Unravelling The Red Thread: Bedtime Tale

This is a bedtime story about an elderly lady receiving a postcard from a friend. She reads that postcard as the story unfolds about a woman travelling around the world in search of the strange and mysterious. She is on a train that passes through a mountain tunnel, but exits in a different reality. She finds her way to a magical door in the ancient ruins of a city in the woods.

The other side of that magical door is a meadow with a parrot and an orange dinosaur. They guide her to the coastline, where she gets help from a Humpback whale. She continues and finds a town, where a cardinal in a purple cloak makes her a warm coat, before she heads to the glass mountains, meets a fairy who tells her how to change the reality around the train, before finding her way back to the train and continuing her journey.

After reading the postcard, the elderly lady heads to bed and drifts peacefully asleep into Slumberland.

Transcript

So just take a moment to allow your eyes to close and allow yourself to begin to relax and as you begin to comfortably fall asleep.

I'm just going to tell this story in the background and I don't know whether you'll drift asleep faster to the sound of my voice or whether it'll be to the spaces between my words.

And as you comfortably fall asleep,

An elderly lady is sat at home with her red slippers on in the most comfortable chair in front of the fireplace.

And beside her she has a warm cup of tea and she picks up a postcard which has arrived that morning.

And she dunks a biscuit in the tea.

As a bite of that biscuit picks up that postcard,

Dunks the second half of the biscuit in the tea,

Finishes off that biscuit and then gently sits back into the chair,

Listening to the crackling fire in the fireplace,

The gentle distant hum of the wind outside,

And the silence of the room while she starts to read.

And as she reads the back of this postcard,

She learns that it's about the adventures of one of her friends who went traveling many years ago and has been nomadic,

Traveling from country to country,

Going in search of mysteries,

The magical and the mysterious.

And she really enjoys receiving these postcards.

And sitting down and taking time to read the latest adventures since the last card arrived.

And on the front of the card is just a smiling hippopotamus in a river.

And that smiling hippopotamus on the card has some googly eyes stuck onto it,

And some balloons as if the balloons are trying to lift the hippopotamus from the water.

And so she starts to read that card.

And as she reads,

She almost finds herself drifting into her mind,

Like the story on the postcard plays out in her mind as if she's actually there,

Following the adventures of her friend.

And the card describes how the friend was traveling on a train across an unknown country,

And she was unsure of this environment.

She knew where the train started,

She knew where the final stop for the train is supposed to be.

But the train had passed through a tunnel in a vast mountain.

And as it passed through that tunnel,

Everything went dark.

And all the passengers were aware of was the clickety-clack of the train on the track,

The sound of the wind thundering past the windows,

The rocking of the train as it traveled,

The very faint light off in the distance of the end of the tunnel.

But when it came out the other side,

The landscape was very different to what was expected.

The train driver even announced that something strange seems to have happened,

But the track is still there so they continue traveling,

With the idea that they'll stop at the next station.

And at the next station,

They pull in,

And it was a quaint station.

The platform was just wooden beams on the ground.

The sun was shining overhead,

So comfortably and warm.

There were sounds of birds and other animals reverberating through the woodland around the station.

But none of it sounded familiar.

And the passengers disembarked,

Trundling up and down the boards of the train station.

And there was no one here on this train station.

It was completely closed,

There was no staff,

No other passengers,

No one looking to board the train.

And heading away from this train station was just a dirt track.

And one of the passengers had got out their mobile phone.

They tried to make a phone call.

Then they tried to hold the phone up in the air,

Even standing on tiptoes and stretching their arm up as high as they could.

As if that would make a difference.

And then there was the murmur of conversations,

Of people asking each other whether anyone could get a phone signal,

And everyone saying their phones weren't working.

And the driver recommended everyone just sits down at the station,

While they work out where they are and find a way to communicate with others.

Or perhaps they'll have to continue along the track and see where it takes them.

And at worst,

Travel back the way they came.

It would be much slower because unless there's a siding,

They'd have to reverse the train back along the track.

But they are the only train expected on the track until the next day.

And so this woman decided to go for a little walk.

She said she's just going to stretch her legs,

Get some fresh air,

As nobody's going anywhere.

And so she wandered away from the station,

Following that dirt track.

And as she walked along that dirt track,

Weaving gently into the woodland,

Hearing the rustling trees,

The crunching of each step on the undergrowth,

The sounds of birds singing,

She felt a deep sense of peace and calm.

