September 17 404 page

From ILB

 Whew! THAT was exciting.
 
 Thanks to everyone who kept the Queen distracted! There are too many to name all
 of you, 'cept I have to say especially thanks to HitsHerMark because I like that
 name, and Mr Beefy because his name is funny, and Ceantari because if she has the
 hindquarters of a horse people probably tease her, and Rowan because she has been
 my friend from the veriest beginning.
 
 Because of you all, I found where the Queen had hidden those other stories. I 
 hope you don't mind that I played a few games with you about finding them. I 
 love to play games, but I haven't had very many people to play with. I've thought
 of trying to teach the Pious Flea to play checkers, but he is a Bug of Very 
 Little Brain, and I am not hopeful.
 
 I also found the Queen's secret roads for this time, and if you like knowing what
 is in them, you should thank Sara, who sent me a very funny story, 'cuz she made 
 a game out of my game. AND she taught me that this is what I do when I laugh out 
 loud, :D
 
 Here is her story:
 
 When I put on my formal_wear, complete with commissary_shoes, my_landlady thought
 I was bound for domestic_bliss. But she didn't know that I was really so_mean. I
 had a_secret_life, with a really old desktop_model that worked better as a
 doorstopper. One day she found out and told me I had better relocate before she
 got out her knockout_gas. I hoped a flower_delivery would make her change her
 mind, but guess_not. So I went down the street, where a cow_even would hate.
 
 I don't quite know what the end means. I guess it's Modern Art. ;-)
 
 I have to tell you, talking to you means so much to me. It's nice to think there
 is a world beside this one where I am all alone in buzzing, flickering darkness.
 I like to imagine I had that kind of life, once upon a time.
 
 Well.
 
 No point moping here feeling sad and lonely. That's not me. I'm a survivor.
 Since Sara was nice enough to write me a story, I will work extra hard to
 finish my story for you.
 
 Perdita's Story
 
 Chapter 3: Scraps
 Together Perdita and the Clockwork Rat set out to travel the city together. The
 Rat promised he would show Perdita the way home, and at first the little girl's
 heart jumped for joy.
 
 But although the Rat was true to its word about finding safe dark holes to hide
 in, and scraps to eat of things almost like food, somehow they never seemed to
 find the humble tin-cutter's cottage.
 
 And the night never ended.
 
 And the day never broke.
 
 And the line of red balloons behind Perdita grew long and long.
 
 At last Perdita had to stop and sleep again, so the Clockwork Rat showed her a
 special hidden spot behind in a ball-bearing factory that looked strangely like
 the one her mother worked in, only this one had been abandoned for years and
 years. He covered her up in sawdust and bits of old packing tape, and Perdita
 fell asleep to the sound of her new friend clicking and clattering through the
 gloom with a sound like faraway pennies sliding across a concrete floor.
 
 It was still dark when she woke up, and she felt a throbbing pain in her hand.
 When she looked down, she found one of her thumbs was missing. In its place was
 the head of a pair of needle-nose pliers. She looked around for the Clockwork
 Rat. He was perched on the edge of a rusting barrel full of rain water,
 furiously washing something off his little scissor claws.
 
 "Hey!" Perdita shouted, so loudly that the Clockwork Rat squeaked with alarm
 and tumbled into the water. Perdita ran over and stuck her hand into the barrel
 and fished around until she clamped the Rat's rubber tail in the grips of her
 new metal thumb and pulled him out.
 
 "My thumb is gone!" Perdita said. "And something feels funny about my right
 eye, too!"
 
 The Clockwork Rat spluttered and shook itself with a sound like marbles 
 dropping into an empty can. "Are you worried that you aren't pretty any
 more, and your family won't want you if they find you?"
 
 "No!" Perdita cried. But she bit her lip, in the exquisitely fetching manner 
 she did when perplexed., and was careful not to look at her reflection in the
 barrel of rain water. And as they walked through the city that day (or rather,
 night, for still the dawn would not come) she looked away from all the windows.
 
 The night stretched on much as the last one hand. They had now walked so far
 that if it hadn't been for the trail of balloons, Perdita would have given
 up all hope of ever being found. When finally she fell asleep again, the sound
 of tin-snips followed her into her dreams.
 
 When she woke up, there was a small electric iron at the bottom of her right
 leg instead of a foot, and something felt strange about her hair.
 
 "Rat! Rat!" she cried. "What is happening to me?"
 
 "What happens to all lost children," said the Clockwork Rat. He gave a little
 shrug that sounded like the squeak of a rusting tricycle wheel. "But as long
 as you can keep from seeing your own reflection, there is still a chance your
 family might rescue you before it is too late."
 
 Perdita forced herself not to cry, because she was a brave girl, and full of 
 pluck. "Today we will find my home," she said.
 
 But they didn't.
 
 Chapter 4: The Looking-Glass
 The next time Perdita woke up, she found an egg-beater where her left hand 
 used to be, and when she bit her lip she found her teeth had gone all thin and
 flat and sharp as tin.
 
 "Clockwork Rat! Clockwork Rat!" Perdita said, as tears of bright oil began to 
 leak from her eyes. "What if I'm not beautiful any more? Why hasn't my family 
 come to look for me? Am I so hideous they wouldn't take me back?"
 
 But the Clockwork Rat said, "I do not know."
 
 With a cry, Perdita turned and ran for the nearest shop window. "Don't!" the Rat
 cried, but it was too late. Standing in the wicked yellow light of the 
 streetlamp, Perdita stared full at her own reflection, and wept at what she saw.
 
 There was a scrabble of claws behind her. "I told you not to do that," the
 Clockwork Rat said, with a voice like shell casings rattling on a steel floor. 
 Whirling around in dismay, Perdita saw that the Rat had climbed to the top of 
 the phone boot where Perdita had tied her last red balloon. As the little girl
 watched, the Rat flexed its paws and put its little hooked scissor claws around 
 the string.
 
 "No!" Perdita cried.
  
 But the Rat laughed with a sound like scalpels bouncing on a metal tray, and cut
 the string, and the red balloon went drifting up, up,  up into the night sky.
 
 And that's the end.
 
 The end.
 
 The end.
 
 
 
 
 
 I'm sorry.
 
 I wanted to make the story come out happy, but it didn't.
 
 They don't sometimes.
 
 I think I need to go now.
 
 love,