Harold's Destiny

We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. It really did look lovely, and I was beginning to look forward to a week’s holiday with my mates Brad, Phil, Wallace and Sir Harold Whitaker Stolt III, Destroyer of Worlds. Yes that is his actual name. No I am not joking. His mum and dad took turns naming their kids, and since Harold was the middle child, his dad got to name him. Anyway, we got up to the top of the hill and parked the car. I opened the door to get out, but immediately slammed it shut and exclaimed, "Bugger this, let's go somewhere warmer!", and without hesitation Brad put the car into reverse, and we were rocketing down the mountainside - or rather, off the mountainside - as Brad had been a little bit too keen for our new plan to visit the Caribbean and failed to make the turn in time. As we made our untimely departure from the road, we spent a few seconds plowing through a patch of shrubbery and small trees before bursting out the other side in slow-motion. We spent a brief moment weightless as our Subaru de-forester levitated in the air, not dis-similarly to how a cartoon character would do, before slowly creaking and tilting forward to face the several hundred metre drop that awaited us. We all fastened our seat-belts upon seeing this. As the car began to plummet downwards, racing towards it's terminal velocity like a dog chasing literally anything, Harold began to panic. He did this even despite the large, friendly letters on the cover of his copy of The Hitch-Hikers Guide to The Galaxy specifically instructing him otherwise. "Brad you bloody plonker! You've killed us! We're all going to die!"

"Relax dude, we're fine.” Wallace replied.

"Fine? We are most certainly not fine! Does that make it look like we're fine to you?" Harold said, reaching over the centre console from the back seat to point at the ground, which was now close enough to make out the groups of animals scrambling to out of our way. "In what way could you possibly reach the conclusion that we are fine? I don't know about you, but crashing into the forest floor at a hundred miles an hour is not my idea of fine! You doughnut!"

Of course, Wallace was in fact not a doughnut, because he was correct. We were fine. As a matter of fact, we weren't even falling anymore. Our descent had been gently slowed over a couple of seconds until it had stopped completely, about one hundred metres above the forest floor. Harold, blinded by his irrational panic, had failed to realise this until about thirty seconds after our initially scheduled appointment with the earth's crust. By the time Harold came to his senses and realised that we were not going to die after all, our vehicle had not only stopped falling, but had inexplicably begun to ascend back up the side of the cliff. We all looked at Brad for an explanation, as if he was somehow orchestrating this miraculous recovery by reversing up the side of a sheer rock face. Upon realising that we were driving a hatchback and not a mountain goat, we each began looking for the true source of our car's newfound rock-climbing ability. It wasn't until Phil looked in the side mirror that he was able to determine the cause of our somewhat unusual situation. "Bloody hell look at this!” he said, prompting Brad, Wallace and I to look out of our respective windows. "Crikey!” we exclaimed in unison. We had never seen anything like it. Harold, being seated in the middle back seat and unable to see past the luggage piled in the boot, demanded a description. "There's like this blue light that’s wrapped itself around the car and is acting like a rope to pull us up.", I said, "It looks like it's... It's pulling us up into a flying saucer!"

Harold, of course, did not believe me at first (as if there was a more rational explanation for what was happening) but upon seeing the blue light start wrapping around the bonnet, he accepted it as the truth.

Sure enough, a few moments later, the car entered through the large hanger doors on the bottom of the saucer, gently re-orientated itself and - rather unceremoniously - dropped onto the floor. Brad winced at the thought of the damage done to the suspension of his car, but soon forgot about it when a door opened on the other side of the room, and two aliens emerged, walking towards us. They were large creatures, but, other than a few facial features, appeared to be remarkably similar to humans. The two aliens stopped about ten metres in front of the car, and paused for a moment before the slightly larger one bellowed in a deep voice, "Where is the human of the name: Sir Harold Whitaker Stolt III, Destroyer of Worlds?" There was a brief period of discussion in the car, before Phil opened his door and stepped out, immediately followed by Harold. Phil rushed back into the car and slammed the door, after which Brad locked all the doors.

"Sir Harold Whitaker Stolt III, Destroyer of Worlds?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"You must come with me."

"No, I don't think I will."

"It is your destiny."

Harold paused for a moment, "... it’s not."

"Yes Harold, it is. Your father named you this way for a reason; he is our king, and you his heir. Now that you have reached the suitable age, you must come with us so you may begin your training so you can one day rule the galaxy like your great grandfather Sir Harold Whitaker Stolt the Great."

"Yeah, alright then. You've convinced me.", Harold replied, as he began to walk towards the aliens."

"Oi!” I shouted from the car, "What about us?"

"Don't worry guys, I've got you sorted.", Harold said, now at the Aliens' side. He whispered something to it, and the creature nodded, before leaving the hanger with Harold through the same door from which they emerged just a few moments prior.

"Bugger.", I said, "What are we going to do now?", but before anyone could answer, the ship lurched forward and we sped off towards some unknown destination.

A few moments later, we felt the ship slow down to a stop, before the blue light began to coil around the car once again, and the hanger doors below us started to slide open. The car began to fall for the second time that day, and those of us that were left in the vehicle all closed our eyes as we braced ourselves for certain death. Just as we were sure we were about to meet our makers, we realised that the car was not falling after all. I nervously and slowly opened my eyes, half expecting to see the pearly gates, but instead all I saw was a beach. Not just any beach, though, a beautiful, pristine, postcard worthy beach. The sort of thing that is so perfect you can hardly believe it isn't photo shopped, despite seeing it first-hand. We each got out of the car and looked around. It really was paradise.

"Welcome to The Caribbean, lads!", yelled Harold from above us. We looked up and saw him standing at the edge of the hanger door, holding a large, black duffle-bag and wearing a pirate hat (I still don't know why the Aliens had that onboard). "Enjoy it for me! Here's your spending money.” he said as he dropped the duffle-bag. It landed in front of us with a crash. Phil walked over and unzipped it, revealing that it was filled to the brim with cash. Before we could thank him he continued, "Righto, I've got to be going now. I'll be back in... I'll be back at some point. Anyway, I'll see you guys later.", and with that, the hanger doors closed and the spaceship flew off into the distance.

"Well then.", said Phil, looking at the cash and then back to the rest of us, "I guess it’s party time!"