The World Of Sweet Twilight

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 40 (v.1) - Flower Power

Submitted: August 14, 2019

Reads: 17

Comments: 1

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Submitted: August 14, 2019



Flower Power

It’s not going to make the slightest difference though, is it? I can try for as long as I want to slow my way forward but that momentum is going to keep on pushing. The most I can expect to achieve is exhaustion.

They are on our side though; at least I think they are. In front of us is a puppet, strings entangled to pull his arms up high and keep them there. This is not just any puppet though, not one that has been making the trek with us.

For a start the face is undeniably male. And then there is the mask that has not yet hit the ground. White and beaked with large eye-holes, it seems to be ringing some bells in my memory. There’s a cap floating down to the ground too. This is very different to all the hats we have so far come across, looking like it is part of a uniform.

A palace guard?” I’d not meant to say the words aloud, they just sort of slipped their way out of my mouth and into the air.

The puppet turns and fixes me with a pair of hostile eyes. He’s heard me, obviously.

Michael has too, for he turns his head towards me, says in a quieter voice than I’d used: “Yeah, I think you’re right, Hull.”

No opportunity to pause, which I am relieved about. I want to be away from him, just in case those strings unravel or even snap. I would honestly not be surprised if he could not move perfectly well without them.

We are not heading in to the palace itself, but our feet are taking us around it, to the side and on towards the back. Suddenly the momentum just...stops! So suddenly that I would have fallen backwards had Michael not grabbed on to my arm while taking a well-placed backward step. My head swam for a minute, but then my eyes cleared and I looked around.

We were in a garden of some sort. There was no sign of the horse with its riders in spite of it having been in front of us just a moment before. Sue and Adrian stand beside us, but otherwise we are alone.

No, that’s not right. There’s a woman standing beside some of the biggest flowers that I have ever seen. It’s not that they are exceptionally tall; many sunflowers would dwarf them. But the blooms themselves are huge orange circles. They seem to grow from stems so thin it’s a miracle that they can support the weight.

The woman is very thin; her hair is long, reaching down to below her waist, and the shade of it almost matches that of the petals. Around her head she wears a crown of much more familiar sized blooms of pink and white. Her top is a dusky pink, quite dark with long flared sleeves. She has another white flower pinned to this. Then her pants are extraordinarily flared, but then they would have to be to fit those giant flower patterns below her knees.

What’s she holding?” whispers Sue.

It looks like a giant paintbrush, but it also looks like one of those wand things too. She’s noticed us, is looking directly at us now, and as she does I can see both my ideas were right. The wand had splintered out into hundreds of bristles which are now once again solidifying. It makes a formidable weapon; whether it is in any way magical she could always use it to hit us. It looks strong enough to be very painful.

Should we approach her? As I ponder over the solution to that problem, my feet begin to walk yet again. The momentum is back. It’s strong, undeniable, but it is not making us move fast.

The woman watches us, a look of concern quite evident on her face. She is, I realize, quite possibly the queen. A throne like chair created from sticks, stands on the grass not far from her. There are flowers on it, and a mouse? No, I’m wrong; it is a rat. It watches us from beady eyes until we are no longer in view.

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