And she found herself just gazing around.

And while she gazed around,

Following this path through the woodland,

She thought she caught the sight of some color in the distance.

But this color in the distance didn't seem like a typical woodland color.

It was bright red,

And it was bobbing gently up and down,

And occasionally catching a bit of sunlight.

And as she continued towards that bobbing up and down color,

She recognized that it was a balloon,

And then getting closer,

Saw that it was a massive collection of balloons being held with red string.

And at the foot of the string was a small porcupine,

Standing up on its back legs with a little money pouch around its waist.

And it offered her a balloon,

Taking one of those balloons,

Holding it out before her.

And it was talking in an unusual,

Posh British accent,

Which took her by surprise.

But it had the friendliest of smiles,

And it was very charming.

And the string between the balloon and the porcupine was very long,

Giving plenty of distance to make sure none of the balloons came too close.

And she asked the porcupine where they are and what they're doing,

And they said they're here selling balloons.

And she asked where here is,

And they explained that this is nowhere in particular,

Just somewhere to be.

It's somewhere that occasionally people go for a change of perspective,

And you'll find your way back when the time is right.

But now the right time is to explore,

But it'd be great if you took a balloon with you.

And so the woman handed over a coin for a balloon,

Was given a red balloon,

And continued walking that path,

Deeper into the woodland.

Enjoying the sight of the beams of light dancing before her as the leaves rustled overhead.

And within those beams of light were tiny dancing stars,

Shimmering and sparkling.

And she wound that balloon down a little bit closer to her hand to stop it catching on any trees as she passed.

And she crunched her way through the undergrowth,

Until in the distance she saw a small cabin,

And with curiosity felt perhaps someone will be there.

Maybe they'll have a telephone.

Maybe they can be more help than the porcupine.

And so she walked towards that cabin.

And she was still not too far from the train.

She knew that if the train started,

She would hear it.

But she obviously hoped that they had no plans on moving just yet.

And she went to that cabin,

Knocked gently on the door of the cabin.

A bolt clicked and the door opened slowly.

And she put her biggest smile on and said that her and a number of other passengers and the crew of a train have stopped at the nearby station.

But they don't know where here is.

They don't know where they're going from here and whether the only way back is to reverse the train the way they came.

And the shadowy figure that answered the door stepped out of the shadows and into the light.

And as they did,

She noticed they're a hippo with such smooth skin and a massive grin and wide eyes,

Almost looking surprised.

And with the most cheerful voice,

They invited her in.

And so she made sure the balloon was tied up outside and followed that hippo into their cabin.

And the hippo said that they think they know a way of helping.

But the way to help is to go through to their library out the back as they walked through the cabin,

Past a gently crackling fire,

Past the coziest looking chairs,

Across some creaky floorboards,

Over some dusty rugs,

And through a door at the back of the room,

Which opened out into what seemed almost like a vast chamber of books.

And the hippo walked into this room,

Scoured the shelves of books,

And some of the books were humming,

Some of the books were tinkling,

Some of the books gave a low rumble.

Some books seemed to have different light emanating from them,

And others looked like they were surrounded in stardust,

Twinkling and fizzing around the spine of the book.

And he went over to one of the books with stardust sparkling around it.

He took it from the shelf,

Took it over to a table where he had some cushions placed for holding books,

And he rested that book down,

Carefully opened it up,

And very slowly and deliberately turned his way through those pages,

Mumbling to himself,

As if reading the unreadable font on those pages.

And then he made a noise,

Like he'd found what he was looking for,

Turned over a number of pages at once to get to a specific page,

And tucked within that page was a map,

And he took that map and put it aside,

And then he read that page in a language the woman couldn't understand,

And then turned to the woman,

And said that the way to get back is to go forward,

You'll need to travel deeper through the woods,

Onto the river,

And then beyond,

And as you travel,

So you'll encounter some characters on the way who can help,

But that's the way to find your way back out of here.

