In search of the Writer
‘Where’s the writer?’ echoed the Artist, scratching his head. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m never entirely sure. You’ll have to look. Personally, I’d start over there.’ He waved his paintbrush in the direction of the white space beyond the painted sea.
‘Oh…’ Milly felt frightened.
The Artist’s little girl came over to her.
‘Don’t be scared,’ she said kindly. ‘Take the dog with you… He’s very good at looking for things.’
‘Of course,’ said her father. ‘That’s exactly what you must do. Just make sure you send him back when you’ve found what you’re looking for.’
‘Will he know the way?’ asked Moley.
‘He always knows the way!’ said the Artist. ‘He is a very wise dog.’
The Artist got up and wandered back to Colin’s campfire (which, interestingly, Colin had coloured purple) and started to sketch a guitar.
The Minimice stood up, feeling rather sad that their beautiful day was at an end, and slightly nervous that a big adventure was about to begin.
The little girl and the dog walked with them to the edge of the sand, to the bit where the sea hadn’t been totally coloured in.
‘Start from here?’ she suggested. ‘Diego, go and look after them, and help them to find the Writer. Then they can go home.’ The dog gave her a nudge with his nose, as if to say, ‘Of course. What else do you suppose I was going to do…?’
The Minimice inched out onto the white page. Would it hold them? They might just fall into a space – and not one of them had brought their spacesuit! (Colin thought wistfully about the spaceman from a story he had been reading recently. Perhaps if he asked the Artist nicely, he could draw some of that space kit… )
The surface was solid! They breathed a collective sigh of relief and turned to wave.
‘Good bye! Good luck!’ called the Artist and his little girl.
The last the Minimice saw of them, they were sitting singing sea shanties by the fire, the Artist playing the guitar.
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