So it’s true, he thought, it’s really true.

A beautiful golden harp stood at the edge of the water, its rich brown wood gleaming in the dappled sunlight.

You see, the boy was Christopher. He was a rather small one for his age, but beyond that, he was nothing in particular. Not particularly clever, strong, agile, athletic, nor talented. He was just an ordinary boy with ordinary looks. Although he sometimes wished for those things, he knew they would never come true, or at least that’s what he thought.

For one night when he was fast asleep, a strange wind combed through his dreams and something happened that would change everything he had ever known.

Find the harp... and beware of all that try to lure you into their wicked traps.

That was when it all started.

He awoke to absolute silence. Glancing at the clock, Christopher saw that it was exactly seven-ten, meaning his father was going to be bursting out the door and his mother was going to be waking him up any second. He waited patiently, but nothing happened. Seven-fifteen. Seven-twenty-six. Seven-thirty. There was no noise coming from downstairs, nor was there the usual lively bustle and chatter coming from the kitchen. At seven-forty, Christopher jumped out of bed, got dressed, and rushed down the stairs to see what was wrong, and indeed, many things were wrong. His parents were nowhere to be seen, and there nothing on the table for breakfast. The morning paper had been delivered, but it still lay on the front porch. Christopher rushed back up the stairs to his parents’ room to find it empty. 

Where have they gone? he wondered, beginning to panic.

Frightened, Christopher opened the front door. His parents’ cars were still parked. The bus was to come at any minute now. Where were they?

He reached for the phone, then shook his head and laughed. How often it was that things happened like this! Off to see a sick neighbor, or... taking a taxi... or accidentally forgetting to wake Christopher up! It could have been anything!

Sighing, Christopher poured his milk and cereal into his bowl, but after many minutes it became soggy and tasteless with the milk too sweet, and he dumped into the sink and sighed. His parents still had not appeared.

He leaned back into his chair and suddenly snapped upright, remembering his dream. The one that told him.. Find the harp... and beware of all that try to lure you into their wicked traps.

Christopher shook his head ever so slightly. That couldn’t be true, right? Surely his parents were about to burst  into the house at any minute and apologize for leaving him all alone. Surely this was just a miscommunication!

He wrapped his arms around his legs and put his head in the middle. It seemed so odd for this to happen, so odd for his dream to take place in reality. At eight-ten, after forgetting to catch the bus, Christopher pulled on his jacket and, after searching in his parents’ room for a while, found his mother’s necklace and his father’s pipe, as well as some perfume and a water bottle and put them in a bag. He slung it across his shoulders, looked at the house one last time, and took off.

At first Christopher did not know where he was going. The dream was too vague, and he felt like a fool following it, but he did. There was nothing else to do. He decided to head into the woods to see if there was anything there.

He treaded through the rotting leaves and came across a few big boulders, but that was about it. The dark, looming trees made him a bit uncomfortable, but still he pushed on, soon coming across a small steam that led out of the woods. Christopher sat down on a large rock to rest, and gulped down half of his water. He still had not seen anything.

Suddenly a crow made a frighteningly loud noise, and Christopher was so startled he jumped straight up into the air and his sack fell to the ground with his mother’s perfume rolling away. Christopher yelped and ran after it. He was going to go home!

The perfume had landed in a pile of leaves. Christopher carefully picked it up and examined it, sighed, and turned to walk back, but a sudden creaking made him turn back to look.

A gleaming golden harp had emerged in a way he did not know how, from the creek.

So it’s true, he thought, it’s really true.

He could do nothing but stare at it for a couple of seconds, until his mission registered once more in his mind.

He had to find his parents.

There were a number of things he could do. He could touch it. He could stare at it. Or he could strum it.

Christopher cautiously approached the harp on his tiptoes, as if it were a rabbit and would dart away at any second. He put his fingers close to it, then jerk then away as if he was just burned. But he wasn’t. He was just scared. Christopher tried again, his fingers shaking, and this time he did not pull them away at the last second. A strange, humming vibration buzzed through his body, but nothing else happened.

And that left only one more thing to do.

Christopher plucked a string on the beautiful golden harp.

When he was little, Christopher had taken guitar lessons. He was so bad at it, but when he listened to his teacher play it was so pleasant, so good. If he pretended to pluck the strings while his teacher played, it almost felt like he himself was playing the guitar that well.

That was what plucking the golden harp felt like. He plucked the string, but it didn’t really feel like he was the one who plucked it. It was more like he woke up the person who was really supposed to play it, and they plucked it, only they used his body to do it.

He shivered, but then shrieked in horror as the ground opened up beneath him and swallowed him whole, the wind whistling in his ears and the warning echoing through his skull.

After a while, Christopher felt a strange feeling. It felt like he was falling, and indeed he was. He was falling down, down, down, passing layers and layers of bookshelves and beds and curious rooms, and statues and cards and

chess boards. It was as if the falling passageway was a huge, tall storage room. Christopher’s mind was buzzing as he fell, and what felt like many hours later he landed with a thump! on a purple velvet cushion.

His eyes were closed, but he suddenly heard—“My, oh my! What do we have here? A young man, indeed!”

He peeked at the owner of the whimsical voice.

It was a rather tall old man with snow-white hair and wire spectacles. He held a staff in one hand and was wearing a dark green robe that reached all the way down to the floor. What was most curious about him was that his white beard was so long that it filled the entire floor of the oak-wood room and even piled up in some places. The rest of the room was filled with bubbling potions, many, many old books, strange gears, and just so many random things you could only call thingamabobs.

“A handsome young man indeed,” the old man said.

Christopher tightened his lips. Something seemed wrong here.

