The Puddle

It had rained. A lot. All at once. The world was drenched and so were the kids meandering in their ponchos. The heavy air hung among the trees and warmed the lungs of those who breathed it in. There was no crisp feeling after the rain. It felt muggy. Murky. Mysterious. The only things that dissipated the sinister ambiance were the bright yellow galoshes that adorned the feet of someone just as bright. They grinned from ear to ear. This was their favorite weather. This was the time for adventure.

The wet grass welcomed the soles of the kid with a satisfying squish and a small spray of mud. After running a few circles and some distorted shapes in the grass, they grew weary of this activity. Out of breath and curious about an odd looking body of water, they walked over to a large pothole filled with potential. They peered in, expecting to see unsettled mud amidst water and pebbles.

But this puddle was different. It held its own realm. Nestled in the parted concrete, some grass and weeds grew. They looked like miniature trees that had been planted underwater. The breeze startled the water and swayed the plants in a wave-like manner. It was a small world tucked away in a much bigger, less calm world, and the kid found themselves at peace.

Impulsively, they reached out and touched the water, swirling their finger about. But the puddle had its own ideas for the kid. In a flash of light and what one can only call magic, the kid was whisked away into the realm they had recently been admiring. They travelled through a spiraling tunnel with a bright light at the end of it. The kid realized this was a real adventure. Like in books and movies.

The tunnel spit them out and instead of landing hard on their face and onto the ground, they floated upwards and caught onto something green and leafy. It looked a lot like the weeds in the puddle. The more they looked around, the more it seemed they were in the puddle. Panic rose in the kid’s throat. How am I breathing? I want to go home. I want dinner and dessert. Am I dead?

“No child.” A voice boomed from all around, it seemed. “You have been given the power to breath underwater. You are not dead. You have been shrunk to help us.”

Before the kid got the chance to ask who is “us” the voice answered, “we are the lost civilization of Atlantis. Scattered through the world’s puddles. In search of a permanent home to live in. We need your help.” But, one must question the authority of this voice, and whether or not it can be trusted to tell the truth or not. The kid pondered the statement. Isn’t Atlantis a myth, and why my help? Common sense and skepticism were starting to kick in.

“…my help?”

“Yes, dear child, yours.”

Perplexed, the kid let go of the grass and instead of floating away, sunk to the bottom, and firmly planted their feet on the ground.

“But why?”

There was a silence, then muffled speaking over something that sounded like an intercom. An awkward silence settled in and the kid pondered clapping their hands to make it less awkward. But they also continued to question the validity of the voice’s words. Why my help?? A few seconds later a different voice, hypnotic and venomous, spoke.

“Because we need your help.” That didn’t really answer the question. Their years of being a younger sibling let them know they were being tricked into something. Seeing the kid’s skepticism and unwillingness to cooperate, the voice barked some commands in a foreign language and the kid found themselves restrained in a chair that appeared out of seemingly nowhere. They struggled against the chair, but to no avail. Four guards appeared out of seemingly nowhere as well. There was more panic. Some screaming. And finally, some tears. But they did not roll down the kid’s cheeks, instead, they mixed with the mysterious water that once seemed so enchanting but now was five types of frightening.

“Let me try again…You will help us.”