Come with me to my land down under. No, not that one, a different one… a land where rocks and roots replace the sky. A place where rivers flow both beneath and above… where sunlight doesn’t shine and shade is everywhere… where strange creatures glow in the dark as they hop or fly or swim, twinkling like the stars in the night sky. The rivers from above drip down like a thick muddy rain, and cause the rivers below to flow.
It’s very hard to leave this place once here, unless you know the way. Unfortunately, I don’t… do you?
The high street was packed: all sorts of people wearing long coats, thick-rimmed glasses, and hats. The street was full, but the shops were empty. Suddenly, a terrified cry for help was heard from one of the rooftops. The people on the street looked around, and then dashed into doorways, telephone boxes, cars and alleyways. Within a second, the street was empty. A second later, after several explosions, incantations and lightning bolts, the street was once again full, this time with people wearing brightly coloured clothes, some wearing capes and others masks. Luckily, the super hero convention was in town.
“Ahoy me hearties!” bellowed the actor on the deck of the Sulphur Sark. Holding a steel blade aloft he started to swing it around in a figure of eight fashion. He was alone, and knew he wouldn’t cause any damage if he came on board to rehearse.
“Shiver me timbers!” he continued, although now he had the feeling he was being watched. He looked around and saw nobody there, so carried on.
He heard a ghostly voice behind him, and turned quickly, just as the Jolly Roger wrapped itself around him. “Shiver me timbers!” was the last thing he heard.
Elbert Clack was a strange man. Very tall, with a thin frame, extremely pale skin and a long, pointed nose. He had a small chin, deep-set eyes and high forehead, which gave him an even more odd appearance. Jet black spiky hair topped off his novel look, not that anyone would notice.
Dressed all in black, he pulled on a black balaclava and then fed his long, spindly-fingered hands into a pair of black leather gloves. He then put on a helmet and headed to the top of the track and waited to start.
The Persian purred loudly as she was being gently massaged by her owner.
“This is the life” she thought to herself “all I need to do is sit here and purr, and do nothing else. I get fed and watered, looked after, kept warm, and have the run of the house.” She settled herself down. Once again, she purred.
“Much better than last time; Yes, I had all of those people at my command, and owned all of those luxurious clothes and jewels, pyramids and sands, but that was a hard life. Being queen never gave me any me time.”