wytchcroft | babylon dutch continued / вавилонский голландец длительный

four: Alice’s Adventures on the Island – and what she found there.

“Curiouser and Curiouser,” said Alice as she and the Baron walked slowly through the teaming undergrowth of the island. “I mean – it seems to me that a moment ago it was night time, but now we seem to be in the middle of the day.”

The Baron huffed impatiently. “People are always in the middle of something, everybody knows that.”

“Not everybody,” Alice scowled, “because clearly I didn’t know that.”

“Perhaps you simply forget, children are very forgetful by nature – you should know that too.”

It’s his boots, thought Alice, they’re a very fine pair of boots too and I imagine he’s very irritated to be getting them so muddy and stained.

There was a degree of truth to this for the Baron did feel the pain of his boots quite acutely.

On the other hand, he only became visibly irritated when Alice asked him direct questions, like everyone she’d met recently; he didn’t like those at all and preferred to regale his small companion with grand tales, story and practical tips for adventuring.

Only he would confuse her by mixing everything up so.

One moment the Baron would be gesturing wildly and talking of how he had been forced to disguise himself as his friend Cyrano, in order to duel a hundred men in the winding streets of Paris, the next he was explaining how the island was full of the forces of darkness that would do anything to prevent them finding the map, especially since that would delay his return to the Sultan’s Palace, where a great fortune awaited him as the result of a bet –
and then he would nod sagely and offer advice such as “Do try to keep the paths and tracks my dear, but don’t worry too much, if you fall in the swamp you can easily pull yourself out by your hair.”

Could you keep up with a fellow who prattled on in such a fashion?

But the Baron, Alice was forced to admit, was extremely entertaining, and his sudden brilliant gleam of a smile was really quite beguiling – and he was certainly no stick in the mud like The Seabird’s Captain.

All about them the insects and tropical birds kept up their songs and with his three cornered hat and beaky visage the Baron often seemed to be joining in harmony, flapping his arms and singing out his stories like a bird himself.

“And how did the little rabbit run?
Straight to the farmer with his gun
5 – 4-3-2-1!
When the farmer shoots the work is done

But bring that Bunny home and then
Perhaps he’ll live to run again?

Pif Paf! Fiddle de dee!
Can you sing a riddle just like me?”

“Of course I can!” sniffed Alice haughtily.

“Sing a song of Pilchards
A pocketful of why
4 and 20 babies
Straight to the sky.”

Alice shook her head, “No, no – that’s all wrong!”

The Baron nodded, “Naturally, naturally.” He smiled.

Alice began to sulk.

The Baron however decided not to notice this, and he wasn’t prepared to waste such a rich tenor as his own.

“Twinkle, twinkle little girl
Strong enough to rule the world
Like a diamond in a cow
Everybody wonders how.”

But to Alice this was just silly.

“Come along yourself,” she said, stamping a booted foot and pushing at the man. “We’ve got a map to find!”

“Find?” The Baron stopped for a moment, striking as elegant a pose as he could muster. “What do you mean ‘find’? How can you ‘find’ something that isn’t lost? We know where the Dutchman’s map is after all. The Centre of the island, the centre of the Earth, not lost at all.”

“But…”

The Baron pointed a long and silk wrapped arm. “See?”

And the little girl followed the arm and yes, there was something; it glinted in the tropical haze.
Her mouth open wide, Alice turned to ask another question but the Baron had gone.

“Not at all polite,” Alice noted in annoyance, “but that’s royalty for you.”

Just for an instant Alice could have sworn she saw the Baron’s wide and flashing grin floating in space and all by itself. But then she blinked and decided the light was simply playing tricks.

Firmly now, she turned about and started forwards once more, this time towards the object of the departed Baron’s interest. Whatever it was, glittering between the trees, Alice was determined to discover. And she certainly hoped it was the map.

…………..

Tramping slowly on through the tropical woodlands of the island, Alice began to notice an odd quality to the daylight; it was shifting gradually as if time had passed, but risking a glance at the brightness above, Alice realised with a start that there was no sun. The clear sky above might well have been a single bulb, one that was gradually dimming, given a milky look to the already thick air around her.

But no sun.

There was a clearing, a sort of marshy lake – wide and still. And stuck into the muddy edge, like a thumb into a pie, was a large metal object, it had wings and a tail and its carcass creaked softly as the day began to cool.

Staring made her eyes tired, so Alice stepped through the tacky mud and up close to the thing. For a moment, as her thoughts swirled about her, she wondered if it might be a sculpture – a bird made of metal and fixed into the earth.
But it didn’t seem that way; there was a discarded look to the object, cast like a dart into the ground.

And then a part of her mind cleared and she knew what it was – although she wasn’t sure how, an aeroplane. If she had seen one before then it was a mystery as to where, more likely there had been something in the library but nothing that came to her as she tried to consciously recall, just the basic fact that she was looking at an aeroplane, she was certain of that.

Boldly she reached out a hand to touch the surface. Solid and unmoving the skin was rough to the touch and when she took her fingers away she saw they were stained with a faint grassy green, clearly the island was making the plane part of itself, insects scuttled along the main body of the craft and there were pits and cracks and creeping vines were beginning to spread their sinewy cords around it.

Since her fingers were already smeared, Alice decided she could clear away some of the grime and look closer at the silver underneath. Still cautious of upsetting the plane she picked spots around the whole, wiping gently at balanced points she uncovered numbers, letters and – yes, those were stars on the wing, gold and red. Stars.
Now she was really curious.

Nothing had stirred, no/one had running out of the undergrowth angry at her disturbance and the aeroplane had not moved even a fraction. Before she knew what she was doing Alice began to hunt for a lever, a catch, a handle, something that might tease open a door somewhere so she could investigate inside.

“Oh dear!” she gasped as quite without warning there WAS a door, a hatch, a hole, it was wide and it was dark and she fell into it helplessly.

............................
end of pt 4. - next: flight

Current Mood: curious
Current Location: the island

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

gunter-spb.livejournal.com

It is very difficult to translate into Russian. But I will try to translate. I do not know the English language. German language for the Russians better.

Emotional example:

(English) - Mr. Holmes, it is extremely! This dog Baskervill! This is awful!

(Russian language) - Holmes is pizdets! Dog!!!

In Russian, the emotions are very short.

This is a joke. Russian joke. We are savage. Natives. :)))

From:

ah - ya winsomnia lose some!

babylon dutch continued / вавилонский голландец длительный

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