“Dish washers.”


“—Give it up Labaguette!” the old woman says.

“Hold on to anything you can grab as soon as you can!” the Captain yells.  They look at him as he crawls and scrambles aimlessly, floating about, until he snatches a vertical rope extending from ceiling to floor.

As they reach for safer grounds and hold on to anything they can find, they feel the ship go up, caught in a vacuum of space and time; they hear screeching as the Insatiable Princess’ wood stretches and whines, as if expanding and contracting all at the same time.  The sound of wild waters roars past and crashes against the ship.  They listen intently to the extreme, strident whistling of the faceless world surrounding them.  They are in the middle of unstoppable and violent gales.  Surely this will end, the King hopes, surely we will be released and spat out of here even if it’s like a squeezed out pip.

Labaguette’s wings propel him in unexpected directions and with renewed vigour.  He feels larger, as if his wings had expanded.  He believes he has transformed into a bigger, more powerful and majestic bird, a colourful eagle with true heroic capabilities and skills.  Relieved, he propels himself into the air, showing off, until gravity returns in a second, as unpredictably as it had vanished and he flies straight into a wall, knocks himself unconscious and falls on the ceiling, which is now below them.

When they pick themselves up, bruised and exhausted, Captain Traumatic stands, holding the rope.

“It’s over,” he says calmly.  Then, he walks back up, climbs the stairs, opens the latch and looks outside.

To be continued…


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