Travel to Sockland

Chapter 6

He was falling but he had no concept of how fast. He was falling through blackness so deep he could almost feel it against his skin. In fact, he did feel a pressure on his eyes from the pressing dark. He was screaming - but even that sounded muffled. Air was rushing up past him as he travelled down, feet first.

He stopped screaming after some time. As a lot of children discover and will be able to testify, there is only so much screaming one can do. He began to notice socks falling around him, above him and below him. And still his fall continued.

Whatever next? He thought.

After an age or perhaps no time at all, he closed his eyes tight. No sooner had he closed them than he felt himself slow before he landed with a light thump, his body sinking into something. A soft landing. He opened his eyes. He was still in the hole. It was still pitch black. He felt for the wall and felt bricks curving round, feeling rough against his hand. There wasn't a lot of space. He looked up but there was nothing to be seen. He felt around with his hands and, of course, he felt socks. He had landed on a pile of socks again. Somehow he wasn't surprised.

His feet and lower body were submerged in the pile, his chest, arms and head were free. He wriggled his toes experimentally. They could wriggle. He almost jumped out of his skin when something wriggled back.

He tried to climb out of the pile, but there was nothing to grip onto. He grabbed at the walls and madly shook his body trying to get it up. The more he wriggled and moved, the more wriggling and movement he got in reply.

After scrabbling for a few minutes, the initial shock wore off and he stopped moving. He kept a hand on the wall while thinking about his options. It was only then that he noticed what was happening. Every few moments, his hand would slip slightly on the wall. The pile was going down.

He sat still, his hands pressed lightly against the wall. He was just thinking that it would be ok, when he realised with a sudden jolt that socks were continuing to fall. The pile was rising up his chest. He scrabbled again - and with every movement, he felt wriggling movements at his feet.

It was no use. The pile of socks continued to grow upwards, while his body continued to slowly sink down. At last, he tilted his face up and hoped he would get to the bottom, if indeed there was a bottom, before he drowned in a pile of socks. He imagined the headline now – "Man drowns in pile of socks" and despite himself he chuckled.

Gradually the pile continued its descent, and the pile of freshly fallen socks grew around him. He raised his hands above his head and began pulling socks off of his face as they fell. When it was only his face and his hands left - he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He felt his face cover over and he lay still.

When he couldn't hold his breath any longer, the breath burst from his mouth and at that moment, suddenly, he tumbled forward and rolled and rolled down a mountain of socks. He landed painfully on his back, eyes still closed. He could feel the light now shining on his eyelids. He pulled a sock absently from his face and opened his eyes. He blinked. Somehow, his glasses had stayed on this time. He blinked again. The sky was a different colour - this time fluorescent green. The ground was gold. Shining and gleaming in the light and casting an odd glow. The sun was blocked currently by thick, orange clouds so he couldn't see its colour. He looked behind him and there was a huge pile of socks, stretching quite a ways down to his left and right.

All along the pile were creatures, but these were no pegmen. He recoiled in surprise. They were baskets. Proper laundry baskets. All of them were white, they had two skinny arms four humanlike legs. He edged sidewise a little to get a better look and sure enough - they had thin, slanted yellow eyes - like those of a cat - and they had a Mr-Potato-head looking mouth. They were grabbing socks from the pile and throwing them into their basket selves. He noticed that once one of them was full - it would turn around and run off into the distance.

He looked straight ahead in the direction they were running and was taken aback. There was a village in the distance. It was complete with houses, various other buildings and pathways.

It looked strange, but he couldn't see it clearly and so couldn't quite place the strangeness. He heard a squawking noise overhead and looked up. There was a flock of bird-like creatures. He stared for a moment because they looked strange and then he noticed. They were coathangers flapping around in the sky as though it was perfectly normal.

"Good Lord!" He exclaimed aloud.

An image flashed into his imagination where he saw himself feeding the coathangers like one would with ducks or pigeons, but instead of bread, in his imagination he was feeding them little bits of cloth.

He felt someone watching him so looked away from the bird-hangers. He was face-to-face with one of the basket people.

"Hello! Can you tell me where I am?" He asked, trying not to sound frightened.

"Hello! Can you tell me where I am?" The basket person replied. It sounded just like him, but had a sort of mocking ring to it's voice. It then laughed joyously and uproariously for a few moments before opening it's mouth again. When it spoke this time, Arnie jumped in fright. A large group of voices had joined in.

"Hello! Can you tell me where I am?" They all said it in unison, in Arnies voice. That same mocking edge to it.

He looked around as all the voices squealed with delighted laughter and he saw that all the basket people had stopped working to join in. Some of them were even slapping their knees - their mirth was so strong.

Deciding he may have better luck at the village, and wondering what on earth these creatures were about he stood up straight and stalked past the basket person. As he stepped away he heard them all shout in unison again

"Hello! Can you tell me where I am?" And they all giggled delightedly again, their laughter echoed loudly.

They obviously don't get many jokes down here. He thought and then started his trek towards the village. There was a path just ahead, bordered with black lines, but he carefully stayed to the side of it as he had seen the baskets dashing up and down carrying their loads.

I wonder what'll come next. He thought as he trudged along, feeling annoyed.

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