, saying, “You don’t want to know.”
I agreed with him, shaking my head, but felt grateful nonetheless. The next God-knows-how-long amount of time was spent recording every minute detail of the planet that I could call mine, and when I felt satisfied, I went up to the man who had made all this possible, not knowing how to thank him for fulfilling my admittedly childish but still somehow significant fantasy.
Michael, seemingly sensing my distress, pulled me into a completely unexpected hug, which I relaxed into after a few seconds. I was going to miss the guy.
When we had pulled away, he scrutinized my face and asked, “Do you want to leave something? I don’t know, maybe a message?”
I stared for a minute before it clicked, bringing back all my giddy feelings about the situation. Michael was asking me if I wanted to leave a mark, something like a “Henry Poole Was Here”. I barely managed to hold in my squeal, and said excitedly, “Yes! Do you have a key or something?”
Michael chuckled, producing a key out of thin air. I rolled my eyes, muttering, “Show-off”, but quickly forgot my annoyance as I ran to the nearest tree.
I worked on it for a while, wanting it to be perfect. When I was finished, I looked back, examining it, and, feeling accomplished, I turned back to Michael, who seemed to find me entirely too amusing. He chuckled all the way to our starting point, and I smiled. I was proud of my work.
I turned back one more time, sighing wistfully, before deciding I needed to record this as well. I speed-walked back to the tree, and aimed my camera in front of it. I got the perfect angle, and the click felt final.
I ran back to a still amused Michael, and held his hand as I checked the display. The latest photo showed a clear engraving-
-followed by my full name. I chuckled to myself before saying, “Let’s go”.
I closed my eyes again, shivering as the chilly air hit me, and when I opened my eyes, I was in my bedroom, and as I looked around, I realized I was alone.