The Legend of Harper and the Reversing Worlds, Trilogy One:
The History of the Lost
World of Pasmaqon,Created 1854
A large house sat at the edge of “The Denny’s River,” near where the river met the ocean. A house, called “The Inn” by locals, sheltered many guests over the years. Caroleen, a young lady in the midst of her adolescence had a habit of listening in on the town’s people’s tales and beliefs about “The Reversing Falls.” It was considered a deceptively secret retreat where the ocean currents formed a phenomenal whirling of the tides, which began and ended at the ocean’s floor. Some said, the strong tides contained many secrets of a Lost World; others said it was a place of tragedy and a place where evil hid. All agreed “The Falls” was a thrilling mystery.
Caroleen was intrigued with all of the town people’s stories. Most days Caroleen found herself resting along the shores of the ocean after a long day of hard work. She would escape by writing down her imaginable thoughts in her numerous journals. She found comfort by the ocean, and imagined triumphant lands in her mind. She envisioned the lands hidden below the sea’s floor, under “The Reversing Falls.” She pictured all of the different characters in her mind that might live in the mysterious world. She drew maps and diagrams of the secret world. She visualized the spectacular place, which she called the land of Pasmaqon. Although, Pasmaqon was its own worst compelling character, and seemed to haunt her through the whispers of the water’s surface.
Her imagination stretched across the pages, and she filled many journals, including a particular journal, that she discovered in one of the rooms at the inn. The journal held a peculiar clasp and was filled with blank pages. In this journal, she wrote all of her most imaginative secrets of the lost world.
She chose not to tell anyone of her imaginable endeavors; knowing her parents would assign more work, to keep her from her crazed thoughts. Daydreaming was what helped her survive the long hours, and the many faces that she daily met. Sometimes she thought her characters appeared to her in her dreams. She began to believe that her stories had grown into a reality. The characters often visited her through the water’s edge, eager to tell her the true mysteries of Pasmaqon.
On the afternoon of January 24, 1854, a winter storm claimed the lands. The snow accumulated and quickly concealed the inn, blending in with the river’s edge.
Caroleen pulled on her high boots, wrapped her heavy dress through her legs, and tucked the bulky edges into her belt. She put on her hat and mittens and grabbed a bag of birdseed on her way out the door. She fed the birds that chose to fight though the harsh winter day. She made her way through the mountains of snow, trying to find the bird feeder that once stood in the middle of their lawn.
Caroleen could hear voices coming from the river’s edge. “Miss Caroleen, we need your help; we are in danger.” The voices screamed through the stormy air around her. Caroleen made her way through the snow to the river, hoping she would make sense of the voices.
“Miss Caroleen, we need you,” a small voice whispered. “There is no time.” The voice grew, hazily through the air, which seemed to come from the glassy ice that topped the river. Caroleen climbed through the snow, making it to the river’s edge. She braced herself over the snow-protected ice. She cleared away the snow and cupped her hands to look inside the glass-like ice covering the chilled water. She strained her eyes; she thought she had seen an image of some sort. What looked like a face, worked its way closer to the surface. She wiggled her body across the ice in hopes of getting a better look.
Just then, the ice cracked around her, she tried to frantically maneuver back towards the snow bank for safety, but it was too late. The surface gave way and sent her in the cold waters below. The current of the ocean claimed her as its’ own.
The years passed, her family and the town’s people gave up, and lost hope in ever finding Caroleen Grogen. Her disappearance was a true mystery; some wondered if the heavy currents of Reversing Falls had taken her forever.
The only memories she left behind, were her journals of Pasmaqon. Caroleen had kept them all in the bottom of her hope chest. Since then, the chest had been handed down through the generations. Eventually, the journals were covered with memorabilia from new generations. Nobody took an interest in the journals or even ventured to find out about the secrets that danced along the pages. Caroleen’s stories remain a mystery because they have never been read…
J.T. Brown
by Deborah Coonts
