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The Floating Island


There once was a floating island, which no human down on the ground could see. It may be above you but the island from underneath was invisible. The island was happy and peaceful. There were lush leaves, birds tweeting, butterflies fluttering, bees buzzing and the most amazing part was the fabulous flowers. They had all the sunlight possible! The flowers stood there beautifully. The sun was hot like an oven. It was the most beautiful place anyone could imagine, before the curse!

One day a wicked witch saw the island and it was so wonderful she wanted it for herself. She asked the people who lived on the island if she could have it but the people wouldn’t let a witch take their home. The witch went mad and put a dreadful curse on the island and ran off with a very unique cunning cackle.

Soon enough, the people found out there island was cursed. Every night, a part of the island was torn away from the rest and started moving all in the same direction. Where were they all going?

Weeks had passed since the witch arrived. The parts of the island were being dragged as if it was attached to a rope and pulled. They were moving away from the sun and everyday there were fewer and fewer butterflies and bees. The flowers drooped down and were brown.

 Then the islands in front stopped moving and the islands were being stuck together like it was using super glue! People started to cheer as the island was being put back together but were not expecting what was to happen next.

Once the island was put together, they heard that very same cackle they heard when the witch first came but the witch was much bigger this time. She held up the island and SPLASH! They landed in her stone cauldron. She added many things into her cauldron. Then she got out a spoon and picked the island up and ate it.

Nothing happened for a long time. Was this the end of the island? Were they just going to be eaten up by a greedy witch? There was a small noise coming from the witch’s stomach. Slowly it became louder and louder. Then the island smashed through her stomach and back into the air. It raced through the sky until it reached the sun again. Behind them they could hear the witch roaring. The flowers stood tall again, the butterflies and bees came out and everything were back to normal once again.


Floating Away

It wasn't always like this, sad, lonely, it used to be different. Full of energy, never quiet and especially, never lonely. The day it started, the beginning of a sad, new life. Before the tragedy it was wonderful everyone had friends and no one was lonely and nothing was quiet. 


It was an early morning when it first happened, the ground started shaking you could hear a rumble under your feet and the ground started to move around my friend 

John's house. As the shaking increased the earth started to crack, the cracks began to grow and soon John and his house began to rise up into the sky and floated away. Nobody knew what was happening. The island has been floating for hundreds of years but parts have never broken off and floated away. Everybody was scared and worried and had no idea what to do. But then, the rumble stopped and everybody calmed down a little bit. Then it happened again, the ground started to shake, another crack appeared and another house started to rise and float away, my best friend Bill was gone forever. Everyone on the island was scared and shouting about what was happening and what they should do or how they could try to stop it. People started to get everything out of their houses worried that their house would be next. It was a few days until it happened again, only this time it was different...

My grandmother used to tell me stories of when the land was not the sky, of when there was happiness and no one lived in fear of their fate. Of when the people of the land once lived in a place called Earth that was full of love, hope and truth. But now there is only suffering. Only pain. Only fear. My name is Malyn, meaning little warrior. Today I am 13. Today my Grandmother was taken. Today my parents were taken. Today was taken. This very morning my family's farm was drawn to the summit and to be disintegrated, to The Great Galanos Cube called Fujakie, but I will save them, all of them. 


My name is Malyn, meaning little warrior. But today I am not little. Today I am 13 and today I change my name. To a name of hope. To a name of greatness. To a name that will go down in history.My name is now Maia meaning brave warrior and I will save mankind.


“What are you doing?”

“NoneOne of your beeswax.”

“Oh, is little Malyn writing in her diary?”

“My name is not Malyn, you know when you turn 13 you can change your name. You changed yours 24 times on your birthday!”

“Ok. What do I call you then?”

“You call me Maia. It means brave or confident unlike the name Cole. Or Mr Cabbage farmer. Ha!”

Sorry. That was Cole, my 16 year old brother. He's sulking in his bedroom. He wanted his name to be Michael, which means god but the clock struck midnight before he could change it from Cole. Ha! 

Now back to me going on a perilous journey over the Dark Path and not the Rainbow bridge to the centre of the Once Land where I must defeat Fujakie but not touch him or any of his Galanos Cube guards while closing the Gate of Fate so that the land floats back to where it came from all while risking my life. That sounded A LOT easier in my head. Sigh.

The clouds soared underneath like stones skimming on the calm water of a lake, the lightbulb that was the sun shone down and cut at the grass like a soft knife. A light breeze made the trees sway slightly and the water in the river splashed up onto the bank as a small fish jumped out of the water. Despite all this, the only sign of habitation was a large creaky barn on one of the smaller islands. 

Tiny dots scattered the empty sky. Islands. Hundreds of them. Just green blobs from here. But, in a few hours, they will have wound their way downwards towards this centre island. As the blue, blue sky slowly turned orange and then to a deep, deep purple, bright stars started to appear. Bright bulbs just like the sun which had just disappeared behind the line of clouds below. Everything was free here. Free to fly, and float and run and swim and do whatever they want. For the gravity was low up here and therefore the islands floated. 