He explained how what happens here is that around the mountains is a giant zone which crosses dimensions,

And so sometimes the dimensions merge as they very slowly rotate,

But the whole time they're rotating,

Nothing happens,

Because they can only be in one position or another,

They can't be between positions,

And so they rotate and there's no change,

And then suddenly they align,

And then they rotate again and there's no change,

But you can make them align so that you'll be back on the right track,

But you need to go on this journey to do that,

You need to go on a journey to the glass mountain,

And the hippo handed the woman the map,

Said this is an atlas of the land,

You'll need to follow this,

The path to take will light up on the paper of the map,

And she looked at the parchment and she saw an oily looking light pulsing to life,

He then went to a drawer and opened that drawer,

And he pushed his hands through the drawer,

Moving things around,

Almost leaning entirely into the drawer as if searching for something specific,

Nearly falling into the drawer with how far he was leaning,

Then he pulled out a ball of string,

Just a very very small ball of string,

And he said take that with you,

And use that ball of string as you journey,

Tie it to somewhere near the beginning of your journey,

And let it just unravel as you walk,

And then you can follow that string back the way you came,

But the woman felt the string wouldn't be long enough,

And he explained it's a magical ball of string,

It may look short,

But it's unending,

It'll unravel as long as you want it to unravel,

And so the woman thanked the hippo,

Headed back towards that train,

Shared her learning with those back by the train,

And some were sceptical,

But there was enough consensus,

With the idea of her going searching for a solution to get home,

And so she tied the string to one of the train carriages,

And began to walk,

And she opened out that parchment,

She began to follow the path on the map,

Initially walking back just the way she'd come,

Back through that woodland,

But she walked straight past the hippo's house,

And continued walking,

Seeing that there's a river on the map,

And that the path heads straight to the river,

And as she walked she could see the leaves,

And the different shades of green,

And how some of those leaves appeared waxy,

And the different types of bark on the trees,

Occasionally just reaching out,

And touching that bark with her fingertips,

Feeling the rough bark of some of the thicker trees,

The flaky bark of other trees,

And some trees seem to have the outside,

With streams of sap running down them,

That would catch on her fingertips,

Making her fingertips sticky,

And the more she rubbed her fingertips together,

The stickier and stickier they became,

And so she was walking along now with one hand,

Her fingertips spread,

Not touching anything with that hand,

Looking forward to getting to the river,

To be able to wash off her fingertips,

And she could hear the distant sound,

Of the flowing water,

Of that river,

And she could see that this woodland,

Was opening out into a clearing,

Like a beautiful meadow of wildflowers,

Tall grass,

Butterflies and bees,

And unknown insects darting from plant to plant,

Almost like the perfect picture for a postcard,

And so she headed through this meadow,

Could hear the rustling grass,

As the wind gently blew through this meadow,

Could feel the warmth of that sun on her face,

And began to smell the freshness of the water,

While approaching that river,

And at the river she crouched down,

And washed off her fingers,

And after washing off her fingers,

And looking back at the map,

She was aware that she had to follow this river for a little way,

And there'd be a bridge to cross to the other side,

And so she walked along the side of this river,

Seeing fish seemingly swimming on the spot,

In the water against the current,

The bubbling of some of the water,

Around occasional rocks jutting out of that water,

The fresh smell of this water,

The occasional slight bit of spray,

Managing to tickle her cheeks,

And while walking along the side of the river,

She could see the stone bridge in the distance,

Just a quaint little stone bridge,

And so she walked down to that bridge,

And crossing that bridge as she arrived at it,

There was an alpaca with a backpack on its back,

And it greeted her,

Afternoon,

And just carried on its journey,

Walking on its back two legs,

Using its front two legs,

Hooked within the straps of the backpack,

As if holding that backpack on its back,

With its neck towering above that backpack,

And almost waving like the grass,

With each step that it took,

And she found while walking up onto the bridge,

Her eyes continued to follow that alpaca,

As it was in its own world,

Walking off,

Away from the bridge,

As if it's just the most normal sight in the world,

And halfway across the bridge,

She turned her eyes back to where she was going,

Continued crossing that bridge,

