Present: Jabberwocky War, London
J ack’s nod is the sign we agreed upon. Without thinking, and knowing this will be the death of me, I glide down the Jabberwocky’s forehead, stab him in one eye, blotches of blood splattering back on my face while Jack continues his part.
The Jabberwocky screams in agony while Jack jumps off of his hand and into the open mouth of the beast.
My plan is to pull the sword back and follow Jack, and I do, but the Jabberwocky’s pain makes him move violently while his roars deafen me.
I tumble and almost fall off the edge of his nose while Jack shouts, “Here! Take my hand.”
“Go in first!” I tell him in case I can’t make it.
“I think you have to stab the other eye,” Jack says. “His gut is still on fire.”
I scramble back, hardly balancing upon the angry beast’s face and stab the other eye.
This drives the Jabberwocky crazy. Not only is he shaking his enormous head but his whole body. I can easily fall off now.
Irrationally, I decide to run down his face and figure an acrobatic way to jump down into his open mouth.
Foolish, I slip and now I’ll fall…
But Jack’s hands catch me, and my own other hand grips my sword harder.
“Gotcha!” Jack says and pulls me up.
The Jabberwocky’s mouth looks like the entrance to hell.
“We have to risk it,” Jack says. “Or he will bite us with his fangs. It’s only a few seconds and his gut will cool down. He can’t keep the fire when his eyes are bleeding.”
“Jack,” I shout against the noises, especially the kid’s voices filling the air all around. “If we don’t make it, please remember me the next time.”
He smiles, “Funny how I’ve never forgotten you, even though I forget me.”
And then he pulls me inside.