The PostmanMature

In a flat monotone, the postman said "The Atlanteans are an ancient race of people who used to live on Earth. The survivors of what is known as the Terrible Flood in their history created another dimension where they built a new life. A few moved back to Earth and built lives here: that is how it is possible for you to be a descendant. The Atlanteans, as well as being able to perform magic, are extremely intelligent. They were one of the first races to accept women as equals with men in society, make tools and jewellery out of metal. On Earth, they traded with the islands surrounding Atlantis, including the country you call Greece."

"Okay, you can stop there," Rory said.

The postman instantly fell quiet.

"Can I ask him a question?" I asked Rory.


I turned to the postman. It felt kind of weird to be talking to someone who was hypnotised and would answer truthfully any question asked. It was also slightly weird to think that the man was under Rory's power and would do anything Rory asked him to do. I didn't know whether I thought that was okay or wrong.  

"Are you an Atlantean?"

"Yes," the postman replied.

"Does the race have any sort of reputation for being evil or any history of vicious murderers?"

"No," the postman replied. "The Atlanteans have been a peaceful race since the days they defeated the Black Ones."

"Who are the Black Ones?"

"A group of ten men and women intent on conquering the Earth."

I looked at Rory and swallowed.  There was no doubt this man was telling the truth: he was hypnotised. "That's quite serious." I turned back to the postman. "And the ten children in Atlantis currently, they have to defeat them?"

"Yes," the postman replied.

"We have to see what we can do to help," I told Rory. "Release him and tell him to take us to the people who want us to do this mission. There we can find out any more useful information and how the ten other descendants are doing."

Rory nodded. "I agree," he said.

He turned to the postman and said "When you wake up, you will take us to your leader or leaders."

Rory clicked his fingers.

The postman's eyes regained focus. "Follow me," he instructed us, which seemed quite funny really, "and bring the turquoise."

Rory popped back into my room and picked up the stone, pocketing it, and I brought the letter, just in case it held some vital clue we hadn't picked up on yet, and we followed the postman outside.

He muttered something under his breath and then a hole appeared in the ground. He stepped in.

It was evident that we had to do the same.

Rory held my hand, squeezing it, and together we stepped forwards.

The End

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