Virginia Woolf

Up goes the rocket. Its golden grain falls, fertilising, upon the rich soil of my imagination.

Up goes the rocket. Its golden grain falls, fertilising, upon the rich soil of my imagination.

– Virginia Woolf –

The Waves

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Carol Hughes

Now that we’ve come up with all the obvious answers to our problem, it’s time to come up with some truly ridiculous ones.””Ridiculous?” asked Brasque.”Yes, ridiculous. Think of something impossible, improbable or downright ridiculous and go from there.””Like we all flap our arms and fly out of here,” said Katherine.”Exactly!” said Spider.”How about we form a long line all the way to the mountains and pass the charges along it?” said Brasque.”Excellent,” said Spider. “Keep it coming.””What if we each carry one charge, run back, carry another, and so on?” said Tom, getting into the swing of things.”Lovely!” laughed Spider. “Now we’re cooking.”The shower of sparks shot out of the top of the Amadragon. Joe shielded his eyes with his hand.”Yeah, and we can all climb on the Amadragon and ride out of here,” he said.”What was that, Joe?” said Spider, suddenly dropping the jokey manner. “What’s the Amadragon?”Katherine’s eyes glittered. “He means that,” she said, pointing at the excavator. Everyone except Spider turned and looked. “He’s talking about the giant machine, the one that keeps shooting sparks in the air.”Spider cocked his ear and listened to the rumble of the Amadragon’s engine. “So Orlemann built the dragon, did he?” he said. “I’d been wondering what the noise was. If they built it to the original specifications, it should get us out of here within an hour. Let’s pray that will give us enough time!

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