Zakky's Writing Blog



As far as I know, I was born on Morse. What I do know, is that only several weeks ago, I fell into the World of Dobbingson, an enchanting realm filled with fairies, witches, wizards and all sorts of other mythical beings. It was both exhilarating, and terrifying.

I remember the day I fell as strongly as I’ve learnt to memorize the rules and regulations of the Seven Worlds.

The falling into the World of Dobbingson happened after my piano tutor had left for the day. I remained at home, alone. My mother was out. She was always out. And often left me to watch the house we lived within. She was dating the young mayor down the street. I can never remember his first name, but I do remember his last was Allan.

So while I was home alone and bored beyond imaginary, I continued to play the piano. I never really enjoyed playing the piano. I’d always wanted to play the saxophone, but Mother wouldn’t allow it. Anyway, it was only half an hour after the tutor had left that I began to hear someone giggling up the hallway.

I had no sisters, nor brothers, nor any friends… And neighbors would scarcely look at my mother, let alone me. They thought us to be strange. They called us foul words and horrid names like Satan’s Slaves, and Witch Bitches, but I’d never known what they were babbling on about. I thought they were just being cruel, or I did until I fell into the World of Dobbingson…

Seeing as I usually only talked with my mother and her special friend, Mayor Allan, I was exceptionally curious to who was giggling in my mother’s house.

“Who is it? Hello? Is somebody there?” I called to the silence.

No one answered..

So I continued on, gracefully playing the piano. And then I heard Her again, giggling stupidly in the hallways.

I had to investigate. I hopped down from the gigantic piano stool and tiptoed into the hallway. That’s where I caught her flash past me as a black blob of nothing. By then she was muttering words – a spell or enchantment perhaps – a prayer!

“I believe in Dobbingson, I believe in Dobbingson, I believe in Dobbingson.”

I looked up and down the hallways, in every room and under every bed, but I couldn’t relocate her.

I was ready to give up before I heard a jewelry box fall and smash in my mother’s bedroom. I walked the hallway to peer in. Inside I could see the fallen jewelry box – laying broken and slightly ajar on the floor – next to my mother”s bed.

At the end of the bed stood the giggling girl. She had black and slightly tinted green hair. Her eyes were sparkling blue and bright. And she was barefoot and only clothed in a white dress.

I watched her with bewilderment and curiosity. Until she noticed me. She was admiring herself in my mother’s looking glass – my mother owns dozens of mirrors but never looks in the half of them – with my mother’s most precious piece of jewelry.

Hey! That’s my mother’s pendulum!” I shouted – bluntly and without thinking – scaring the little girl. The Pendulum Of Cora is a green stone that dangles from a golden thread of chain. The girl was shocked and frightened to see that I’d caught her, and soon disappeared. She just faded. She was a ghost. A ghoul!

The pendulum dropped. I watched it, in the reflection of the mirror, as it fell from the ghoul girl’s hand and drop to the floor.

I was shaking in terror when I went to pick up the pendulum. I looked for it thoroughly, for five whole minutes, navigating the location of where it should be, from where I and the bed could be seen in the mirror, but I couldn’t spot it. That was before I realized I couldn’t find it because it was trapped in the mirror. And not in my mothers physical room! I was devastated. My mother would blame me for this!

“I’m going to get in trouble,” I cried.

I was so scared, I thought I ought to run away! Mother always had a fierce temper about her belongings. Some things I couldn’t even touch without a slap on my poor bottom.

But then I thought; no wait. If I can get it out of the mirror and back into the jewelry box, then she might not even notice.

I reached for my mothers spell book and searched the pages desperately… Until I regrettably got distracted. I had stumbled across the same poem the dead girl had been chanting.

I believe in Dobbingson…

Through colors, and space and time,

I believe in Dobbingson…

Through colors, and space and time,

I believe in Dobbingson…

Curious about the poem, I chanted it.

And then it happened, that’s when I fell.

I watched, horror stricken, as the room melted into an array of colors. The colors melted the room, the walls, my mother’s bed, her furniture and the floor beneath me. I had caused a waterfall of colors, a gaping hole into an abyss!

I failed to get outside of the room in time, tripped, and then fell far and deep into a portal of colors. It was all white down there, and then it was black.

I believe I may have fainted.

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