the fall of acre

i don't really know what this is. i was just writing whatever i thought of because i was bored, and somehow i got a story out of it.

right now is feist and the white stripes and armor for sleep, a visit to simpler, more satisfying times. i'd like to visit then, back when rooves were brush and worlds consisted of stone and grass, and lie in the meadows and let out a boisterous laugh. the clouds would beckon and sing, "sarra, come up here!"
"but i don't know how, simon."
"just force yourself to believe. how do you think people are convinced so easily?" so i grab the balloon string and schweeng up to the clouds. i put my foot on one and am surprised to stay afloat. simon has dark hair and wears glasses. at the time i did not know that they were magic. another balloon floated up to join the rest. "so that's where they all go."
"well yeah," he replied."they get awfully lonely. this s the only place where vendors can't tear them apart." the balloons look so calm in the filtered sunlight. i wonder if they will ever fall in love. the nestle into place whenever they are joined by a new stray, lke how they would under a ceiling. however, ceilings do not exist here.  i hold on to that thought so i can chew it over in a week or so.
"it's too quiet." i remark. simon hands over the glasses. "they're magic. they'll take you anywhere. i'll stay here."
"how could i leave you? i'm your guest. you're coming wth me, and i know you want to." simon grins. i hope he won't blush. blushing is one of the worst curses inflicted on us young people. "well," he replies, "where do you want to go?" we hold the glasses in a way so that i touch one arm and he has the other. i won't admit to simon that i like the glasses best, i decide. that might be too predictable. "saturn." the word dreamily excapes from my conciousness. ever since i learned about the planets, saturn, the prettiest, has been one of my favorites. we fly again, we also talk again. "this should be fascinatng," simon tells me, "it's only 1492, saturn hasn't even been discovered yet." when  hear the number 1492 i think about the fall of acre. i don't even know why. i become very tempted to discuss the crusades' role in european development.  i had inherited so much from my dad. "well, we should write ourselves in the history books, now that we're discovering saturn."
"they wouldn't believe us, we're philosophers, and we're from the future. they'll think that we're heretics or something." i can't believe how easy t is to breathe in the stratosphere. "it's the glasses. when i went to pluto for the first time, i was shocked that i could breathe. then i realized that it was the magic." simon seems to know so much about me. i don't know how to feel about that.
"you know what, simon? all year long, people complained about having to take history. they say, why does it matter? it was a thousand years ago. i disagree. history has shaped who we are. imagine where we would be if we had taken a different path. and not just on a universal scale, but on a personal scale as well. what if i had cut myself? imagne how emotionally scarred i would be. i might have marks all over my arms by now. but i didn't. that's part of my course of history." will my opinions ever change anything? i hope so. it gets darker, and  decide that simon's glasses are pretty fast. and then it's there: a phenomenal glow. the color of jubilance, the color of life. suddenly i notice everything. the air- or what is it?- has a rich blue concentraton, gently thrown off by starlight. i see so many shadows in this dark place, and i'm scared, for some reason. the heavenly bodes are like baubles resting on spotted silk. i have to remnd myself to hold onto simon's glasses, lest i fall away and die rght there. i'm jealous of simon, the veteran. i secretly hope that i am one of the few who knows the glasses' power, with the part of my soul that hopes a good band i dscovered before everyone else won't go mainstream and sell out. i'm too amazed to feel selfsh, though. i consider myself very lucky at that moment: somehow i know that not all of simon's friends get to go to saturn, let alone most people. could i be the only don't usually want to go out here though. they'll ask for something temporarily impressionable. not you, though."
"heh, i guess not." for some reason i'm relieved. i'm happy to be away from pressure, from gravity, and just floatone? i ask him.
"no," he says, "i usually go to space by myself. i knew you'd like saturn, though, it really is beautiful. people  among the stars. there's no pressure, like i've always wanted. we're there when i regain focus. saturn is so beautiful that  cannot speak; my mouth does hang in silence, however. all of the warmth and happiness i've ever felt in my life rushes through my body. here, there is no lonliness, no outrage, no sorrow. there is only radiance, there are no tears. there are not even any smiles because your mouth is open so wide. your eyes are so still and alive at the same time. glory and wonder become redefined.
i glance over at simon. he isn't blushing, just as our history intended.

Author's Note

i think i summed this up too quickly. do you agree?
also, i have since realized that the fall of acre was actually in 1291, but i didn't change the year of the story because i wanted it to be 1492, and i've always associated that year with the fall of acre.