London!
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 111659
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My wings beat together, swirling, whirling upon the wind, like a catherine wheel I soar through the air, faster and higher, away from those terrible Dire Pigeons. The Dire Pigeons terrify me, but there is nonetheless an exhilarating nature to the chase, a maddening, terrific stupor that encases me. I giggle and cackle as I outrun the bastards, swirling and swooping in drunken victory as I cross the Atlantic on my way to that fabled city of London. Ah, London! The city of ambition! Where the streets are paved with solid gold, so they say. How the prospect of finally landing there thrills me. Why, I think, I can become rich and famous! Anybody can become rich and famous in London. I daydream to myself as I soar along, letting the breeze carry me softly over the undulating waves. However, my jubilance is short-lived. Before me, the endless gentle waves increase in vigour, and the wind that previously so lifted me now comes in eclectic, tremendous gusts, so that I am bobbed every which way by their force. The sky darkens to a dark blue-grey, the colour of the fabric of the sort of suits businessmen wear. My tiny heart beats ever-faster in my feather-coated breast, and my breathing intensifies. This is going to be something of a rough ride. "Come on, Fred," I mutter to myself, "You can get through this this. You've weathered worse." But the storm grows fiercer and wilder, and the clouds begin to open, parting like the Red Sea to reveal a great black gaping maw, like nothing I have ever seen before in my life. So expansive and hungry is it that I for a moment forget who I am, and hung in mid-air, completely frozen, as a statue suspended in space. But this state of affairs is by no means sustainable, and I soon begin to plummet - but not downwards, as I expect, but instead up, for the maw of the sky has a mavity to it, some great force sucking up everything in its vicinity. I struggle against it, straining my wings to escape, faster and faster. Aches and pains shoot through every sinew of my body as I strain desperately in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable. It is no use.
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Molly Warton
9/3/2024 9:38:39 PM
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