Just for the record: I decided to write this, why?
I’m not entirely sure. But what the hey? Have fun.
Hi. My name is Posy, and I come from the Shire.
I’m a hobbit. Now that we’ve covered the basics,
I’m going to tell you now, and only now, what I
look like. I’m 22, which is about 14 for human
standards. Of course you Tolkien fans all
already know that. I’m 3′ 5 and I have curly
brown hair and sort of tannish skin. I have brown
eyes. And I’m overweight. Why? I like pies.
I had my first pie when I was seven. I remember
it perfectly. My parents waited to give it to me
until I was seven because they wanted me to
appreciate it. See, we don’t live in the Shire, even
though that is where I was born. You know all
those fanfics where humans get zapped to Middle
Earth? Well, that happened to me. In reverse. So
I live on earth, and I’m poor. But anyway. My
It was blueberry. A big, hot, blueberry pie with
golden-brown crust and soft, sweet whipped cream
on top. I took my first small, savory bite, and there
was this rush of flavor. Before I knew what was
happening I had my entire face deep into it, hot
juice all over me, breathing in the steam and taking
in that wonderful taste.
Now I eat pies. All the time. I love them I love them
I love them I love them I love them! Mmm! It’s
been almost fifteen years since that pie, and oh
goodness I’ve never recovered. I do have a story to
tell, though, so I’ll stop talking about pies. It’s in
3rd person, just so you know. I hope you don’t mind.
Remember my name. It’s Posy.
Posy sat reading on the bank of a brook It was just
a small stream, about six inches deep, with a happy,
bubbling current. The day was hot, and the water
was cool and clear, but Posy didn’t want to go
wading. She was in her Sunday best: a pretty
green dress with a pale yellow sash, and she had
just gotten new dark green shoes. She hated shoes,
of course, but this strange, slightly barbaric place
where she’d grown up required them. And she
had to wear them even at times like this, because
she couldn’t let people see her feet. Foot hair
was not normal, Posy had learned.
Back when she was 15 and not so small for her age,
she’d had a friend. Her friend’s name was Nikki,
which Posy thought was a stupid name. But Nikki
had told her that Posy was far stupider, and Nikki
was always right. Posy was at this same spot with
Nikki and she’d taken off her shoes to go wading.
At the sight of her big, brown, hairy feet, Nikki
had started backing away. Posy didn’t notice that,
but when she looked up, Nikki was gone. They
hadn’t spoken since.
So Posy kept her shoes on when there were people
around, like there were now. And her shoes were
new, and money was short, so she couldn’t go
wading. Besides, she liked her book, which was
called Charmed Life, by Diana Wynne Jones. It
was fun, and it was giving Posy an itch for
It was growing late in the day, and the clouds were
just turning golden, when Posy finished her book.
She started walking home, with her face pointed up,
watching as the sky turned from gold to orange to
pink. It was pale grey-blue by the time she reached
her dingy little house. It looked blue in this light,
but in truth it was peeling white. Posy saw her
mom watching from the scratched living
room window, and realized that she’d completely
missed dinner, and was probably in a lot of trouble
for it. She stopped, set down her book, and pretended
to tie her shoe, trying to think of a legitimate
excuse. The problem was, Posy wasn’t a good
liar, and if she got found out she’d be in even
She continued to mime tying her shoe, and she
glanced up briefly. Her mother was giving her a
peculiar sort of scowl, and looking meaningfully
at the direction of Posy’s shoe. Posy looked at her
foot. Buckles. She didn’t even have shoelaces to
pretend to tie. Posy, as I said before, was a bad
liar. She grinned guiltily at her mom and got up
with difficulty. Maybe it was a good thing she’d
missed dinner. She could easily afford to lose weight.
Posy crossed the road and walked slowly up the
cracked, crumbly driveway. She’d tell the truth, she
decided. Maybe she’d even get lucky. The door
creaked open just before she started up the steps to it,
and her mother stood, three stairs above her and
looking very tall, and very forbidding. And to make
everything way worse, the smell coming out from
behind her was the smell of chicken pot pie.
“Sorry I’m late,” Posy began. “I was in the park,
reading my book, and I guess . . .” Posy paused,
considering. “I just lost track of time. I finished the
book, though,” she added brightly. “It was so good.
I’m so glad you got it for me for Christmas.”
Posy’s mom nodded. “I’m glad you like it so much.
Is that why you left it on the sidewalk?”
Posy looked over her shoulder, horrified to see
Charmed Life lying where she’d put it down
and carelessly forgotten it. She walked quickly
toward the book.
