Jack reached the edge of the cliff. He spent over four hours getting there. Finally, he was about to see the province of Natal from the edge of the Highveld. The gravel road was exactly what he expected. Now, for the fun part: the descent into the lush, green coastal province. This was in stark contrast to the Free State's straw coloured high-altitude grasslands. There was no chance of rain that day as it was the dry season.
With his bladder emptied, he commenced his journey. This type of trip was nothing new to him. His introversion fed his desire for solo exploration of this nature. He did these trips on a monthly basis, exploring the back roads of the country.
"It would be very easy for someone to set up a string of sorts between these two gates across the main road," he thought to himself. He visually scoured for anything suspicious between the two gate posts flanking the road. Confident that the road was clear, he drove on.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a lightning bolt hit the left gate support post. Within the same second, a second bolt hit the right gate. He was blinded by the intense blue electric-arc light. He had too much momentum to stop; he drove through the electric field.
On the other side of the electric field, the car died and ground to a halt still in gear. The bolts gave him a severe fright. He sat back in the car for a minute or two. This gave the adrenaline time to dissipate. Once Jack has calmed down, it was time to carry on.
The attempt to reset the car was successful… kind of. As he cycled the ignition to off, and back on the instrument cluster lit up. However, there was something strange going on. His digital bar-graph fuel gauge was replaced by a strange symbol showing he had infinite fuel. There also was an altimeter gauge in the cluster.
Confused and startled, he started the engine regardless. The road was much rougher than before the white-out. This didn't matter to Jack, as it was an excuse to engage low range. There was nothing out of the ordinary with that process and the car responded the usual way.
The valley came into view. However, it was blanketed in thick fog. Being the adventurer that he was, he pressed on down the steep, rough track. Although he enjoyed rough driving, something didn't seem right with the road. It appeared to be a wagon track made in the eighteen-eighties. He brushed his concerns off and continued down.
He reached the fog he saw earlier. The fog held another strange surprise. He was expecting fields, however, he was driving through a snow-covered wooded area. The track which he was following has almost disappeared. Manoeuvring around the random trees was still quite easy.
It was forty-five minutes since his last bathroom break. En-route, he was sipping the carbonated cooldrink, and now it wanted out of his body. He pulled over, killed the engine and found a tree to water.
He stuck his hand through the trouser zip and found the front opening in his boxers. However, he could not find his penis. He got more and more confused as he intensified the search. Fed up, he unbelted and lowered his trousers. Boxers went down in a separate movement. Now, it should have been far easier to find his penis.
But instead, he found a hairy vagina. Our protagonist now needed to pee desperately. Jack leaned against a sturdy tree and parted the lips of the vagina. It was his fantasy to be able to do that, and now he got a chance. The pee needed to be completed quickly; there was an icy wind touching his exposed body parts.
The confusion got even deeper as he pulled up silky female underwear. His combat-styled trousers become a tweed skirt. Socks changed into thick woollen stockings. The hiking boots remained as they were. He realised that somehow, he was transformed into a woman. He was now a she. The person that used to be Jack squeezed the breasts of the body he now controlled.
While the phrase: "what the hell?" swirled inside her head, she continued self-examination. It revealed that this body was blonde. Jack had brown hair. She had shoulder length braided ponytails, which were done in a professional and intricate manner.
"Whoever this lady is must be affluent," our protagonist thought to herself.
As she made her way back to the vehicle, she noticed a stopped vehicle parked behind hers. It must have been the vehicle that followed her all the way from the top of the pass. She made eye-contact with the driver, trying to suss out any instruction from him. The driver of the half-track gave her no signal either way.
"The world hasn't seen half-tracks since the second world war. These guys must be enthusiasts," she thought to herself. Halfway to her vehicle, she noticed her number plates. They have changed to YG0- 5. She gave up trying to figure out why. She was tired of all the surprises.
The good news was that the keys in her hand were for that vehicle. It locked and unlocked without issue. The engine could be started. It was one less item for her to worry about. It was still Jack's twenty-sixteen model of Suzuki Jimny.
"Am I pretty or pretty ugly?" she thought to herself. The interior mirror only showed her eyes; Jack's glasses were gone. She scratched around the interior of the car, then she found Jack's digital camera. A quick selfie later revealed that she was pretty. She estimated her own age at about eighteen to twenty-two years of age. Her hands were manicured and smooth; signs that she was taking care of herself.
As she drove on, the trees got denser and denser. They required more careful planning and manoeuvring around them. She giggled as the half-track behind her was getting stuck more often. It was not as short and manoeuvrable as the Jimny.
Jack's cellular telephone and the GPS were gone. In its place was a folded paper map. It was folded in a particular way, exposing a certain area of the map. Our protagonist has fully given up on logic; she now had to trust in magic.
The noise of a nearby truck caught her attention. She located the source of the noise and saw the vehicle, although distant, move from her left to her right. She made a beeline for that road, with the final push being a climb up an embankment. Only now she realised that she was driving through snow. Once on the road, for her amusement, she stopped to watch the half-track struggle up the embankment.
By now, her pristine hair was full of mud. Her expensive looking clothing was soiled. Her skin was dirty. But she didn't care. The rush of off-roading was well worth the dirt for her.
