This is not intended to be any form of masterpiece. It is merely a loose-letting of your opinions expressed by Ellery Havers in her ultra-insane adventures which can take any form you wish. It's just a bit of fun.

I sneezed. Can I not ever go outside into the sunshine and not sneeze? It's all those tiny things. Why do I have at least one cold in the head a year? Why do I always trip over stairs? Why do I always say something in front of everyone in a just-got-out-of-bed voice? Well, I wouldn't mind these things much. They're just natural, and I don't care much what people think of me. What riles me is that some lucky wretches never have unfortunate things like this happen to them. They are known as the popular folk. The Royal Family. The posh totties who never seem to do anything wrong. About a fifth of the girls I know belong to this group. Then there's me. I don't think I'm especially clumsy, and I'm healthy enough, and I'm careful, but when I'm near one of royal blood it's disheartening to feel so inferior. What must it be like never to feel unconfident? I wonder. In some ways, it must be horrible. No kicking Percy Pigs on to the garage roof. No fooling about with a pen and a bouncy ball. No piggybacks and wheelbarrow races across the field. How do they ever have fun? What can they find to laugh about? Laughing at your friends' mistakes is half the fun in having friends. Or good friends, anyway.

Well, I sneezed. And that's all there is to it. Sneezing transported me away from my garden into a kind of trance. Goodness knows why. Goodness knows where this is leading. It's sounding like Alice at the moment. Any minute now I'm going to see a white rabbit in a waistcoat glance anxiously at a shiny golden pocketwatch glinting in this cursed sunshine that gives me such hayfever.

No such luck. What did happen was that I heard a whistling sound hurtle on the breeze into my ears. It was so high-pitched no mere adult could ever have heard it. But I could. And up there amidst the icy wisps up there in the great blue bowl was a brown speck swooping and playing.

It was no witch come to say of a great storm that blows houses to faraway fictional lands, or a pegasus offering me a ride to Cloud City. No; a mighty gryphon with the beak of an eagle and the hindquarters of a lion. It had a great mane of silver, and a tail of bronze, and its coat and feathers shimmered copper in the dazzle.

The gryphon whistled once again to me, and I ran and skipped and sang for the exhilaration of it. I was racing across the grass, and over the pond. Why did I not sink? I glanced down, and I saw tiny red feathered wings sprouting from my toes.

I gave a great whoop and gathered speed, my arms spreadeagled like wings, and very soon they were indeed wings, and my toes were wings also, and a surge of joy overflowed inside me. Flying.

What happened next? Please, no oldstyle fairytales. Use your imagination. What story needs a plot when it is just utter and complete rubbish? Suffice say it, my name is Ellery Havers, and I am twelve years of age. Now my adventures will take off...

The End

10 comments about this exercise Feed