Following the path down the other side,

And as she followed that path,

Eventually she saw some more animals,

A little family of otters,

Just pottering about in the grass by the river,

And one of the otters jumps into the water,

Swimming on its back,

Twisting itself in the water and diving down,

Popping back up again to the surface,

Splashing around,

With something it had caught heading back to the shore,

And then another otter,

Seemed to be waving its limbs around,

And as it was,

So a ball of light seemed to be forming between its limbs,

Fizzing,

Popping,

Condensing,

Crackling and sparkling,

And then what looked almost like lightning or electricity,

Pulsing from that ball of light,

And then stretching its limbs out,

So that ball of light,

Turned into a stream of light,

And cooked whatever had just been caught,

And then they sat down,

And were eating that food,

And then one of the otters,

Asked for something,

And that same otter,

Gave a gesture,

And seemed to almost make something levitate,

And move over to them,

And the woman continued walking,

Past these otters,

Following the path,

As laid out on that map,

Still holding that ball of string,

Which is unwinding gently,

Behind them,

Catching on different things during the journey,

Continuing on,

Until the path turns off from the river,

And heads into the woodland,

On this side of the river,

And she walks deeper and deeper,

Into the woodland on this side of the river,

The sound of the river,

Fading into the background,

Continuing to follow,

That path on the map,

And as she follows the path on the map,

So this path,

Starts to become more rugged,

She finds she's having to step over things,

And work around things,

And realize,

That this is the ruins,

Of perhaps an old town,

That she's now passing through,

That's been overgrown by the woodland,

And she continues following this path,

Through these ruins,

Slowed down with her walking,

Because of the ruins,

And then finds herself,

At a wall covered in ivy,

Overgrown with roots,

With trees almost growing out of the wall,

Around the wall,

And yet,

This wall blocking the path,

Is still managing to stand,

Despite all this growth surrounding it,

And she puts her hand on the ivy,

And pushes around on that ivy,

To see if the wall is solid,

All the way along in front of her,

As there is a path,

Going right to this point,

And it shows the path continuing here,

And she notices there's a slight indentation,

In front of her,

It seems the ivy has grown over a doorway,

And so she rips that ivy away,

From in front of her,

Revealing,

A sturdy wooden door,

That seems to have not rotted,

And she pushes on that door,

And surprisingly,

The door opens,

And she was expecting the other side,

Would probably be as covered in ivy,

And entwined as this side,

And she was expecting to have to push hard,

But as she pushed,

It just opened reasonably easily,

But as she saw what was the other side of the door,

She was surprised to see it wasn't woodland,

It was a vast open landscape of undulating hills,

Of dense meadows,

Wildflowers,

Large birds flying in the sky,

And an orange dinosaur,

Wearing ruby red slippers,

And a glittery scarf,

Munching on the grass,

Which looked up in surprise,

At the sight,

Of this woman suddenly appearing there through the door,

And a parrot,

Wearing a bow tie,

Dressed in a penguin suit,

And the smartest of shoes,

Landed beside her,

And asked her,

Who she was and where she came from,

And she explained her predicament,

And they said that,

She had startled them by suddenly appearing here,

They haven't seen anyone come through that door,

For a very,

Very long time,

They're always watching out,

For people,

Seeing if anyone will appear,

But it's been generations,

Since that door has been used,

And she explained about her map,

And that the path leads right through here,

To something called the glass mountains,

And they said she's definitely on the right track,

But perhaps to get there,

She could do with a change of clothes,

And so she,

Was directed to head through the meadow,

And she saw,

That through the meadow,

Over the undulating hills,

They end at a cliff,

And she was told,

That at the end,

Where the cliff is,

Is the ocean,

And she should head to that ocean,

And at the ocean,

She'll find her way,

To be able to get a change of clothes,

To help her on her journey,

And so she heads away,

From that parrot and the dinosaur,

Which is back munching the grass again,

And as she walks away,

So the earth vibrates,

With the steps of the dinosaur,

And that string continues to follow her,

As she pulls it across the meadow,

Heads over those hills,

And weaves her way,

Down to the ocean,

And down at the ocean,

She can see,

There's a drop from the cliff,

To the sea,

And she looks around for a way down,

And she wonders about the strength,

Of that ball of string,

And near the edge of the cliff,

There's a large tree,

Looks like it's been there,

Almost for an eternity,

And this tree seems unusual,

