Slapshot to Another World

?????, Age ??

It was halfway through the second period, and we were down two to four. The crowd was raucously cheering. I white-knuckled my hockey stick while waiting for the referee. My adrenaline coursed through my body. At least I wasn’t centre, having to fight over the puck. Finally, the referee skated to one of the neutral zone face-off positions closer to our side of the rink. Everyone took their places and readied for the puck drop. The seconds felt like they were going at a snail’s pace. Then, the puck left the ref’s hand.

The centres vied for the puck aggressively. Finally, after clashing sticks, I found the puck sliding towards me on the right. Without a second thought, I launched forward and caught the puck on the blade of my stick. I managed to skim past the opposing winger, that tried to block me. Both defensemen readied by placing themselves between me and the goal. I did my best to fake out the defensemen before I fired a shot at the net. The puck whistled through the air in a split second. But the goalie managed to raise his blocker, which sent the puck rocketing upwards.

The commentator sounded overly animated as he commented on my shot on goal. The cheers and jeers were like a chorus rocking the stadium. This was why I played hockey. The puck plummeted back down to the ice. Every player was already close to where it would fall. The puck smacked against the ice, and the opposing team had already taken control of it on the way down the ice. My team raced to catch up, the defensemen desperately trying to keep themselves between the opposing players and our goal.

I was barely catching up to the man who had the puck. But out of nowhere, I was checked into the boards full force. My head bounced off the glass. Thankfully, my helmet had softened the impact. But, disorientated, I continued to skate forward and follow the puck. Finally, after a couple seconds, I managed to shake off the confusion. I had taken checks earlier in the game. I was feeling the effects slowly piling on. I started skating at full speed again. However, I was far behind the opposing players.

Those seconds of my dazz were all it took for the opposing team to reach the blue line. The player with the puck wound up, and I immediately knew what would come next. The player’s blade of his stick came down like a wrecking ball. It struck the puck and caused it to speed toward the goal.

It was a full power slapshot.

One of my team’s defensemen had managed to get his stick in front of the sailing puck. But, unfortunately, it ricocheted off the blade and into the air, backward past the player that had shot it. I continued skating forward, right into the path of the streaking puck. Something had seemed to grab ahold of the time flow and forcibly slowed it to an agonizing pace. Time clawed its way by as I watched the ever-advancing puck.

I watched as it smashed full force into my helmet. Apparently, my helmet wasn’t up to snuff because everything went black. It was viscous ink. It felt like it clung to my conscience, keeping me from the waking world. I don’t know how much time passed or if it passed at all. All I knew was I was stuck in that oppressive blackness that constituted unconsciousness.

––––––

Kenneth Rothach von Kastoss, Age 4

I found myself on the bank of a river with a wooden sword in hand. I slowly looked around, trying to figure out what happened. The river was clear as crystal as it flowed by. I could hear birds chirp from the trees on the opposite bank. It was as idyllic as it could probably be. Unfortunately for me, this was not what I expected.

I was doubly surprised by what I found when I looked down at myself. I was a young boy again. The clothes I wore seemed to be more primitive compared to the T-shirts, jeans, and jackets I remembered. I moved the arms and legs that seemed to be mine and examined what I could. A short sleeve white shirt, grey pants, and brown leather shoes adorned my body.

I had no clue if this was real or not. It certainly felt real. Abruptly something poked at the back of my head. I felt… heard? What sounded like a voice from the back of my mind. But I couldn’t make out anything. Stuck in my head, I failed to notice someone walking up to me.

“Hey there, Ken. Still out practicing, huh?”

I whipped around to find an older boy with dark copper hair. I immediately knew this boy as my oldest brother, Sterling. How I knew that was another question entirely. I took a second to look at the wooden sword in my hand before l looked back up.

“Do you think I’ll get into Nylah Academy if I keep training?”

Where did that question come from? Why did I ask it?

“I don’t know. From what I heard from Mother and Father is that Nylah Academy is more for arts, athletics, and more academic pursuits than swordplay,” My new brother responded with a thoughtful expression.

“Oh,” was all I could respond with. I looked down despondently. But before I could dwell further, I felt a hand rub my head.

“How about we have a duel?”

“Really?” I asked as I looked up hopefully. I looked past the hand that retreated from my head. The smile that radiated from Sterling was contagious.

“We’ll have to make it quick. It’s almost time for dinner,” He replied as he grabbed the wooden sword he had latched on his belt. And with that declaration, we started smashing swords together.

––––––

So I was Kenneth Rothach von Kastoss. The youngest son of the small Noble House of Kastoss. I sat at the dining table with my new family. Father sat at the head of the table with Mother to his right. Father had dark brown hair, while Mother had fiery red hair. Everyone was quietly eating with the slight clinking of cutlery. Sterling sat on Father’s left side while I sat next to Sterling. Beside Mother sat a girl with markedly similar hair. Her name was Phoebe, and she was my older sister. While Sterling was thirteen and I was four, Phoebe was eight.

But back to my interactions with Sterling before dinner. I still don’t understand why I had asked what I did and reacted how I did. It was almost like I had little control. Whatever I had pricked at the back of my mind likely had something to do with it. The only reason I knew what I did was likely tied to whoever Kenneth used to be. I didn’t know if I had somehow usurped this life after I had taken that slapshot to the head.

This is my new life, seemingly with no way to return to my old life. Even though I didn’t feel anything like an ominous foreboding or something like that. I still involuntarily shuddered as if a cool breeze had passed through the dining room.