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Wednesday, 2 July 2014

Weekly Writing Challenge: The Death of a Jabberwock

If you’re not moved by any of these stories, write about inspiration in general.Where do you find it? Who is your muse?

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

I do not really do inspiration. I write for the fun of writing. I do not have a muse, I am I, me and myself, but I can be fascinated by something. I read a lot, some books I love, others are ok and there might be something that stays. How can anyone be inspired by a nonsense poem, Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll, but I am.

The thought of a slithy tove , finding its way through the murkiness of a wabe. Not only did it squirm, worm its way along, but it was gyring and gimbling. Imagine the moment of inspiration of this strange animal. It was not slimy, but slithy. Naturally there was an obstacle in the way, not an oak tree, or even a hawthorne, no, it was a borogove. We all know how a borogove can be an interference. If you take a walk in a wabe and your path if blocked by something indefinable, something large and above all mimsy, then it can destroy your honest intentions. You are now attacked by a mome rath outgrabing, its vines entwining your legs, and bringing you to a fall. Oh the problems when on a Jabberwock hunt.

You are warned by your father to beware, there is a Jabberwock hiding in the undergrowth. It might even be riding a slithy tove, but no problem. If you have a vorpal sword in your hand, this is a protection against all Jabberwocks as well as a Jubjub bird and the indelible, horrific, frumious Bandersnatch. It might even be that the Jabberwock has sharpened his teeth and claws, they bite and scratch, hanging onto your armoured clothing.

The Jabberwock is a crafty foe, even manxome and is not something to be taken on the light shoulder. The hunter was tired carrying such a heavy vorpal sword and decided to rest. Did he lean on the trunk of an oak tree? No, he was a clever hunter. He thought about the problem. The Tumtum tree gave him protection and relaxation whilst dealing with the trouble and was food for the brain. A Jabberwock is not something to be taken on the light shoulder.

Suddenly it appeared charging out of the tulgey forest, his eyes glowing red and he could smell its whiff of burbling. Jabberwocks tend to burble with nauseating side effects.  They cannot hide, they smell, especially when moving. Our hero did not hesitate, it was now or never and so he thrust with his vorpal sword, up and down, from side to side. Vorpal swords are the best thrusting weapons you can have. Our hero was so sure of himself, he did not even decapitate the monster, he knew it was dead and there was no point. He did not need a head as proof of the slaughter, his clothes were covered in green blood. He immediately returned to his father in a galumphing gallop. The success of the mission was sure.  “At last” said the father, he was ecstatic. The son had killed the Jabberwock. He did not know whether to laugh or cry, such happiness. No longer would the wood be threatened by the Jabberwock. In the meanwhile the Jubjub bird flew to the Bandersnatch and grimpled in his ear of the passing of the Jabberwock..

The Bandersnatch was grinnged, champly plonked by the news, and fraggled to a momrath, hoping for help. Without a Jabberwock there was no hope. The Bandersnatch and the Momrath searched for a Kloggle. It was the only chance. The Kloggles had gone, they were plamed by the abscence of a Jabberwock. Many years later a baby Jabberwock was found in the Wabe. He was clonking and bleething,. A Kloggle returned and found the baby Jabberwock , so he drew his vorpal sword and ……… - to be continued?

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