tapes dangling from its body and as it flew over Alex grabbed the end of one of these ribbons, expecting to pull the creature to a halt. However, it didn’t jerk to a halt, but almost pulled Alex off his feet. Alex quickly tied the end of the ribbon to his mast and stepped back, hoping for the best.
The flying dragon, roaring to bolster its strength, pulled hard. Gradually the raft began to leave the swirling waters of the vortex into which it was being dragged. With Alex encouraging his saviour, the raft was eventually pulled clear of the whirlpool’s clutches and out of danger. Until now most of the animated objects of the attic had been hostile. But here was one, like Punch and Judy, which seemed only too glad to help. The attic, like anywhere else, had good and bad about it. Alex was growing fonder of the place all the time.
Once he was clear he released the dragon’s tapes and the creature continued on its journey to an unknown destination.
‘I must not fall asleep again so soundly,’ Alex told himself. ‘I was lucky that time. Next time I may not be. I have to remain alert.’
The trouble was, he was alone, and had to sleep sometimes.
Over the next day or so, Alex met with more of the brown fisherfolk he had encountered earlier. They were almost always cheerful, waving to him, shouting greetings. Once or twice he traded with them for food, his store of paperweights standing him in good stead. There was one time when a sullen one passed by his craft, rowing a canoe fashioned from half a car roof-rack pod, who refused to acknowledge him, but this was a rare occurrence. For the most part they were a delightful race of people, who seemed only too eager to make contact and help if at all possible.
Alex did of course fall asleep again – he had to rest – but nothing untoward happened to him.
One evening he was enjoying what appeared to be an aurora borealis, the northern lights of the attic. They seemed to have been produced by the moonlight shining through the bevelled edges of skylight windows. The cut glass acted like a prism, splitting the white light into its natural colours, which in turn were sent in ribbons into the atmosphere of the attic. Outside, the wind was blowing, rattling the windows, thus making the bands of colours ripple, twist and wave, producing movement. The northern lights of the attic were almost as wonderful and mystical as the real aurora borealis.
It was as he was watching that he felt a slight movement beneath his feet. He looked down at his raft. It had not been a wave or the swell. Something had touched the craft underneath. He glanced over the side and his eyes widened. There, passing below his vessel, was the largest snake – or eel – he had ever seen. It was a monster, but he was relieved to see that it wasn’t the Loving Flounder. This creature was as thick as the belly of a jumbo jet and moving silently and effortlessly through the water. At the front end it had huge jaws, partly open, which revealed a thousand sharp white teeth. At the other end – well, Alex couldn’t even see the other end – but he could see enough to know it was finned.
It took an age for the serpent to pass under him and when it was gone Alex was still standing there, watching where it had been, long and green like a deep-sea current made manifest. The episode sent a chill through him. There were monsters in these waters he had not been told about, yet perhaps very few knew of them. The bortrekker and board-comber might never have come across them. And even the fisherfolk might have only legendary tales instead of actual experiences to go on. Maybe he was privileged to be one of the only humans to have witnessed such a monster?
‘I wonder why I don’t feel privileged,’ he said out loud.
‘I would, if I were you,’ interrupted Makishi. ‘It was an amazing sight.’
Makishi was perched on top of the mast. Alex had put him there after the incident with the maelstrom, to act as a lookout. So far he had seen nothing and could not be blamed for not warning of undersea monsters since his job was to watch for any potential problems on the horizon. His occasional remarks, such as