Page 14 - GINGER

Sun shone, bathing the greens with orange gold. It only made Wobbly glow like a lava
lamp. Wobbly and Pristlebear woke up only to find Ginger’s woody pillow lying empty
and alone.

Wobbly stepped in front of her, blocking her way, as soon as he found her…

“No, no, no. You don’t go there.” He held his hands in obstruction, still groggy and
disoriented with night’s sleep.

“But I made all of this, right?” She folded her hands to her chest.

“This part is from your bad dreams.” He halted for a second to think.

“The times you starved to sleep, times you missed your mother’s voice, and some things are
such that we could never comprehend.” He said carefully.

“They have grown bigger with your growing thoughts. The Batlions and Frogosauruses,
your darkest creations, thorns forming huge walls, miles of thick black fog that runs amidst
like snakes, and the worst of it all – you don’t want to know.”

Ginger said nothing, but pouted with a girly frown.

She turned away from him angry and started walking – upset, when she heard a cling,
and she saw the paint brush clutched in her hand slip and slide through a Mail slot
making a clinging sound.

“A Mail box!” She was surprised.

“Ginger?” The Mail box asked back, in a boyish husky voice.

“Whh…at…, whoaa…you’re not real!” She stepped back, taken aback. “I never even
created you! You are a delusion.”

“Ginger, I am as real or unreal as everyone else here.” The box affirmed.

“What are you? Stop calling me Ginger.” She frowned interrogatively at the voice.

Two eyes blinked from the mail slot of the box that stood right in front of her, the source
of the low pitch voice, and a small door creek opened at its foot, “Enter, and you will have
your answers.”