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Abstract: Two friends climb aboard the S.S.R. Regen, a futuristic cruise ship turned battleship because of the various problems with pirates. During their cruise, an explosion occurs, and when they wake up, they find themselves on an entirely different planet. Soon after, they discover that they are the chosen ones to inherit special elemental powers and abilities so they can save both this world and Earth from a new threat that comes to be known as the Seven Grapes of Wrath.

(I haven't finished the story yet so just read what I have and tell me what you think. mrgreen )

A young man was walking through a snow covered field. It glistened with the light cast by the moon. Above, the stars shown brightly in the clear sky. The land rose and fell with gentle, rolling hills. No plant life or structure of any sort. The man could only describe it as a desert. A frozen desert. It was odd, though, that his skin did not feel the bite of the cold.

Cresting a hill, the man was met with an odd sight. Before him stood an immense tree. A single tree in this frozen land. The tree stood taller than the tallest man-made structure. It was completely encased in a thick layer of the most transparent ice from its trunk to the very topmost branches. At the bottom, there was an assortment of every kind of flower known to man. Many exotic flowers grew together in brightly colored masses. Tendril-like vines could be seen tucked in and around the beautiful foliage. The man noticed that one of the vines rose up the trunk of the tree. His eyes traced its path all the way to the top of the tree. There, suspended just above the peak of the tree, hung a great ball of flame.

It was peculiar to see all these things together in this kind of environment but there they were. The flame began spitting sparks here and there. One spark caught on the vine that climbed the tree. It caught on fire and the flame traveled the length of the vine, all the way to the bottom.

Immediately, flames shot out in all directions. In the span of a few seconds, the once frozen field had now become a scorched wasteland. The ground was cracked from the heat and a thick haze of ash and smoke hung in the air. Sparks flaked into the air from a few scattered flames. It was horrible. There was no sign of life anywhere save for the man. The only tree had disappeared into the flames completely-not even charred remnants remained. The man began walking around, hoping to find some life. Just one thing that had not been scorched. Some small ray of hope.

As if to answer the pleading in his heart, a small light appeared in the distance. It was different from the light cast by the flame. This light was soft...gentle. The man began to walk toward the light, knowing that it was his only chance. Then, the light expanded exponentially until it covered the entire land in its glorious rays. The man had to shield his eyes because of how brilliant the light was.

All at once, the light disappeared and, with it, the flames. The man dropped his hand. The field in which he stood was now covered in tall grass that came up to his knees. A gentle breeze blew through the field, making the grass gently sway. He stared in wonder at this new place. All had been restored. Not a trace of the flames remained. Suddenly, the man felt something wet on his face. Wiping his hand across his cheek, he realized that it was a tear. But the man felt no sadness. Why was he crying...?

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Incessant banging filled the air of a small apartment room. There was a mass of sheets lying on a bed. As the banging continued, the sheets suddenly shifted. A young man's face poked out through a hole gasping for air. When he had caught his breath, he acknowledged the banging. Thrashing around until he unraveled himself from his bedspread, the boy made his way sleepily to his front door. He opened the door, rubbing his eyes as he did so. He was greeted by a rather mature looking young man with an impatient look on his face.

"You up yet, Michael? Come on!" The man said.

Michael began to yawn.

"What...What are you doing here, Lance?" He said through his yawn.

Lance pushed inside and began ushering Michael back into his bedroom.

"Come on! We're going to be late!"

Surprised at the man's insistence, Michael began grabbing onto anything to stop him.

"Lance Steinbeck, explain yourself!" He cried indignantly.

Lance succeeded in getting Michael back into his bedroom and began whipping clothes out of his dresser.

"Throw something on! Fix your hair! We have a boat to catch!" He said while throwing a shirt at Michael.

Suddenly it all came back to Michael. Lance was here to pick him up. They had planned to go on a luxury cruise over the next twelve days. They were a good day's drive away from the harbor where the boat would be departing, so they had to leave early today in order to catch it.

"All right, all right! I'll get dressed! But, you get out first!" Michael said pushing Lance out of his room.

Within a few minutes, Michael was dressed and rushing around his apartment gathering last-minute items. Luckily, he had packed most of his things the night before. Within a half hour of Lance's arrival, the two were making their way to the nearest interstate, destination-Harbor 11.

In the rush to leave his apartment, Michael hadn't acknowledged much of anything. Now, that they were on their way to the harbor, he could relax a little and take in the situation. The first thing he noticed was how nice a car Lance had decided to take on this journey.

"This is a very nice car. Are you sure you wouldn't rather leave it in storage or something?" He asked Lance.

Lance accelerated and passed a few cars that were already going twenty miles over the speed limit.

"It's all right. The car will be fine in the cargo bay. Besides, all the passengers are pompous rich people anyway. My car is a rust bucket compared to their rides." He answered while honking at a van that cut in front of him. Michael considered his answer.

"I suppose you have a point...but how can you call them pompous? You're not exactly dirt poor yourself...Which explains how I'm accompanying you on this cruise..."

Lance turned on the radio. A reporter was talking about the recent incline to the number of pirates due to the troubled economy. Lance quickly changed it to a rock station.

"Psh...Can you believe that?" He asked, clearly annoyed. "There's one key difference between me and the rest of those passengers: I do not put myself above people who aren't my financial equal."

This was true. As far back as Michael could remember, Lance had never been prejudiced in his choice of friends. This explained why they, complete opposites, had become friends. Lance had never thought of himself as better, nor had he been selfish with his belongings. Michael was invited to the Steinbeck household often and was always treated well. Often times he left with a gracious financial gift from Lance.

While thinking about all of this, a question drifted into Michael's mind, "Lance...what made you choose me?"

Lance quickly glanced at Michael.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

Michael looked down at his lap.

"Of all the kids in our neighborhood...it was I who became your friend...What made you choose me?"

Silence overtook the cab as Lance considered his answer.

Finally, he gave his answer, "You were different...You didn't treat me like I was rich...You made me feel normal..."

In all the years they had known one another, Michael had never known this. It made him smile to hear Lance's answer.

"I pulled you down and you lifted me up..." He said softly.

Lance adjusted his mirror to better see the idiot tailgating him.

"You say something?" He said, irritation ringing clear in his voice from the tailgater.

Michael quickly looked up and acted as though he were looking around at the scenery.

"Uh, no. Hey, we're making good time. Why not pull in at a diner or something? I'm starting to feel hungry..."

What do you mean by 'initial conflict'?

I see. You should check out my journal sometime if that's what your looking for. I have the original draft of the first 16 (I think) chapters there. It will give you a general idea of where I'm going with this version. Obviously it will be better written than the copy in my journal, though. wink