She paused by the tree to warm her freezing hands. It was getting more and more difficult to concentrate. She despised being lost, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. She rummaged in her bag, hoping against hope to find something edible left in it, but knowing that she'd eaten the last Tic-Tac an hour ago. Sighing, she started again toward the setting sun, praying that she would find civilization before she froze to death.
The man strapped on his parachute,
and stepped up to the door.
He listened for the pilot's toot,
then, as in days of yore,
He stepped out of the airplane's side
and started down the sky,
Did dips and turns with diver's pride
You should have seen him fly!
He landed near a boiler
and looked about the room.
On top there was a broiler
brandishing a broom.
"You know, it is the principle,"
the broiler boldly said,
"and since I know the principal
it must be true you're dead."
The man, confused, closed his eyes
and shook his dazzled brain.
He opened them to seven pies
and waving fields of grain.
He then, with generosity
gave to a nearby cat
(one full of curiosity)
the pie ('twas made of rat).
This dream began, you may recall,
in quite a normal way,
a simple jump and then a fall -
it seemed like normal play
But when he stepped into the mill
and found him ground to flour
He woke up feeling very ill,
so went and took a shower.
It was a run-of-the-mill boiler repair, he recalled. He had been pleased
with the customer's generosity, but had to refuse the extra money - it
was the principle of the thing. His attention returned to the present
when his parachute opened, and he concentrated on landing safely.
As you may recall, he had thought he was on his way home. He was rather
unnerved by the fact that things were not as they seemed.
He stood and walked around the walls, feeling carefully for anything
unusual. Sure enough, about halfway around, he found a crack in the wall
- a regular, door-like crack. He carefully searched for a hidden catch,
and finally was able to find it. The door came ajar, and he slipped
through it.
He found himself in a boiler room. The humidity in the room was
oppressive. He went down two or three steps and walked across the
cluttered room, threading his way between equipment and boxes and parts
and other things that were apparently being stored there.
It wasn't the changing reality, in particular, that bothered him. It was
the principle of the thing. If something *was*, it ought to *be*, he
thought. It only made sense!
He went up two or three steps on the opposite end of the room, and
paused at the door there. Bracing himself, he pushed the door open and
stepped through.
He looked down from the top of a windmill.
He shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment, but when he reopened
them, he was still in the same place. He briefly wished he had a
parachute, so he could just jump down, but realizing the futility of
that line of thought, he looked around for another way down.
At least, he thought, I have plenty of ammunition, thanks to
the "generosity" of my superior officers. He checked his weapon,
relieved to find that it hadn't changed in any way.
He spotted a rope off to the side. When he tossed one end over the edge
of the mill roof, he found that it was actually a rope ladder. He
started down.
WEEK ENDING 7/30
sugar, astonish, fluffy, movies, sketch, old
WEEK ENDING 8/6
exercise, table, clip, speckled, gust, green
He was astonished when the counter stayed the same, but the entire
scenery behind it changed. It was no longer an airport ticket counter,
but now it was a movie theater, with old posters on the walls and fluffy
plush toys in the case waiting for some child to beg to take them home.
He shook his head, blinking, and stood there for a moment trying to get
his bearings, when someone behind him gave him a shove. "Hey, buddy, you
gonna stand there all day?"
He stepped aside, allowing the man and his children - whose faces were
sticky with sugary snacks - to go ahead of him. He walked toward the far
corner, where someone was sitting with a sketch pad, drawing the area
around them. He maneuvered around behind and looked at the sketch, which
showed the airport he thought he'd entered.
Bewildered, he backed against the wall, which thankfully seemed real
enough. He eased to his left along it, feeling slightly green. This
whole situation was making him sick to his stomach.
He paused when he felt a gust of wind. He ran his hand along the
solid-appearing wall, but found that it ended after a foot or so.
Glancing around, he slipped a clip out of his belt and into his sidearm.
Feeling oddly glad for the exercise, he rolled around the corner, his
gun ready.
His shins painfully barked the coffee table that was there. Rubbing
them, he looked around at the mostly empty room. The walls were dark,
with phosphorescent paint speckled about, as if imitating a
conservatory. There seemed to be only the one way in. No windows, no
other doors, broke the monotony of the dark walls. He sank down on the
table, considering what to do next.
He slipped through the night, from one shadow to the next, trying to escape the enemy's ever-present eye. He was very glad to be off the ladder, but knew he was far from safe.
He paused in a doorway, catching his breath. He thought he would much rather be in some quiet office job, typing and filing, than running for his life yet again! But his mind immediately berated him for his inconsistency, and he knew that he loved his job, regardless.
He moved on through the city, hiding in doorways: first a grocery, then a shoe store, here a luggage shop, there a hat shop.
He finally reached the airport. He felt in his pocket for the locker key, and, finding it, opened the locker and pulled out his meager luggage.
Now to get a ticket. He desperately wished he could get a ticket HOME, but knew it was impossible, until his mission was complete. He looked at the flights getting ready to depart, and finally settled on the one that was going to be landing not too far away, so he could double back when they weren't expecting him.
He approached the ticket counter.
An unfriendly voice emanated from behind the desk. "What are you doing in my office?"
He edged toward the door, and flipped on the light before answering. He was relieved to see that the desk was manned by a human. "Hiding from the enemy, Sir," he replied. "Is there another way out of here?"
"Well." The man's disapproving look was starting to be a bit disconcerting. "You *could* jump out the window, but the traffic might get all snarled up by a dead body in the road." His face wrinkled at the thought. "I suppose, since you're desperate, I can let you use my rope ladder. I guess."
The man stood up slowly, opened the window, and dropped the ladder out. He stepped to one side, hovering possessively. "Well, go on."
He nodded and stepped out onto the ladder. Glancing down, he saw that he was about fifteen stories up. He closed his eyes for a moment to squelch the dizziness, and started down.