With a sense of failing light, she needed to figure out her destination. She picked up the paper map trying to figure out what it is telling her. The piece of paper resisted from being unfolded; almost like it would be glued. It wanted to keep its secrets. Frustrated, she gave up on the map; she just drove in the direction of the truck she saw earlier.
Her mind returned to thinking about her number plates. Her intuition told her that she could be someone very important: "Yankee-Golf are government plates. But what was the meaning of the zero? The five is a low number could it signify someone important?"
"Could I be the fifth most important person in the country?" she asked herself. She shook her head in disbelief.
A deer or some other creature jumped in the road. She slammed the brakes stopping well short of the creature. It looked at her; then made six steps before a left turn. The creature disappeared into the snow-covered forest. A quick look in the rear-view mirror revealed that the half-track was still behind her. She felt being watched and followed. Somehow it brought her comfort.
Prior to her left turn, there was a closed and guarded boom. It was clear to her that the guard on duty did not expect to see a vehicle. Slightly rattled and annoyed at being interrupted, he approached our driver.
"What are you doing here?" he inquired in a patronising tone. He spoke a strange language, but somehow, she understood what he was saying.
After a significant delay to formulate a reply, she stuttered: "I… I don’t know. I guess I got lost."
"Papers!" the guard demanded.
Confused, she scratched inside the car to find some sort of identification document.
"DON'T YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS?!!" she heard a second voice screaming. That voice then turned to our driver, once calmed down: "Madam, I do apologise for his incompetence. You may proceed freely. No need for 'papers'."
He bowed at her once she made eye contact with a man in his late-twenties. He continued with a slight fear in his voice: "I will make sure this doesn't happen again. H… have a nice journey."
He then grabbed the much younger guard, most likely a junior conscript, by his collar and dragged him into the guarding hut, forgetting to lift the boom for her. She was about to help herself to the boom, but there was no need. A third person lifted the boom and gestured for her to drive through. She gave him a smile as she drove past. The half-track followed through the boom amidst a serious and violently angry one-sided screaming reprimand emanating from the guard-hut. The man who lifted the boom jumped into the half-track.
"Wow. -- Who am I? -- How important am I?" she asked herself. She has discovered that her name was Michelle Alexandria Fiona van der Tremb’havøn. Her 'papers' were done on a typewriter but looked strange. Her name and surname filled out in Cyrillic. She giggled at the fact that her surname was too long to fit onto the A5-sized documentation, hence the abbreviation.
'Where am I? -- no, when am I?' was her next series of questions, as she now drove on what appeared to be a tarmac road with a recent snow clearing. A vehicle which looked like a Model T came the other way. That car appeared to be in good working order. A few minutes later, something that resembled the nineteen-thirties VW Beetle. That Beetle looked like it rolled off the show-room floor a few days ago. Both those drivers looked at her, and her modern car.
The road took her into a town. The townsfolk were looking at her, staring at her car. The townsfolk were dressed in thirties clothing. Some men bowed when she made eye-contact. The ladies curtseyed. One mother was seen telling something to her child as she drove past.
She reached a T-junction. She stopped for a decision, and the map attracted her attention. It has magically folded itself to the correct town. She easily identified her current position on the map. The map showed a castle a few kilometres away, it was quite worn out by multiple pinpricks. The map wanted her to go to the castle.
At the castle, she made her right turn onto a pristine unsurfaced road. The guards were ready for her and in position. Unlike the guard earlier, this one did recognise her. After a brief and warm greeting, he signalled to his colleague to lift the boom. Her intuition took over navigating the grounds.
She pulled up to the main entrance, a staff member approached the vehicle. He bowed as if she was some sort of royalty, and greeted her: "Welcome back, miss. I hope you had a wonderful excursion. I'll have the motorised wagon washed first thing in the morning." He then took the keys and smoothly drove the vehicle away.
"By the mud in your hair, you must have had a rough trip," commented an impeccably dressed lady in her late-thirties. Somehow, she appeared not to be Michelle's mother. Is she some sort of staff member perhaps? But why would she need staff?
"Oh yes, the trip was quite enjoyable," Michelle replied quite formally.
"Come, miss. Let's get you cleaned. Let's get you out of these soiled clothes," the lady instructed Michelle while whisking her away through the castle.
The pair travelled to the east wing. It appeared to be a self-contained unit, with a small kitchen, a few servants' quarters and a grand suite. It had a separate living and entertaining area. The main bedroom had an extremely large bed and en-suite bathroom. All the fittings were gold-plated.
"Who lives like this? This place is grand! Who am I? Who is she? Why the security?" questioned Michelle herself. By now, she would have forgotten all the earlier questions she posed herself.
The lady picked up Michelle’s confusion and asked her bluntly: "what is wrong, miss?"
"What do you mean?" confused Michelle responded.
"Your Highness, you are acting unusually strange tonight. Did something happen on your travels?" the lady asked.
"Your Highness?" Michelle frowned in confusion.
The lady curtseyed and apologised: "My apologies, miss. I know you don't like that title. It… it was a slip of the tongue. My apologies."
"I am a royal?" Michelle’s confusion grew to its peak.
The lady’s eyes opened up in horror. She gestured Michelle to sit in a lavish baroque chair. The lady then removed Michelle’s muddy hiking boots. She regained some of her composure and asked the question again: "Miss Michelle, what happen today?"
