I woke up to a meekly rocking, black sky devoid of clouds and stars and such, but crawling with over at least fifty black figures: ravens.
And a swallowtail butterfly sitting in my front. I could see one of her forewings had been damaged. ‘Hello Goof,' I greeted her. ‘Been a while.’
She beat her wings.
‘Yeah,' I replied. ‘Thanks for saving my life.’
She agitated her proboscis.
‘Nice to see you, too.’
I was honestly surprised to see Goof alive at all. Swallowtail butterflies are known to have a lifespan of about two weeks at most. Then again, this was a giant butterfly, a magical butterfly.
I now noticed a few wilting flowers lying besides her, the nectar clearly sucked out of them.
‘Good. So you’ve arranged food for yourself.’
My eyes were burning up. ‘On,' I ordered the schooner, which sped and stalled and sped again, because there was a gaping perforation in its main sail flag. Would have to do.
The lionfishes had probably went to inform Queen Elizabeth 1.5 and the others about this incident. But I couldn’t wait for back-up or anything. I must be close to reaching Lakoswanion anyway.
Looking over the portside, I saw the three UFOs swimming their way to the shore, to the trees, their homes. Their family with blank-slate faces waited expectantly. I wish I could return to my family.
But thinking of that hurt.
Niffy must be so ebullient.
Anyhow, this is where we are right now. Goof flies off to the forests on our either side from time to time – in which period I’m worried of some other monstrosity attacking me out of the blue (well, dark green, for the most part, if we’re talking about the lake) – and I try to keep my mind concentrated on driving myself to Lakoswanion.
My eyelids often close on their own accord, and the HD image of Niffy and Marra and Aar holding hands and going 'We are powerful, and might is we, resides in me, resides in me' while See starves in the corner and Toby droops and dries and dies jerks me awake.
But it’s not long before I fall asleep. I know it. This is a fatiguing job. Hats off to Es for doing it while singing her cacophony.
No judgements, no mocking. Rule Number 3. I know I’ve . . . not been the best friend, or the best daughter, but . . . Ahh, I don’t know. The whole moving and adjusting got to me, I think. Maybe the visions were just a side-effect of all that.
Rule Number 4. Be understanding.
And yes, we’re all caught up, I think? I covered all the important stuff, I guess. I’ll be telling you what happens now onwards live, as it happens. Maybe I’ll end up describing how I die. Although I don’t know what my friends must be up to. Now I’m just waiting to . . . to . . .
You're familiar with the risk I took in the first book. The book's going to be narrated in present tense now on. Even the name of the chapter is the same as was in the last book when we hit this checkpoint.
Take care <3
YOU ARE READING
Sort of Deadly
Humor*Sequel to 'Sort Of Dead'* *Kindly read the previous installment beforehand* ~ "You know the feeling when you see a glass jar filled with perfectly round, colorful marbles, and you just want to put one - or two, or three - in your mouth, even though...
