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Terry opened his eyes.
He was staring straight up into the bluest sky he had ever seen.
During those few confusing seconds between sleeping and waking he tried to remember
what had happened. Where was he? How did he get here? Then he remembered - the bullies,
the book, the fire -
He hated fire.
Somewhat surprised that he wasn't dead, he stood up and looked around.
He was standing on bright pink concrete that extended to the horizon on all sides until it disappeared into the deep blue of the sky. There were no cracks or joins in the concrete. It was absolutely flat and smooth as far as the eye could see.
But that wasn't the strangest thing. Right next to him was a signpost, also made from pink concrete, that had arrows pointing in four directions. On three of the arrows was carved the word 'Nowhere'. The other arrow had the word 'Muffet' etched into it.
"Hello," he called out. "Can anyone hear me?"
His words were swallowed by the expanse of pink.
For just a brief second his heart tightened in panic. He was all alone - who knows where? - nobody to help him - no money - no food or water -
But then he took a deep breath and sat down. Terry was no stranger to being alone. He just had to stay calm and think things through. On the plus side he didn't seem to be burned at all. And his clothes were fine. On the minus side he had no idea where he was or how he got here.
He looked again at the signpost and considered his options. There didn't seem much point in just staying here. And heading Nowhere didn't sound like a very good idea.
So he started walking in the direction of Muffet.
Before too long the signpost disappeared behind him. The pink expanse was now totally featureless in all directions. He checked the position of the sun to ensure that he could maintain his direction and continued to walk.
Not too long after that a shape appeared on the horizon that, from a distance, looked a bit like a giant mushroom. He approached it cautiously to discover that it was about twice his height and was made up of thousands of brightly coloured feathers that somehow hung together to form the shape of a mushroom.
He touched the structure and, to his surprise, it silently blew apart, creating a floating storm of feathers which wafted around him like snowflakes before settling back into their original form.
He looked ahead. There was another one a bit further on. And then another one after that.
Quickening his step a little, Terry continued on and before too long found himself walking inside a forest of the amazing feather mushrooms. The further he went, the thicker they became - to the extent that eventually it was impossible to continue forward without brushing against the mushrooms as he walked. This had the effect of creating a constant wafting storm of feathers that floated around him with every step he took.
He felt like he was in one of those ticker-tape parades that they throw for famous people. He remembered seeing one for some king or queen on his grandma's television years ago.
"Excuse me, thwiggle-head," said a voice. "Some of us are trying to eat our breakfast."
Terry whirled around to see a girl, about his age, sitting cross-legged on the top of a nearby mushroom. She had long, darkish hair and wore an old-fashioned tunic - the sort that women used to wear with petticoats underneath. She was busily picking feathers out of a large bowl which sat in her lap.
Continue...
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