Chapter 43


All the monsters reared again,

As if competing to see when,

Which of them might drag away,

The final morsel of the day.

Hissing and slithering, slick in slime,

They struck together at one time,

And that would have been the end,

Of Poepilandia and her friends,

If she had not at that instant,

Found the hole and thrust hard in it,

The glowing stone with all her strength,

And curled up tight her body’s length.

The moment that the mapstone lit,

To the chink where it was fit,

In the cavern, all three monsters,

Froze stone still as hideous towers,

With positions they were in,

Before the mapstone was put in.

Huge heads low, vicious, gaping,

Venomous fangs, hooded, draping,

Eyes alive with anger flaming,

All at Poepi, looking, blaming.

But Poepi was too shocked to think,

From Gar’s fate, and she shrinked,

Away from monsters’ flaming gaze,

And back to floor slumped in a daze,

Where she huddled and she cried,

And wailed and moaned and thought to die.

Then the map stone’s light went out,

And no one heard her curse or shout,

Or saw her tears leave drippy marks,

Or heard sobs echo in the dark.

Nor did she hear the silent tick,

Below the floor of something tripped.

She stayed that empty way for long,

Measures of time in darkness gone,

When suddenly, once tears had stopped,

The gem stone echoed a quiet “pop!”

Then “pop!”and “pop!” and “pop!” and “pop!”

Down to the floor her ear she dropped,

Where lowly rumble began to grow,

Somewhere deep and down below,

Like gears grinding, levers pulling,

Until the floor slabs started moving!

One by one, slabs fell straight down,

With a slamming schmackety sound,

Each leaving there, an empty space,

To form a sunken stone staircase.

A yellow light, shone up too,

And Poepi knew not what to do,

But cautiously, still with her frown,

She took each step, slowly down,

To explore what might be there,

At the bottom of the stair.

Ten steps later, an iron gate,

Would not let her, perambulate,

On the stone steps any further,

Or greet what there might lurk to hurt her.

Five more gates in all she counted,

Strong and steel on staircase mounted,

And very very far below,

Shone the source of yellow glow.

She shook the gate with her hands,

It did not budge, as if its plans,

Were to stand put no matter what.

But then brave Poepi felt the gate,

Hit her palm hard on its plate,

And with a “clink!” and power flow,

Her magic bangle came aglow.

Its brilliant, yellow, pinkish, range,

Beautiful, and lovely strange,

Revealed also a tiny a lock,

In the gate’s middle, a dink shaped rock.

She laid her bangled hand upon it,

And instantly the locked lock lit.

Then just as she had mad been hoping,

The glowing gate swung wide open!

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