Pending Arrival

The aeroplane is ready for take off, ready to fly me to another unknown destination. The cabin is warm, snug althought quite messy with toddler toys strewn about. Surely it's a safety hazard? Abort. There's a missing child. The child isn't on the plane. "This is your Captain speaking," comes the faint crackling voice, "This flight has suffered a setback. The plane will be taxied into the terminal to commence boarding of missing passengers. There will be a significant delay and we ask you to remain seated until further direction. We thank you and apologise for the inconvienience."

Children are crying. Dogs are barking. It's getting awful stuffy in here.

"Come and help us!" a woman in brown beseeches, "We must find this child. This flight has to arrive at the destination!"

It's dark outside the cabin. Wind has started to howl, rain whipped down, a storm was threatening. What happened to the sun, to the clear day? As if the woman in brown read my thoughts, she pulled me down the aisle and off the plane. "No time to ponder on life's mysteries, dear, we have work to do. Here, take this doll and follow me."

The terminal was bustling with frantic passengers and equally as frantic Airport staff. So hot in here, I thought. There were bags of luggage left haphazardly next to the luggage carosels and in front of empty counters. Where are we going?

The woman in brown led me through a food court full of college students and blue-collared workers. Why are they all here? Sniffing the air, my stomach craved cheeseburgers and fries. "No. No time. We have work to do," came the seemingly telepathic woman in brown. We came upon a doorway although it was blocked by revelling Irishmen and an old Swaggie. The woman in brown somehow disappeared through the door, leaving myself facing these men and trying to get past.

"What's this you're trying to pull?" one asks.
"You'll never get out," said another.
"I've been out bush for months on end, searching for sacred things, searching for the wisdom lost from Abe's men for many years before mine," came the voice from the old Swaggie. "You'll find it. Aye, that much is true. It's not in the barrel here nor on the dartboard over there. Go, you have to hurry, there are wings waiting to take you."

"Thank you, bless you Sir!" I called graciously as I pushed past the Irishmen. The woman in brown was waiting. A little impatient. Tapping her feet and clucking her tongue.

We are walking barefoot on sand. There is a cool, crisp breeze sighing past my cheeks and through my hair. Children are laughing. Dogs are panting. Birds fluttering gaily to and fro. A parrot splashed with brilliant greens and purples seemed to take a liking to me and landed on my shoulder, refusing to budge. There is a little girl underneath the shade of a white umbrella.

"Over there," the woman in brown points.

I saunter towards the girl. She is about four or five years of age, soft light hair in pigtails, dressed in ribbons and an impish grin. Dark green eyes look up at me and strikes the heart of my soul. I offer the doll to her.

She stands, takes the doll with one hand and slides the other into mine. Well this is easy, I thought as we walked along the beach towards the door. Where's the door?

"Hey wait! We need to get back, where is the door?" I ask turning to face the woman in brown. She's gone. My heart sinks. I'm left on a strange beach with a missing child. This can't be good.

To be continued...