This continues from Adrian's Amble, I apologise if it comes off as a bit boring, I promise that the next part is more interesting :)
The goo reaching just below his neck and the breathable air having quickly turned to hot, reeking steam, Adrian was nearly driven to despair. Unusually, though, the sinking stopped and he stood there – nearly immersed but definitely alive. Several seconds passed where nothing happened, the gloop of a bubble the only sound in the cookie cottage until a wrinkled arm shot up out of the “water”.
‘Blaa!’ he said, startled. Adrian would have jumped but the liquid was too viscous. The old, purplish hand was holding a disembodied eye. Another arm shot up out of the muck and the hand made the shape of a mouth – it began to “talk” to him in a clear and whiny voice, as if the hand itself had a voice box.
‘Why, you aren’t a child! Why go to all the trouble of building a place like this if all I catch are disgusting old men – hmm?’
‘I’m not an old man,’ Adrian complained.
‘Well you might as well be.’ The hand clicked its fingers. The house was gone and Adrian was simply in the middle of the swamp. ‘This place is supposed to look like whatever you want most on the outside. Could never quite get the inside to work though, always ends up as a gingerbread house.’
‘I don’t see the point of –’
‘Quiet.’ The hand lent forward. ‘Is that spinach that I can smell?’
‘Sure, but –’
‘Why didn’t you say so?’ The hands disappeared beneath the surface, and quickly the head and torso of a short, bulbous hag emerged. The hag squished the eye back into its socket, and she clicked her fingers again; Adrian was now standing only knee deep in the slippery ooze.
‘Come on – let us have the spinach, love. If there’s one thing I like more than children, it’s spinach.’ Now it was talking with its mouth, as well as slavering profusely.
He began to reach into his pocket but stopped abruptly.
‘You’ve got to promise me that I can leave the swamp, and that you’ll show me in the right direction to the mountains.’
‘Alright, alright, anything if you give me that spinach!’
‘And I – well if it’s anything…’
‘Yes, yes, anything, give me the food!’
‘I want you to take me there. Take me to the Lentil.’
‘The what?’
‘Look, just use your magic or something – you people know all sorts of tricks.’
‘I will call you in a favour I’m owed, okay? Now make with the spinach.’
Adrian handed over the green stalk, and everything began to fade away. That isn’t to say that he fainted, but the whole of everything but himself faded out of view and left him standing in nothing. A blackness was formed in front of him – out of it came a young woman in a hooded cloak, carrying something in her arms.
The goo reaching just below his neck and the breathable air having quickly turned to hot, reeking steam, Adrian was nearly driven to despair. Unusually, though, the sinking stopped and he stood there – nearly immersed but definitely alive. Several seconds passed where nothing happened, the gloop of a bubble the only sound in the cookie cottage until a wrinkled arm shot up out of the “water”.
‘Blaa!’ he said, startled. Adrian would have jumped but the liquid was too viscous. The old, purplish hand was holding a disembodied eye. Another arm shot up out of the muck and the hand made the shape of a mouth – it began to “talk” to him in a clear and whiny voice, as if the hand itself had a voice box.
‘Why, you aren’t a child! Why go to all the trouble of building a place like this if all I catch are disgusting old men – hmm?’
‘I’m not an old man,’ Adrian complained.
‘Well you might as well be.’ The hand clicked its fingers. The house was gone and Adrian was simply in the middle of the swamp. ‘This place is supposed to look like whatever you want most on the outside. Could never quite get the inside to work though, always ends up as a gingerbread house.’
‘I don’t see the point of –’
‘Quiet.’ The hand lent forward. ‘Is that spinach that I can smell?’
‘Sure, but –’
‘Why didn’t you say so?’ The hands disappeared beneath the surface, and quickly the head and torso of a short, bulbous hag emerged. The hag squished the eye back into its socket, and she clicked her fingers again; Adrian was now standing only knee deep in the slippery ooze.
‘Come on – let us have the spinach, love. If there’s one thing I like more than children, it’s spinach.’ Now it was talking with its mouth, as well as slavering profusely.
He began to reach into his pocket but stopped abruptly.
‘You’ve got to promise me that I can leave the swamp, and that you’ll show me in the right direction to the mountains.’
‘Alright, alright, anything if you give me that spinach!’
‘And I – well if it’s anything…’
‘Yes, yes, anything, give me the food!’
‘I want you to take me there. Take me to the Lentil.’
‘The what?’
‘Look, just use your magic or something – you people know all sorts of tricks.’
‘I will call you in a favour I’m owed, okay? Now make with the spinach.’
Adrian handed over the green stalk, and everything began to fade away. That isn’t to say that he fainted, but the whole of everything but himself faded out of view and left him standing in nothing. A blackness was formed in front of him – out of it came a young woman in a hooded cloak, carrying something in her arms.
I love this! You're so creative.
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