There was a shrieking and her mom screamed.
Posy had just a second to turn and see a car coming
towards her. It was fast. Lord, it was fast! But
then it stopped. Posy knew it was coming, somehow,
but everything was hanging, the screech, her mom’s
scream, all on the same note, unchanging. Posy
thought of the book. I wish I had more than one
life! she thought. Then everything started again.
The car hit her very hard. And that was it. No more
noise. Everything stopped.
Light. Hard, fuzzy, yellow light flooded her eyes.
Posy pulled them closed again and groaned. She
didn’t hurt, but she felt empty and exhausted.
she tried to pull her mind into focus, to figure
out what had happened. She’d been hit by a car.
That much was easy. So she wasn’t dead . . . . she
must be in a hospital. Yes. She was lying in a bed.
So she was in a hospital, and her mom was
probably there somewhere. How long had she
been out? Could have been days. It felt like
that. But the doctors would know something.
Something they shouldn’t. Curse her slow
She groaned again. Something about her feet.
Hair. She was a hobbit. If she was in a hospital
they would know she wasn’t human. They
could figure it out. And then what?
Posy opened her eyes. The light hit her like
a .. . . like a car. Her eyes immediately began
to water. But she kept them open, until finally the
light became less painful. She blinked the tears
away and found herself staring up at a smooth
wooden ceiling. A stupid idea nudged its
way into her brain. hospitals are white.
Posy decided to sit up. Deciding this was
easy. But actually doing it proved much harder.
She struggled and cried a little, but finally
managed to get upright. She was trembeling
with exhaustion and hunger. She looked around.
And she realized she must be dead afterall,
because this place was her heaven. Everything
at home was huge. The beds were hugely
difficult for her to climb into, and the doorknobs
were level with her head. But here, everything
was just her size. Next to her bed there was a little
table, and oh, she could have cried with happiness,
because there was a huge platter full of pies!
Her well-trained nose picked out the savory smell
of meat pies and berry pies, some familiar, some
strange, all delicious. Next to the platter was
a pot of tea, fresh and still warm, a cup that was
far smaller than the cups at home; perfect for
Undoubtably the pies were meant for her.
Posy didn’t ask–there wasn’t anyone to ask
anyway–she just picked up the nearest pie and
shoved her face into the scalding center. Gravy
poured out of it and into her mouth. The meat
was strange, but it was wonderfully tender, and
she relished it. After she’d picked off the last bits
of crust from the first pie she pulled a napkin
off the table, cleaned herself up, and ate a second
more slowly, using a fork and good manners.
The hot food got her brain going and made her
stronger. Now she could wonder where she was.
She could be in heaven, she supposed. Or maybe
in a coma. Perhaps she was asleep, knocked out
by the car. Maybe she’d dreamed the car, too. Did
people do dreams where they wondered if they
were dreaming? Probably. Did they do dreams
where you wondered if they did dreams where
you wondered if you were dreaming? Where you
wondered if they did dreams where you wondered
if they did dreams where you wondered if you were
dreaming? Where–Posy shook her head. And
wondered this time . . . . was she on an adventure?
Was she in Chrestomanci Castle? No.
Chrestomanci was a tall man. He’d have no use
for a room this small. Don’t be stupid, Posy.
Chrestomanci doesn’t even exist. So what does?
Are there really parallel universes? Maybe he’s real
in world 12 A. Posy came from 12 B. What if say,
world 12 F or something was Middle Earth? Or
Middle Earth was a different series altogether?
She could be in the Shire! Posy’s eyes went
very wide at this.
“Can I really be home?” she muttered. This didn’t
look like her house. But she could remember it
wrong. It’d been years, and she was very young
when she last saw it.
Posy thoughtfully selected a new pie. This one
was familiar: strawberry. But it tasted a little
strange anyway. Strawberries must be different
here. That settled it. She was in the Shire until
future notice. Here she wouldn’t be teased for
being short. Here she could gorge on pies until her
belly bloated full and ripe as the moon. Here
she could climb in and out of bed with ease.
And she could go around barefoot. Posy
kicked off her shoes and listened with satifaction
to the thump they made hitting the floor. She
would never wear them again. She happily
ran her bare, hairy toes through the blankets,
then poured herself a cup of tea.
Author’s Note: I’m writing again, I suppose.
Oh well. I’ve decided to put enters early on
in each of the lines to make them shorter,
easier, and faster to read. If you don’t like it
let me know. I really enjoy writing this story
and I’m going to keep at it, I suppose. Let me
know what you think, and where the story
should go from here. I’m writing by popular