In a land far far away…

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Creeaaaak!

*A short, plump figure pushes her way through a turquoise door, scratching herself on the brambles that had begun to grow up the around the archway*

Gosh, there does seem to be an awful lot of dust in here and that door could do with a little bit of grease. I’ll have to see if I can find some of my bubble magic to help sort it out.

*The figure starts to walk gingerly across the room until…*

Achooooooooooooooo!!!!!

*She sneezes dramatically (she has a dust allergy, the poor mite), lurching forward. As her eye level drops dramatically she notices something on the floor*

What’s this? A quill?

*Surprisingly enough, it is a long, feathery affair. It sways precariously, as she holds it up to see nib. The nibs not the thing worth looking at though. The feather is astonishing; an iridescent ray of pinks, purples, blues and greens.*

Amazing. It fits perfectly in my hand.

*She stands confused. Memories are coming back to her slowly. She wants to see the quill more clearly so she wanders towards the windows. They are round and set back from the wall. There is a little seat in one, with a cushion and a few discarded books.

Eugh! These windows are so disgustingly filthy. It’s so annoying I can’t see it out of the window properly.

*She wipes a shirt cuff on the window. It comes back black. But she can make out the rolling hills, the pink sky, the candyfloss clouds and lollipop trees of the beyond. Her heart begins to beat louder and faster. Her breath catches in her throat.*

Can it really be…? It looks so familiar. Just like one of the worlds from my imagination.

*She turns around. Dazed. And there it is. Her desk. She can’t understand how she missed it before. Its big and white. There is a design on the table legs which twist upwards in a complex and never ending patter. She is home.*

My desk. Ah, my lovely desk. I have missed you.

*She rushes forward, pulls out the neatly tucked in chair and half sits, half falls into it. She looks at her desk and bursts out laughing.*

As if I ever thought I could desert your dear book. Dear, scary white paper. Well, you’ve caught me up again now.

*She holds up the quill, dips it into the ink (which of course was sitting right where she needed it and begins to write….*

 

And hopefully won’t stop again soon. I’ve missed you blogland.

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