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Blackwood, Algernon, 1869-1951

"A Prisoner in Fairyland"

Matter, they saw, was everywhere, though too
tenuous for any measuring instrument man's brain had yet invented.
'Come on!' he repeated; 'the Starlight Express is waiting. It will
take you anywhere you please--Ireland if you like!'
They found the others waiting on the smooth layer of soft purple air
that spread just below the level of the tree-tops. The crests
themselves tossed wildly in the wind, but at a depth of a few feet
there was peace and stillness, and upon this platform the band was
grouped. 'The stars are caught in the branches to-night,' a sensitive
walker on the ground might have exclaimed. The spires rose about them
like little garden trees of a few years' growth, and between them ran
lanes and intricate, winding thoroughfares Mother saw long, dark
things like thick bodies of snakes converging down these passage-ways,
filling them, all running towards the centre where the group had
established itself. There were lines of dotted lights along them. They
did not move with the waving of the tree-tops. They looked uncommonly
familiar.
'The trains,' Jimbo was crying. He darted to and fro, superintending
the embarking of the passengers.
All the sidings of the sky were full of Starlight Expresses.
The loading-up was so quickly accomplished that Mother hardly realised
what was happening.


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