”Who are you?” he asked, getting a better look around at the man’s study.

”Why, I thought you’d never ask!” the old man replied. “I, of course, and the Great Wizard Waschwester!”

Christopher frowned and began, “Then why—”

”What is it you seek, young man?” the wizard asked excitedly, “Gold? Treasure? Wealth? Beauty? Happiness? Power?” 

Christopher raised his eyebrows. “I’m here to find my parents,” he said.

”Ahh I see! True LOVE, perhaps?” He whipped out a bubbling blue potion that Christopher quickly backed away from.

”I’m sorry, sir, but I just need to find my parents. Then I can bring them back.”

The wizard gave a great chuckle. “Surely you desire something more... what about a talent, perhaps?”

Christopher crossed his arms, although his face revealed, if only for a moment, somewhat of a greedy smile.

”Ahh, my dear! I think I have found what you have wanted! Come, now, and let me show you!” the wizard showed him a yellow-toothed smile.

Christopher took a step forward, then remembered. “I... I can’t, sir. I can’t.”

”And why might that be?” the wizard gave a slight frown, but quickly regained his composure. “How about I give you a friend?”

Christopher smiled. “No, I just need my parents.”

”I see how it is,” the wizard replied, apparently in thought.

”So, um, do you know where they are?” Christopher asked cautiously.

”Before we get into all of that, how about a brave heart for your parents to be proud of? I’m sure they aren’t all that proud of how you are right now. Come, lad!” the wizard said encouragingly. “I’m sure just a little change won’t do anything at all! Your parents, I know them! Oh, yes I do! They were just telling me this morning about how much they would like a brave, courageous, bold son!”

It can’t be that bad, Christopher thought, remembering how his parents sometimes looked at him disappointedly and reminded him to speak louder, or to do this or that without being embarrassed.

”Are you sure? They told me not... not to go into any traps...” Christopher began, but was quickly cut off by the Great Wizard Waschwester.

”How ridiculous!” the wizard began, but then seeing the look on Christopher’s face, hurriedly added, “Of course, of course! But do you really think an old gentleman like me would do anything like that to you?”

Christopher hesitated, then slowly shook his head.

”Good, then. Follow me, and I will also give you a beautiful land where you may be the king and ruler forever!”

The wizard turned around and marched into a small, narrow hallway, beckoning for Christopher to follow.

As Christopher took a step forward, something told him not to. He shook the feeling off and continued his confident pace forward. The wizard looked happy with himself.

Christopher looked uneasily at the turn at the end of the hallway.  “Is... is that where the land where I’m king... is that where it is?”

”Why, of course, young lad! Come on forward, and I shall show you!”

Christopher wanted to go back, but he wanted to go forward, but he wanted to go back, but he wanted to go forward, too...

”Are you sure? Do I have to... do anything?”

The wizard chuckled. “Why of course you would not need to do anything! You only need to tell me two teensy weensy things! And then you will be all set to become a king, and a brave king!”

“What do I need to tell you?” Christopher asked cautiously. Things were getting a bit strange, and he was starting to regret following the wizard. He did not know what to do. But what he did know was that he wanted to be good enough, so very badly. Good enough to have lots of friends, to be loved, to be respected, to be admired...

”Your parents’ names, dear,” the wizard replied smugly, “your parents’ names.”

Christopher thought for a moment, but it was in that moment that it was as if some kind of invisible force was dragging him into the dark hallway. He looked at the wizard for help, but the old man merely smiled.

”Come, young man, let us go! Your fortunes are waiting right there!” he pointed to somewhere deep within the dark, dark chambers and Christopher felt a lurch of unease in the pit of his stomach. But I want to be courageous, I want to be the ruler of...

”Your beautiful land is waiting, waiting for its ruler!” the wizard taunted, walking further into the narrow hallway. “King Christopher! Brave Christopher!”

Christopher was torn. Faintly, vaguely in his memory he remembered something... something about a warning, a trap...

“Christopher! Hurry! Or I will go without you!” The Great Wizard Waschwester spat, and Christopher suddenly remembered what he came for.

”Mom! Dad!” he yelled, and suddenly nothing was pulling him into the hallway, and he fell backwards with a thump.

”Why...” the wizard started, “Why... what were you thinking? Did not you want a brave, brave heart, one that your parents would be proud of?” steam was practically rising out of the wizard’s ears as he walked towards Christopher. “Get up this instant! We shall walk in there together!”

Christopher held his arm over his head, waiting to get pulled to his feet, but nothing happened. He peeked. The Great Wizard Waschwester was red in the face and breathing hard, but he could not even touch Christopher.

That was strange, Christopher thought, but nonetheless he ran back the way he came as fast as he could until he once again reached the wizard’s study. The wizard was right behind him, and Christopher yelled, “Give me my parents back! And then get away from me! I don’t want any of your ‘brave king’ nonsense!”

The wizard looked shocked, then smirked. “I see how it is, Christopher.”

Suddenly he was on his knees, pleading, “Please, Christopher! Please come with me! Please come—” he was cut off by a rushing, and the rushing was so loud it filled Christopher’s ears and consumed his thoughts, and, lightheaded and dizzy, he thought he just might’ve seen the proud faces of his parents, and it all faded into a nothingness, blurry and still in the misty air.

When Christopher awoke again, he was slightly disoriented. He saw a dim light that seemed to dart here, there, in and out of reach, and a steady drumming of something familiar.

He closed his eyes and thought he heard the clattering of dishes somewhere downstairs...

”Mom! Dad! Mom! Dad!” he shrieked, practically jumping from the stairwell to the kitchen. “Mom! Dad!”

Of course, they were there.