Is it my imagination?


And on we go … is it my imagination or is this going on a bit longer than perhaps it should? Fun though!


‘All to do with the trees?’ Sophie asked Janet. ‘I know trees are important, but how can that affect Mum?’

Janet gazed over the forest before her. The green had dulled, faded, become faintly translucent, as if a diaphanous veil had been thrown over the scene, including the sky. The Goblin King must not yet have completed his work.

‘This forest, and our forest at home, are linked, through you and me, Dragon, Pixie, Fairy and the Goblin King. It’s why we can travel back and forth, when the need is there.’ She turned to her cousin.

Felled forest not in my imagination!

‘Right now, people are planning to destroy the forest in the world we thought of up until now as the ‘real world’. I left someone behind to hopefully start dealing with it, but it’s only a temporary solution.’

‘Do you mean the development the Council is shoving through with unseemly haste?’ Sophie shook her head. ‘Mum was on about that just the other day, really working herself into a state.’ She stared into Janet’s eyes. ‘Dad said she should write a letter, and Mum blew up about how the bureaucrats play lip service to consultation and then do what they bloody want to do and it would take more than a letter.’

‘Yes.’ Janet clasped her cousin’s arms. ‘Your mum knows, of course, that the fates of the two forests are intertwined. And especially the willow where we played, because that is the centre of the magic in that world.’ She waved at the trees. ‘Here, the magic is all over, but if the willow is destroyed, the magic will disappear from this world.’ She drew in a breath. ‘Which means this world disappears.’

Sophie’s eyes filled with horror. ‘Our home,’ she whispered. ‘What can we do, Janet?’

‘Our grandparents, the king and queen, have promised to tell me this morning, once you arrived.’ Janet looked at the remains of the breakfast, of which there were little. ‘Are you ready?’

‘I am. But look!’ Sophie squinted at the landscape. ‘Is it my imagination, or does the Forest seem less … less transparent?’

Janet looked and her heart gave a leap. ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘Simon and the Goblin King have destroyed the plans. The first step is done, for now. They will be here soon to help us with whatever quest the king and queen send us on.’ She hugged Sophie. ‘Let’s go and find out what it is.’

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2 thoughts on “Is it my imagination?”

  1. Sounds like a never ending adventure (LOL). Here’s my effort:

    IS IT MY IMAGINATION?

    “Is it my imagination, or is that a convoy of trucks we can see in the distance?”
    My question prompted a response from my colleague who, grabbing his binoculars, squinted through the shimmering desert heat.
    “Yes, I think you are right,” he said. “Wondering what they are doing way out here?”
    Seth and I had spent the past few days on a reconnaissance mission for the global oil company we represented in the heart of the Registan Desert in south-eastern Afghanistan.
    Despite our company’s high hopes, the mission proved to be largely fruitless with all test samples revealing no prospect of new oil finds.
    We had just finished a meal and were packing up our makeshift camp in readiness for the journey back to the capital Kabul when we spotted the convoy.
    The trucks appeared to be coming closer and now we could see they were crammed with armed soldiers, guns at the ready.
    “You don’t think they are coming for us, do you?” I asked.
    Seth shrugged. “Don’t see why. We have all the right paperwork that allows to do what we are doing.”
    The convoy stopped next to our dismantled tent and two men who appeared to be officers jumped down from the lead truck.
    “Come,” they commanded.
    “What about our vehicle and our gear?” queried Seth.
    “Leave them. Come.” The one who obviously was in charge gestured towards the truck.
    The long ride back to Kabul was hot, smelly and uncomfortable, shoved as we were in the back with a dozen soldiers who obviously hadn’t showered or bathed for at least a week.
    Seth looked at me, hiding his concern with great difficulty. Where on earth were they taking us and why had the officers in charge insisted on us leaving our possessions behind?
    On our arrival in Kabul, we were marched unceremoniously into what obviously was the commandant’s office.
    He barked orders in his native Dari before addressing us in perfect English.
    “So, gentlemen, you are here exploring for oil, is that correct?”
    “Yes, that is correct, but I’m guessing you already know that given all the paperwork we had to fill out before we arrived in your country,” I said.
    Seth was silent and I could see struggling to contain his anger at being forced from our campsite.
    “Of course,” agreed the commandant. “And no doubt you are wondering why I have had my men bring you here.”
    “Well, yes,” I said. “I mean our initial testing has been totally unsuccessful and we were getting ready to return to Kabul when your men turned up in their trucks.”
    “No doubt,” replied the commandant. “But do you know that you have been looking in the wrong area. We are prepared to show terrain, terrain that is normally off limits to foreigners, where we believe you will have the greatest chance of success.”
    I suspiciously eyed the commandant.
    “And what would you want in return?” I asked.
    “Fifty per cent revenue of whatever you find.” A satisfied smile crossed his face.
    Seth and I exchanged glances.
    “We will need to ask our superiors back home,” I told the commandant, “before we can agree to such an arrangement.”
    “Fine,” he said. “You do that and I suggest you be quick about it.”
    “What about our vehicle and camping gear?” I added.
    “Waiting outside for you. One of my men brought it all back after we put you on the truck.”

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