The leaves seem to be vibrating,

And pulsing with color,

Pulsing out,

Beams of white light,

Illuminating the landscape,

And out to sea,

Almost as if nature,

Has devised its own lighthouse,

And she wraps that thread around,

The tree,

She loops it around itself,

And then trusts,

That magical string,

And heads to the edge,

And she pulls a number of times on the string,

To test its strength,

She then weaves that string,

Around herself,

Between her legs,

Around to her hands,

And then slowly,

With one hand in front of her,

Holding the string carefully,

And the other hand,

Holding the bundle of string,

Behind her,

She lowers herself,

Back,

Over the edge of the cliff,

Her legs braced,

Knees slightly bent,

Keeping that pose,

While she lets the string lower,

Bit by bit,

Until she's side on to the cliff,

And then carefully,

Releases the string,

As she walks,

Down the side of the cliff,

The sound of the ocean below,

Increasing in volume,

The closer she gets,

And she walks down the side of the cliff,

To the bottom of the cliff,

Unwraps that string,

Leaves it where it is,

Looks around,

Trying to figure out,

What she's supposed to find,

Down here,

And as she looks around,

She sees what looks like a humpback whale,

Breach out of the ocean,

Flip in the air,

And splash down into the water,

In a cloud of spray,

Rainbows forming in the sunlight,

As the water disperses,

And then it swims over,

Nearer to the shore,

And near the shore,

It pokes its head,

Out the water,

And it begins,

To talk to the woman,

And she explains,

Why she's here,

And what she's doing,

And that she's been told,

To come here,

To know where to go next,

To be able to get,

Some clothing,

That'll help her on her journey,

And the sperm whale,

Flicks out,

What look like playing cards,

To the woman,

And they land on the shore,

And he tells her to,

Take the cards out the pack,

Shuffle them up,

And then place,

Some cards before you,

And she opens the pack,

And notices,

That each playing card,

Is made with a plankton,

And she takes those plankton playing cards,

Shuffles them up,

Deals out before her,

Four cards,

And she turns those cards over,

One by one,

And each card has an image on it,

The first card,

Has a woman in sparkling white,

Surrounded by jagged mountains,

Crafting a sculpture,

Of a dolphin leaping,

From the sea,

The second card,

Has a bush,

Full of berries,

And some small birds,

Among,

The inside of that bush,

Picking at those berries,

The third card,

Is a moose,

Carrying a flag,

And the fourth card,

Is a sloth,

Hanging from a tree,

And she looks back up,

At the whale,

Saying she doesn't understand,

And the whale,

Begins to explain,

That the cards make a journey of their own,

For you to find what you're looking for,

You need to find someone,

Who's able to craft something,

And they'll pick all the right pieces,

To make it just right,

And you'll be able to hold that up,

And look at it,

And know,

That it's the item for you,

And then you'll drift,

Into a dream,

That'll help you,

To unlock something deeper,

Than you're aware of,

And with that,

She folds those cards back together,

And with her best throw,

She throws the cards,

Back out to the whale,

Which leaps from the water,

Catching the cards,

And then disappears,

In a puff,

Of spray,

And as that salty scent fades,

As the spray dissipates,

So she heads back,

To the rope,

Wraps that,

String back around her,

And ascends back up the cliff,

Not really sure,

Whether that was any help at all,

And at the top of the cliff,

After unwinding her string,

From that tree,

She notices,

Something glinting in the distance,

And realizes perhaps that glinting,

Is what she should head towards next,

It's on her path,

And so she heads back,

On her path,

And as she heads towards that glinting,

So she realizes it's the spire,

Of what looks like,

A church,

In the middle of a town,

And she gets nearer and nearer to that town,

And can hear the mumbling of voices,

And sees the hustle and bustle of this town,

And there are so many places,

In this town,

She can see homes,

And different businesses,

And taverns,

But everyone walking around,

Are all just mice,

As if this whole town,

Is just a town of mice,

Each mouse,

Wearing a waistcoat,

Carrying a pocket watch,

And each mouse wearing a unique hat,

And each one wearing odd shoes,

Where the left shoe is different to the right,

And she wonders whether that's right,

As she walks through this town,

Trying to think where to go,

And then she notices,

What was catching that glinting light,

On top of the church like structure,

Is some kind of a sculpture,

Of a dolphin leaping from water,

And she heads towards that building,

Heads into the building,

And inside this building,

She encounters a cardinal dressed in purple,

In the most incredible purple robes,

That were flowing and moving,

And with every step he took,

It would wave,

And open,

And just drape down behind him,

As if every movement,

Gave that cape,

