Anyway, she's having a grand old time out there in Arizona now. Oh, wait, no she's not, if this post is any example. Maybe she should move to Massachusetts.
It started out like any other Friday evening. The Gamer and I loaded The Tinys up in the car and told Uncle AZ where to meet us. Another weekly Friday night out after a long week, the evening we all look forward to, a chance to eat somewhere other than home. For me, a chance to get out of cooking and eat something I didn't have to prepare and a free pass from dishes. This evening, we were headed to a local pizza parlor, Peter Piper Pizza. (Think Chuck E Cheese) Proceeds would benefit Tiny Bard's school, raise funds for his trip to Washington DC in the Spring. What could possibly go wrong?
Nothing seemed amiss that night, nothing foretold of the evil we were about to encounter, or the epic adventure we would be embarking upon. There were no dark clouds on the horizon, no wisps of smoke from Mordor, no Bat Symbol in the sky, and my Spidey senses weren't telling me anything was amiss.
Oh, if only we had known. . .
That night we stepped into another realm. Another world full of screaming goblins, slobbering monsters, and hordes of little trolls. There is no coming back. We will never be the same again.
There was a moment when I thought I wouldn't survive, that I wouldn't escape, that I would never see the light of day again.
I was up against a wall, holding fast to Tiny Artist, pulling him against me as the mass of little bodies crushed us.
This is how it ends
The thought crossed my mind as I hugged my son close. It was futile, we were never getting out. We were cornered, lost in the sea of these little monsters, and we were doomed.
Then, through the smoke and haze of swirling lights my eyes fell upon a most welcome figure. The Gamer strode towards us, parting the ways with his mighty sword. Towering above the horde of smaller monsters, he purposefully made his way towards us. Like Moses parting the Red Sea, he proceeded through the swirling mass of madness.
Over the din of dings, beeps, screeches and caterwauls I dimly heard him calling my name.
I reached a desperate hand out to him, beseeching him to grasp my fingers in his much larger hand.
"Save us," I begged. My other hand clutching my youngest son as another wave of these evil hobbits moved against us.
He emerged from the battle, appearing through the dust like a Savior. He clasped my hand in his, fingers closing over my own, giving me hope. I raised my eyes to his and smiled at my hero. With a feeling of relief, I saw that his free hand was holding onto my other son.
He pulled me towards him, and the four of us huddled together. A fortress in the strength of our numbers, we pulled on one another's strength and made our way through the trenches.
Looking back, I can't tell you how long it took us to be free, how many times we were pushed and pulled, tugged this way and that. Just how close we were to losing each other again, the four of us holding hands as if our very lives depended on it (and they did, I assure you), determined to never let go. We pulled one another through the throng of little trolls and finally, exhausted, we stumbled out of the war zone.
Falling through the door back onto the sidewalk, we gasped for air.
Laughter escaped us, that relieved laughter that comes from the heart, the laugh of a survivor.
My eyes met The Gamer's and we smiled. He had save us from being lost forever in the sea of screaming, undulating children in a mad house of noise and confusion.
I lifted my face to the night sky, inhaling deeply of the smell of freedom. Never had the moon looked so bright, so beautiful.
We were free.
Starr is a freelance writer and blogger. She works from home when she's not taking care of her two (often disgusting and always funny) boys. She's a little on the crass side, heavy on the snark and serves her writing up with a lot of swears. She's funny in the face of adversity. She writes humorous pieces and sometimes raw and gritty pieces about divorce, grief, depression and anxiety. Never one to let life knock her around she is, "beautifully broken and writing the pieces back together one word at a time".
In a life long love affair with Vampires, Zombies, and all things Horror, you can guess her favorite movie genre and what she would most like to write a book about. Her love of boxed wine is infamous. Starr loves to connect with other bloggers, writers, and chat with her readers.
Check out her blog, The Insomniac's Dream. Follow her on Twitter and become her fan on Facebook.