“Oh dear. Still there,” says Old Mabel, walking around her Minoan home this morning. That could only mean one thing.
She continues to circumnavigate the grounds…
Front gate.
… then spies this new spectacle just past the lighthouse. A big colorful, half hidden eye…
… whose pupil flickered back and forth at a rapid pace. It sat just above and beyond a side gate of the property leading to Collagesity North. The formerly closed portal was now open.
A huge blue whale flew over her head as she was pondering whether to pass through the gate, briefly blocking out the sun.
The eye both beckoned and warned. What would she choose?
—–
Old Mabel woke up. She had nodded off while listening to Beetles music again and working on another page of her journal (concerning Lucky). Across from her stood a brown being whose head almost touched the ceiling.
Old Mabel removed her headphones, which were blaring out Lennon’s “No. Nine Dream” off his “Walls and Bridges” solo project from the mid-70s. “Dutch, I presume,” she said, feigning calm amidst the surprise appearance.
“Who else?” he said in a deep voice appropriate for his size and raising all four hands simultaneously.
Sunklands 