The most incredible flourish,

And as he saw her,

He said he knows why she's there,

And that he can create the outfit she needs,

And he asks her to take a seat,

As he begins to work on crafting that outfit,

And he goes to different drawers,

Seeks different materials,

Different elements,

Finding the right buttons,

Finding the right ribbons,

And while piecing together an outfit,

Occasionally looks back at her,

As if to size her up,

At no point,

Does he seem to feel the need to measure,

He just knows from glancing,

And while she sits and waits,

The atmosphere in here,

Is so calming,

And so peaceful,

The way the light,

Streams in delicately through the stained glass windows,

Almost hypnotically,

Making her want to drift and dream,

And float inside her mind,

And as the sun continues passing across the sky,

And the light through the stained glass windows,

Passes across her face,

So she feels like,

It's the delicate touch of moonlight,

Tickling her cheeks,

Her forehead,

Her eyelids,

Almost like the moonlight is dancing gently,

On the tips of her eyelids,

Making them want to close,

As she listens to the rhythmic sound,

Of that cardinal,

Crafting,

That item of clothing in the background,

And her eyes begin to close,

And she relaxes deeper,

And deeper into her mind,

Almost like,

She's wrapped in the most comfortable,

Heavy blanket,

Of peace and calm,

Listening to the gentle,

Drone,

Of that cardinal,

Working,

On that item of clothing,

And her mind wanders,

And she finds as her mind wanders,

That the voice in her mind,

Quietens down,

And while it quietens down,

She feels herself,

Lifting,

Lifting,

Lifting so gently,

Out of her body,

And then her awareness spreading out,

As if,

Touching and connecting,

With everything in this land,

Aware of the,

Creatures in this town,

Of all the animals beyond,

Rising up,

All the way to the attic,

In this church,

Connecting even with the bats in the attic,

And their deep slumber,

Before she hears a slight movement,

And instinctively knows,

It's time,

To pass back to her body,

And she opens her eyes,

And sees the cardinal standing,

Smiling,

Holding that item of clothing,

And he explains this clothing,

Is incredibly warm,

When it wants to be,

It detects the heat outside,

And modulates,

The temperature on the inside,

And so if it gets hot outside,

It cools down,

If it gets cold outside,

It warms up,

And so it can change,

Its temperature,

To keep you comfortable,

On your journey,

For when you,

Climb the glass mountains,

And she places,

That item of clothing on,

Ties it up gently,

Round her waist,

She says goodbye,

Here and sets off,

Continuing to follow that path,

And she feels like she's traveling,

For so long,

Often finding her mind,

Wandering while she goes,

And as she walks,

So she finds,

That there's a small creature,

Walking along with a mule,

And this small creature,

Is like a young fox,

And it's leading that mule along,

And it turns to the woman,

And says you wouldn't happen,

To have a need for a mule would you,

I've got this one going spare,

I've been walking with it for ages,

But I haven't met anyone,

Who needs it,

And I want to go home without it,

And the woman thinks a mule might help,

And so takes the mule off the fox's hands,

And finds the journey easier,

Riding on the mule,

And then sees,

The most incredible sight before her,

The moonlight,

And the stars now overhead,

Gently illuminating,

What look almost like see-through mountains,

They have snow on them,

But they're also see-through,

And there seems to be a slight,

Electric blue glow,

From in the mountains,

And as she approaches those mountains,

So she knows she's approaching,

Her destination to be able to hopefully,

Make it so that they can all,

Get home on their train journey,

Or at least go on to the next,

Proper destination,

And at the foot of the mountain,

She climbs on her own,

That string still following her up the mountain,

Trundling up through the snow,

Weaving and walking,

Being aware that as the snow clears,

With some of the steps,

She can see that,

Electric blue glow within the mountain,

And she continues to follow,

The path as it's laid out on the parchment,

Trusting,

That's the route she has to take,

Eventually making her way,

High up the mountains,

Where she sees a cave into a mountain,

And this cave is like a glass entrance,

And she walks into that glass entrance,

And finds once she's in a little way,

Beyond where the snow can reach,

She's walking on glass,

She can see the electric blue,

Just illuminating the inside of this mountain,

And she's so high up,

She can't see through that electric blue,

To see the base of this mountain,

But she follows this path,

And weaves around,

The different tunnels,

Deeper and deeper into the mountain,

The wind sound that was there to start with,

As she entered,

Now begins to fade away,

Once she's rounded a number of corners,

And then she notices,

As she continues to walk,

That there's a stronger,

Light blue glowing,

