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The Zing of Kebraland: 39 Steps (con’t)

(we come back to see Princess Alzira still bound in the bottom of a large well)

.        “Alzira…Alziiiiiiira…..Princessss….”

A faint lyrical voice was calling, calling this strange yet beautiful name: Alzira. Princess Alzira… Why did it seem like the voice was calling me? In this dream was I a princess?  Was the Alzira they were calling?”

” HEY GOOFY! WAKE UP BEFORE THEY KILL YOU!!”

.  That did the trick! My eyes snapped open, angrily!

“Was that YOU Tiny?”I grumbled, “You ruined a perfectly good dream! I was a Beautiful Zebra princess, wearing a purple cloak-with a CROWN!!! A CROWN!!!! I had a lovely name too, Albira? Almima?  Jemima-no, no….”

“Listen Goofy, and be quiet, would you please? Now is not the time for dreams…you are in DANGER!!”

.  “What are you talking about?” I tried to get up but realized I was bound leg and leg, and leg and leg. It all rushed in on me; “THE MICE!! Those awful MICE!!! 

Now I whispered, “Where are they Tiny? Did you eat them? Can you cut these ropes?”

.  “Whoa, whoa now, big filly! One thing at a time… The Men of Mice can’t Hurt you… They are Mice, after all.”

.  ” But they have tools , and ropes , and there are soooo many!” 

.  ” Goofy… I mean Princess Alzira…”

.  “So, that is my name? I am a princess?” I tried not to be gabberflasted, I mean flabbergasted, but thwais was monumental news. I was having a hard time whispering, I really wanted to shout, to scream, to run away! “Please Tiny, untie me, help me climb out of here. I feel like I’m going mad…who am I?  Is this why the Zing sent me. Am I the Great Zing’s daughter!?  Please say that isn’t so…he’s so, so goofy!”

” He definitely is that! No, he is your Uncle. Uncle Dweeble. And he is not the true king. Your Father, Zad the Zadmirable is the real Zing of Kebraland! And your dear Mummy, she is Zolla the Zootiful, the Queen by his side. Your blood is as blue as the the water of the Great River that flows thru the zenter of Kebraland. Oh, boy, now you’ve got me talking funny…Well, there you have it, Princess, proof positive. Now I can untie you. I didn’t want you to hurt me when you were told… ”

.  ” I’m still going to Hurt you…now can you please untie me? I have to get out of here and get to the abyss!!! We only have 50 days left!!”

.  ” Yes, Your Highness… ”

.  With that the ropes seemed to evaporate, and I tried to leap to my feet like the great Personage that I was! Aaaannnd, I teetered, and I tottered…..and I crumbled in a heap!

. “HA!! That was funny!!!!”

.  I whipped my head around, flinging Tiny off head over tailfeathers, and seeing now the top dog of the Mice!!! He was bigger than his comrades , by about a pound, looking much more like a rabid hamster in a fat suit, than a mouse. And rather than a toolbelt He was wearing a holster with what looked like a tiny Colt of pure silver.

.  ” Tiny! What do I do now? ”

.   ” Find your Sea Legs and Climb!!! CLIMB PRINCESS, CLIMB THE STEPS!!!” 

.  Tiny was flying in a rage, all around the head of the Bloated Hamster, ruining his aim…

I again leapt to my feet, steadier now, and began running in circles looking for a hoof hold…Steps! Tiny said steps!!! And there they were, but they were so little! I had to try, so I kept saying over and over, “I AM A PRINCESS, I AM A PRINCESS (step 1 thru four zipped by…) I AM A PRINCESS! (8 thru 12 now gone) I AM A PRINCESS!! (now steps were passing in a blur..) PRINCESS! PRINCESS!! PRINCESS!!! (the light was now streaming into the shaft!) P-R-I-N-CESSSSSS!!!!

.   As I took the 39th Step I burst out of the well with Tiny riding triumphantly on my head with wings in the air, in a big WOOOOSH of wind and feathers!!

brown rock formation
Photo by Marco on Pexels.com

. My hooves hit the dirt and away we dashed, me galloping, faster than ever before, my hooves barely touching the earth, my thoughts only on saving Mom and Dad, and the beautiful Zingdom of Kebraland!!!

.   (hold your breath for the next installment, coming soon!! )

 

 

.                                      c. The Great Zing of Kebraland, by Susan T. Martin

 

By Susan T. Martin

I am an Artist, Poet and Author. A Survivor of Violent Sexual Abuse and Rape, I have lived thru Severe Domestic Violence, Twenty Three years of Addiction and Alcoholism, Family Dysfunction, Chronic Pain, Dependence on Opioids, and 2 Venomous Snake Bites...I have Been Stabbed, Shot at, Tied to a Tree and Choked Unconscious. A Quarter Horse Rolled on Me, as did a Lawn Tractor. I also Wrecked a Harley into a Tree! I also have PTSD and Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder, and spent my 18th birthday in a Locked Psychiatric Ward. I am so much more than this: I feel like a tiny seed that sprouted in a desert, and now has grown into a Passion Vine. My Art is my Voice, Screaming, Crying, Praying, Loving, Laughing, Healing- all in Riotous Color...