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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2104103-The-Island-of-WDC
by Angel
Rated: E · Short Story · Entertainment · #2104103
A flight in a balloon over Writing Dot Com
It is the day of the balloon ride. I'm a little scared because I'm afraid of heights, however, there is a little excitement mixed with the fear. It will be the first time I'll be able to see the amazing land of WDC from above all in one go. I've visited so many places on the island but I've never seen it like this. I have to wonder what all those different places will look like.

I climb into the basket of the multi-coloured balloon and before long it begins to rise into the sky. I find my knees a little weak as the ground begins to shrink below me. We drift quietly across the water to the island of WDC, not taking long, soon I see a patchwork of colour ahead of me. The first patch I see are the misty green and brown stripes of the Village of "BLINK! where all the glimpses live, the parts of people's stories that emerge and drift away again into the mist. Next door, the mist of Blink becomes thicker, turning into fog, it's where all the dreamers go in Out of the Fog; ("Out of The Fog Contest CLOSED FOR NOW) where stories are told from dreams.

As we travel on the fog clears, colours below become bright again with a cubed patch coloured black, yellow, red and blue, this can only be the town of "PersonITfication -on HIATUS from 1/12/19 with its angular look it's the story place of the inanimate object. Who knew that objects could talk to us, could tell stories of things that we don't see, the vase on the shelf, a mirror on the wall, or even the bookcase. It's an unusual world here in WDC. We begin to glide over the next patch, the sky below gets darker, a storm is brewing, dark clouds are gathering and lightning is sparking, this is an unusual place called Stormy's Newsletter ("Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest) where poetry resides and is published and sent across WDC. Next door the storm dies away but a darkness sits over the ground like a fog, I'm guessing this is "SCREAMS!!! City with its dark stories drifting into the atmosphere. The balloon itself seems to quiver as we pass over.

I look past the dark and I can see a golden light, it shines gloriously and I see that we're preparing to land. This is the Gold, Rising Stars balloon landing station. I join my fellow Rising Stars here who have been on their own personal Balloon ride and this is a chance for us to stop in the café for a drink and snacks. We discuss the places we've seen, what they looked like; it's interesting that while talking, we realise that some of us have seen the same places, yet each saw the places differently, through the eyes of creativity we each see things from a different perspective.

So to the second half of my journey, fully fed with cream tea, I climb back into my balloon again and off we go into the sky once more. We whizz past four places in a row so quickly I nearly missed them, four tiny villages made up one area, the first looked like a notebook, this was "Invalid Item the next, tiny houses dotted in such a way, they looked like scribbles, like small writing, this had to be "Tweet Me a Story. Following this could be seen the occasional flash of lightning, no storm just the lightning, this was Flash Fiction ("Daily Flash Fiction Challenge) and finally, the last village had black soil and white houses making it look like a Blackboard, this was "The Writer's Cramp.

In the silence, as we wafted through this amazing place, so clear, in such a basic form of air travel I thought I heard music, I was sure I was imagining it but then I saw it, musical notes floating up towards us, they floated around us, they were rising from two places, a town, "Musical Drabble - SUSPENDED FOR NOW where they love their music and are inspired to write from it, the other a tiny village, a part of a much larger town is the Team GB PWW Coffee Shop Campfire where they just love to share music, it is part of the Town of "Project Write World a place to write from your roots, from your own culture. It's a little weird to watch actual notation waving past my head, it is, however, soon left behind as we come upon a beautiful multi-coloured place, that even from here can be seen brimming with nature. So many variations of greens and browns interspersed with the colours of so many flowers, tiny dots like variegated fireflies. This is The Verdant Village ("Verdant Poetry Contest), always a little verse from nature here, a refuge in a world of fast-paced work, with little rest at times. Alongside this, nestled almost unseen is another village boasting a great hall of knowledge with unusual tales. It's well renowned as the Bard's Hall ("The Bard's Hall Contest). I know I'm nearing the end of my journey now as I can see the ocean again, ahead of me I see a place lined with craggy rocks but upon these rocks stands a lighthouse, I, of course, recognise this straight away. A place to light the way in the darkness, the City of Lighthouse Poetry ("The Lighthouse Poetry Contests). Alongside it, a place where the wind can be heard if you stand still long enough to hear it is the town of "Whispers Of The Soul These are two beautiful areas, they can both be rough or calm depending on the day, but each is a glimpse into the person, a look into who they really are.

It is now time for me to return home, I ponder on the colours of the patchwork quilt that has laid beneath me, on the textures that I've seen and felt, storms, fog, clouds, beautiful nature and the more inward things such as notebooks and writing. Each has their place on this beautiful island and there are still places for me to explore, it's growing too, of course, it has to, to accommodate all who live there and all the visitors. Wow, what a day it's been. Maybe I can do it again one day when I've explored just a little more of WDC.

Angel


© Copyright 2016 Angel (angelglory at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2104103-The-Island-of-WDC