Ahead,

And she heads round,

To that glowing,

And as she finds her way to that glowing,

It opens out into a chamber,

And in the centre of this chamber,

Is an electric blue,

Sparkling fairy,

And this delicate fairy,

Is the most delicate looking,

Almost glass like wings,

Is hovering before her,

And she explains to the fairy,

Her predicament,

And explains about the train,

And the journey she's been on,

And the fairy says that,

The way to,

Set,

The realms back in line,

So that your realm is the one,

You find when you get back there,

You need to charge,

The spark,

And she asks what the spark is,

And she says the spark,

Is this device here in this mountain,

And she directs,

The woman to the spark,

She says you need to charge the spark,

And by charging the spark,

It'll accelerate,

Its rotation,

And you'll have to get back to the train quite quick,

But it'll accelerate the rotation,

And it will make the realms shift,

And you'll be able to,

Find that train back,

On the correct tracks,

But the woman asks,

How do you power this spark,

And the fairy says,

That it's about the parchment,

She's been carrying all this time,

The parchment's made from a special tree,

A tree that has such dense wood,

That it contains a lot of energy,

It just needs to be rolled up,

And fed gently,

Into the spark,

And that'll be why you were told,

To use that thread,

So that you can find your way back,

Without the need for the map,

And she gets told that on your way back,

You can skip a chunk of the journey,

If you just follow the yellow brick road,

And she asks what the yellow brick road is,

And the fairy says,

The yellow brick road,

Goes deep down,

Under the mountain,

And it takes you straight back,

To that doorway,

In those ruins,

Taking you all the way back,

To that woodland,

And then you just have to follow,

The string from that point,

And she says she'll show,

Where the yellow brick road is,

Once the spark is recharged,

And so the woman,

Recharges that spark,

And it whirs and crackles and pulses,

And the entire mountain,

Gets brighter and brighter,

And electricity sparks and arcs and jumps,

From the spark out,

To the sides of the glass mountains,

And seems to almost walk,

Down the sides of the mountains,

And then once it seems to be doing so,

All on its own,

The fairy directs the woman,

Through this mountain,

To a chute,

And says the yellow brick road,

Is here,

And opens that chute,

And the chute,

Is long and yellow,

And the fairy says,

You should just step in,

You'll be fine,

And the woman trusts the fairy,

Steps into the chute,

And drops down that yellow brick road,

Rapidly,

Shooting along like on a water slide,

Powering her way through the mountain,

Shooting along,

Under all the landscape,

She just traversed,

And then springing out,

Near the woodland,

And she notices,

That the exit from here,

Is near the entrance,

Through to where she just came from,

And she sees that red string,

She follows that red string,

Back through the woodland,

All the way back,

Over that bridge,

Back into the woodland,

The other side,

Of the river,

And at first she heads,

To that hippo's house,

She asks if she can take,

A photo with the hippo,

And the hippo has a fun idea,

Poses for the photo,

Has that balloon tied to its back,

That she'd left there,

Before going on her journey,

She then takes the balloon,

Heads back to the train,

And she can see the atmosphere,

Is shifting and changing and pulsing,

Almost like gentle purple clouds,

Surrounding them,

And she tells everyone,

To get back on the train,

And they all re-board the train,

And everything around them,

Turns purple and hazy,

And then that purple haze,

Shifts and then starts to clear,

And as it starts to clear,

So they find themselves,

In a snowy mountainous landscape,

And the driver announces,

Everything seems to be back,

To normal,

Back,

To how it should be,

And just in case,

Something else happens,

They're going to set off now,

And so they set off,

Continuing their journey,

And the woman sitting on the train,

Clickety-clack of the train on the tracks,

Writing on the photo,

That printed from her camera,

Telling the adventure she's been on,

Knowing she'll post this,

At the next stop,

And the woman finishes reading,

And has nearly finished drinking her tea,

And goes over and gazes out the window,

Staring up at the sky,

Imagining,

The days when she used to have adventures like this,

The days when she used to go,

To mythical places,

Magical places,

Her times,

Seeing ancient mythological beings,

And she smiles and draws the curtains,

Before heading to bed,

And settling down in bed,

And still finding her mind,

Going over the stories,

In the postcards she receives,

Of those adventures,

And looking forward to what'll come in the future,

And drifting and floating so peacefully,

So comfortably,

Asleep,

Into slumberland.

Reviews

Thank you I fell asleep before the end. Grateful for this gift.💜🙏💜⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️