The year was 123894, 121003 years had passed since the Earth was set free. The last of the humans had perished after pollution had been taken too far. An Earthquake had ripped the land to pieces and the sun had started to expand. The moon had been taken by the star and turned in a planet. And the Earth’s gravity had decreased by 75%. 

All was thought to have gone wrong... 

But was this right?  

Suddenly, a low rumbling sound began beneath the lush grass that surrounded the island. Next, the ground started to shake with such a force that it started to break off from the isle. Creak! A huge chunk of the land was completely separated from the island. It contained a large brick house and barn, dotted with animals grazing obliviously. Trees big and small outlined the now miniscule island that had started floating up and down. Floating. Yes, It seemed like the tiny piece of land did not go crashing down beneath the clouds, into to endlessly rolling waves like it should of done. It was floating. It was defying the laws of gravity. 


On the original island (now missing a large chunk of it), stood a small girl. She had witnessed the whole thing and was so shocked it was like her mouth had dropped to the ground. She watched the hovering island with wide eyes, and wondered what in the world had happened to her home. Eventually, she noticed that her small farm along with the animals was now drifting away rather quickly. There was no way she could get her home back now. Leaving her wondering where would she go now...



After several hours of hell, being tossed hither and thither, not knowing whether death was better than such than such trauma and harriement, it all ceased. I blinked. Was I lamented? I decided against that, since I felt the pain in my head where it had pummeled against the hard floor of my abode.

I pushed myself upwards and opened the threshold. I felt nausea rush to my head. Where the lilacs, tulips, roses and earth, hallowed earth had once been was nothing. Pure, empty, abysmal nothing. Vertigo. That was the one word that came to the tummulting thoughts of my plagued mind. Vertigo.

I laggardly stepped on to the veranda, and sat bow-leggedly on a stool. I explored my thoughts. There were definitely certain advantages of floating through the air like a demented bird. For one, I would no longer have to worry about thieves breaking in to my house, and vandals trying to disfigure it. Yes, everything would be fine, thought I adamantly. Food, would be a prodigious issue, but I could attempt to plant some of the god-forsaken old seeds I had locked in my cupboard, for if I was ever challenged with a circumstance like the one that was staring me dead-on in the face.

I stood up and started to pace around like an animal lining it’s cage. Water would be simple enough to come by, all I had to do was collect some when it rained, and for the matter of electricity, there was palpably no solution, and as for the drawback of thinner air, I could use the little water, and electricity produce by cycling to perform electrolysis. Every major downside to life in the skies had been answered. But then, I experienced a sharp pain all over my body, and worried the occurrence that had caused this abnormality would begin again, before I woke up, another world away, drenched in a thick line of sweat, panting like a hound.

“Bang Bang Bang,” came a knock from the door.

Who could that be, knocking on my door at this hour,” grunted Harry as he stretched up out of his warm cosy bed cold morning air biting at him like an unfed piranha. His feet thudded upon the wooden stairs echoing across the walls of this old brick abode. 

“Bang Bang Bang,” came the clunk of this impatient traveller again.

“All right all right,” Shouted Harry now sliding his key into the lock, flakes of rust gliding gracefully onto the cream carpet like a fragment of an autumn leaf. He swung the metal door open half intending to knock this irritating persisting stranger out so he could fall back asleep.


 “What do you want,”groaned Harry not taking into account the unusual  appearance of this strange human. After a few seconds of silence the woman (who’s gender Harry noticed after perring up at her long, straight golden hair spoke,

“ I am here on behalf of the king of the globe and I hereby order you to return to the land of which you were born, Chinyay”



Harry’s face darkened “I can't and I won't,” so with that he slammed the door shut and strode into the kitching a warm tear forming in the corner of his green eyes. “The past is meant to be forgotten” he called over his shoulder “I'm not going back, not after what they did to me. So leave me alone to live out my life and die in peace.”


The figure that had spoken to Harry was Eyopia a sargent , well respected, of the Chinya police. She was in uniform, a tight black suite covering her body sewn together with a milky white stitching. She stood still facing the closed door helmet in hand. Persuading Harry Escovaar would not be easy.


There was a loud crack and my head started to perform a jumpy Viennese Waltz. I couldn’t work out whether it was actually spinning or if I was imagining it. I thought about what could be happening when suddenly, an idea flew into my head. No. Could it be? I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I settled on throwing up.


I thought about it some more. Would it stop? Could it stop? I was starting to wish I lived in a world where this couldn’t happen, when it seemed to do just that. I was jolted back onto my feet. I was back in my common room, as if nothing had happened. Was this actually happening or was I dreaming? I looked out of my window and sure enough, my house was on a floating island. How was I back on my feet? Was this part of the magik? Many islands had broken away in the past and it seemed natural, but I knew otherwise…


It was magik. I was certain. I decided to go outside. I knew that it was physically impossible to fall off and was entirely safe. How did I know this? I didn’t. But it wasn’t a guess: Why would there be functioning smoke holes and light jars on inside others’ houses if it was so easy to fall into the awaiting arms of dæth? I traced my fingers along the edge of the island and felt a surprisingly smooth cut. Why was it like that? Magik isn’t smooth like the coarse knife of Natura.

This was odd. Not odd on the magikal spectrum, too odd.