Down the rabbit hole .... Part I

We were three days out when the storm hit us. The brisk wind, that had moaned in the rigging and sent the spinnaker soaring, pulling us over waves as though we were flying, turned into a raging hurricane that whipped the sea into a frenzy. Gigantic waves crashed onto the decks and threatened to swamp us at any moment. The tempest tore at the rigging; sails and spars creaking, ominously, as we battled with the cordage in a vain attempt to lower some of the sails. Barrels, that had been lashed to the handrails, broke free and, as the vessel plummeted into a trough, they rolled ever closer to me and I feared I would be flattened beneath them. The twins saw the island first; silhouetted in the luminous, lightning flashes and hope caught in my throat. Miraculously, the storm was blowing us towards the beach and sanctuary. Fearing that a reef may lie between us and safety, the Knave sank to his knees and prayed for deliverance. But I trusted no god and, listening to the creaks and rattles of the craft, I stared into the darkness at the fast approaching shore. Thus far, I had led a charmed life, often nearing disaster, but never quite succumbing.

The vessel came to ground on a sandbank, a few yards from the shore, listing precariously in the shallow water. I scooped up the Dormouse, shoving him into the band of my elastic- waisted, gypsy skirt. Then, a pause, as I checked that the twins had tucked the Cheshire cat safely into his basket. We swiftly gathered all we could carry and slid into the water. As we waded through the foaming waves and onto the beach, our battered vessel fell onto its side and the main-mast was wrenched in two. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the storm abated and we fell, exhausted, onto the silver sands. The pale moon rose in the sky and stars twinkled like diamonds studded in midnight-blue velvet. The Fisher-King cast his net of dreams and we slept where we lay.

" I'm late, I'm late " the Birds-of-Paradise seemed to say, to the harmonious accompaniment of the burring wings of the Hummingbird. The morning sun kissed our faces and Tweedledum and Tweedledee made nettle tea, so we sat on the sand, by the lagoon, sipping the aromatic beverage and, as the playing cards floated in and out on the tide, we thought of home. ______________________________________________________________________________________________

The above is my entry for this weeks Word Game, famously invented by the marvellous Matt. All details can be found on his blog at http://miblodelcarpio.blog.co.uk

This is a slight departure from my usual offering and probably confirms your suspicions about the state of my mind. I'm sure you could come up with something either equally weird or, infinitely more sensible, so please do 'have a bash' ! Just remember to include the following words;

CHARMED, MOANED, NETTLE, SOARING, CLOSER, TWINS, PAUSE, DREAMS, BURRING, WAISTED, RATTLES.

This was first published on http://tearose.blog.co.uk in January 2013