Star Wars belongs to George Lucas and … whoever else filmed it. x_x’
Nine year-old Anakin stumbled over a large sand dune. He was supposed to be at home with his mother but he had seen something out here. Someone… There!
"Hello? Miss?" he asked, suddenly uncertain. She looked so sad that he didn’t want to disturb her.
"Hello." She turned and smiled at him. She looked like a native Tatooine – blond hair and tanned skin – but she wasn’t. He was sure of it. She wasn’t from around here at all. "You must be Anakin."
"Yes," he nodded slowly. How did she know his name?
Who was she?
She crouched down in front of him so that they were eye to eye. He tried to back away but she was suddenly holding his hands. Her grip was strong and he couldn’t break it.
"I’m going to try and tell you something very important, okay Anakin?" she said but didn’t really ask.
"Okay," he said, wishing he hadn’t come out here after all.
"You want to be a Jedi, don’t you?"
He nodded. "Sure." Subtly he twisted his hands to try and escape her grip.
"It’s very hard being a Chosen One," she said, eyes taking on a faraway gleam. "But if it’s not us it will be someone else. So we need to be strong, so that it doesn’t have
to be anybody else."
"Okay," he said, just to get away.
"Good boy." She released his hands and he scrambled away. When he turned around she was gone, leaving only swirling sand behind.