Cloud-cuckoo-land Chapter 2.

Chapter Two.

Head in the clouds.

He opened the front door and peered out. The street that should have been there was definitely missing, as was the pavement. The concrete path that went along the front of the house was still there. Beyond that, though, it was just grey under a bright blue sky with a few wispy clouds.

Carefully, he closed the front door and went to the back door. The concrete path was there, but the garden had been replaced by the same sort of grey covering. There were no houses in view either, just the same bright blue sky.

Lemmy scratched his head, forgetting about the bump. “Ouch,” he said as he accidentally touched it.

Gingerly, he stepped out onto the concrete path. He followed it all the way around the house. “This is very odd,” he thought. No other houses, no garden, and no sound either.

When he reached the back door again, he stood and looked at the grey area in front of him. Slowly, he pressed one foot onto it. It felt solid enough.

“It is quite safe, you know,” said a voice from somewhere at his waist height.

That made him jump. He looked down. Standing by his side was a large bird, a very large bird. Lemmy stepped back inside the house.

“There is nothing to be afraid of,” said the bird. “Welcome to my land.”

“Wh‑who are you?” stammered Lemmy. He found it rather worrying to be talking to a large bird.

“Me?” replied the bird. “I am the one and only Cloud Cuckoo, and this is my land. This is Cloud Cuckoo Land. You are most welcome.”

“Er, er, thank you,” said Lemmy, a bit at a loss as to what he ought to say.

“Pleasure,” said the bird. “Now, we have a great need for you. There is a major problem in the middle of the land and only you can fix it.”

“Me?” squeaked Lemmy. “I don’t know anything about fixing problems. My mum says I am only good for causing them.”

“Be that as it may,” said the bird. “There is a problem, and no‑one who lives in Cloud Cuckoo Land can fix it. It has to be someone from down below, and you are the only one from there who is in my land at the moment.”

“Down below?” asked a very puzzled Lemmy.

The bird pointed to the grey stuff with its wing. “Down below,” it said. “Now are you going to help or what?”

Lemmy shrugged his shoulders. “If I can help, I will, but don’t blame me if I make things worse. What exactly is the problem?”

“In the middle of Cloud Cuckoo Land is a Great Grandfather clock. Something has gone terribly wrong with it and it is going backwards. If you listen carefully, you can hear it.”

Lemmy put his hands behind his ears and strained to hear. From the far, far distance came the sound of a clock ticking. Or tocking, as the case may be. It really was going backwards. Instead of saying ‘tick‑tock’, the Great Grandfather clock was saying ‘tock‑tick’.

“I don’t know anything about clocks,” he protested.

“You could at least come with me and look at it,” said the bird. “We are terribly worried that when it reaches zero o’clock, Cloud Cuckoo Land will disappear. When the clock began to go backwards, I went and looked at the time table.”

“Time table?” asked Lemmy. “Like the ones in the bus station that say when buses are due and where they are going?”

“The time table here tells when everything is going to happen,” replied the Cuckoo.

“Useful,” said Lemmy.

“Not really,” said the Cuckoo. “The time table is very complicated and hard to read. It just showed that I had to find someone from Down Below to fix the clock.”

“Does the time table show that I managed to do it?” asked Lemmy.

“No,” said the Cuckoo. “Sadly it just goes blank. We really need your help.”

“All right,” said Lemmy. “I will do my best. How do we get to the clock?”

“Follow me,” the bird ordered. It walked off onto the grey stuff. Nervously, Lemmy followed. When he did not sink or fall through, he felt a lot more confident.

When they had gone a little way, they came across a line of carriages. To Lemmy’s amazement, they looked like a line of gravy boats, exactly like the ones his mother always put on the table with Sunday lunch.

“Climb in,” said the bird as it got into one of the boats.

Lemmy followed, feeling relieved that it was not actually full of gravy. “What is this?” he asked.

“This is the Gravy Train,” replied the bird. “You are very lucky. Lots of people would really like to get on the Gravy Train.”

With a jerk, the train began to move.

“But how does it go?” asked Lemmy. “I don’t remember seeing an engine.”

“It goes without saying,” replied the bird.