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CHAPTER ONE: WILBUR
One cold, snowy night, a small baby in a potato sack was left on the steps of an orphanage.
There was no name tag, no nothing.
Nothing to identify who this little person was.
His parents, whoever they were, were too poor to care for their infant son, and decided to leave him to be taken into an orphanage.
This was relatively common in 19th century London, as so many people were suffering and starving.
One of orphanage children heard the baby crying while they were dusting the doorway, and brought the child inside.
“Hey, Millicent, look. We’ve got another one.”
Millicent, the oldest and sort of the leader, sighed.
“Oh dear. Well, does it have a name tag?”
“No.”
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Uhhhh…” Droned the child, having a quick peek,
“It’s a boy.”
There was a pause as the 7 children packed into the one bedroom thought up a name.
“H-h-how a-about -A-A-A-Archibald?” Suggested a stuttering little boy, clutching a pillow.
“BLUURK!!” Went the baby, throwing up.
“Definitely not Archibald.” Sighed Millicent.
“Caspian?” Somebody said.
“What?!”
(This is a funny joke because the name “Caspian” had only been coined in the 21st century.)
“Ok. Well, how about Wilbur?”
Everyone looked at the baby.
The baby didn’t throw up.
And the baby was henceforth named Wilbur.
CHAPTER TWO: CRUELTY
The owner of the orphanage was a bitter old boot called Miss Mann.
The hairy woman had lost a lot of the hair on her head, but made up for it in the hair on her legs, arms, and face.
She would remind the onlooker of a gorilla crossed with a witch.
And boy, did she behave like one.
She treated the orphans terribly, giving them one little bowl of food every two days, and played horrible tricks on them.
A favourite of hers was to declare that there was a bug or a bit of dirt or something like that stuck in the spine of one of her massive hardcover books, and when the child would peer into the book, the old hag would slam the book shut so that the child’s nose got caught.
At Christmas, all the children would line up one by one to get used as target practise with big blocks of coal.
“You’ve been naughty children, and so Santa gave you this!!” Yelled Miss Mann as she hurled the coal at the children.
“ME ARM’S GETTING TIRED!”
Wilbur suffered all this and more.
He yearned so much to be completely free, out on the streets, doing whatever he wanted.
He decided that he was going to get his freedom. Some day, somehow…
Wilbur walked into the bedroom after a long day of chores. He was tired and hungry.
He snatched a smaller kid’s bowl.
The poor child was too frail and weak to fight back.
Wilbur sat down and ate.
Everybody else in the room stared at him in exasperation. Please, their expressions said.
Please stop.
Wilbur yawned and tucked in. It had emotionally hurt him badly the first time he did this, but he had grown thick skin.
Suddenly, Miss Mann burst in.
“YOU!!” She screeched, jabbing a finger at Wilbur.
“COME WITH ME!!” She grabbed Wilbur’s hair and yanked it so he stood up.
She quite literally pulled him by the hair to her bedroom.
“YOU CALL THIS PLACE DUSTED?!?!?!” She roared, her cheeks red.
Wilbur looked around the room.
There was dust absolutely everywhere, even though he had cleaned it earlier.
“Ummm…no?”
“INDEED!! I WANT YOU TO CLEAN THIS ROOM TEN TIMES OVER UNTIL YOU’VE DONE IT TEN TIMES OVER!!!!” Yelled Miss Mann.
Wilbur gave her a funny look.
“That’s what I said!” Growled Mann.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Well…Yeah!” Grumbled Miss Mann as she stalked out, obviously confused.
As soon as Miss Mann was gone, Wilbur went right over to the tiny window in her room and resumed chipping at it.
It created massive amounts of dust all over the floor.
Which was why it was so dusty in the first place.
Finally, Wilbur created a big enough hole for him to climb through.
But not just yet.
He rushed back into the dorms and grabbed a very large, very smelly metal bucket, full of dust, water, the sloppy, disgusting soup and just general muck from around the place.
He ran back into Miss Mann’s room.
“Miss Mann! Come quickly!”
The old woman pushed open the door.
“What do you wa-“
Her sentence was cut short by a wave of disgustingness that engulfed her.
“AAARGH!”
Wilbur leapt out of the window and landed head-first in a dumpster.
Lovely.
He jumped out, and made his escape into the cool night air.
He had done it.
He was free.
CHAPTER THREE: FREEDOM
Considering how vain and bitter Miss Mann was, Wilbur thought that she would chase him, so he ran as far away from the orphanage as possible.
He ran and ran and ran, and as he ran, the feeling of worry that Miss Mann would give chase faded away. He was free.
But then, when he was too puffed to go on and came to his senses a bit, everything around him was unfamiliar.
The buildings towered over him, and the dark alleys loomed threateningly, as if they would suddenly lunge forward and gobble him up.
His joy melted like an ice block dropped on the pavement, and he curled up into a ball where he was.
Suddenly, he heard voices, and the light thudding of shoes.
His heart leapt into his throat.
It must be Miss Mann.
Wilbur leapt into the air as if electrocuted and took off.
He couldn’t run for long, and he didn’t.
He had to hide.
There was a big, dark hole, with steps going down it.
It loomed at him, like a giant, gaping mouth, waiting for something to fall in.
Wilbur shuddered. But then he remembered Miss Mann and the beatings and the starvation and the work.
He jumped down the hole.
The hole was connected to a network of tunnels that were supported with wooden posts.
He even came across burnt-out lanterns and rickety railways as well.
He didn’t know it, but this was an abandoned mineshaft.
The mineshaft was cold and dark, and Wilbur was creeped out of his wits.
He sat down for a while.
Maybe Miss Mann would have gone by now.
Yes, probably.
Or…
SHE COULD BE SILENTLY CLOSING IN ON HIM AT THIS VERY MOMENT!!
Wilbur jumped up and ran.
Stumbling and panicking in the dark.
CLANK!!
What was that?
A falling pickaxe?
Good.
Go.
This went on for quite a while until he tripped over a railroad, and fell flat on his face.
He curled up into a ball and huddled in a corner.
He had no idea where he was.
He was lost underground.
CHAPTER FOUR: LOST
Wilbur sat in silence for a while. He almost longed for the rooms of the orphanage.
Sure, he was treated horribly, but at least he got food.
Almost anything was preferable to knowing that he would starve to death down here alone, in the dark.
Suddenly, he heard a faint humming noise.
Not like a person humming a tune, but a sort of humming, whirring sound.
He got up and followed his ears. Perhaps the humming noise lead to a way out.
Eventually, he came to a dead end.
But there was something in front of the dead end.
And that something scared the daylights out of Wilbur.
CHAPTER FIVE: THE FISSURE
It was a giant crack, just floating in the air.
It seemed to be leaking out some sort of glowing reddish-brownish-bluish material.
It seemed… out of place, like it wasn’t meant to be there, like vegetables on a birthday cake.
Almost otherworldly, like a big fissure in between dimensions.
It called to Wilbur, like a song.
One cold, snowy night, a small baby in a potato sack was left on the steps of an orphanage.
There was no name tag, no nothing.
Nothing to identify who this little person was.
His parents, whoever they were, were too poor to care for their infant son, and decided to leave him to be taken into an orphanage.
This was relatively common in 19th century London, as so many people were suffering and starving.
One of orphanage children heard the baby crying while they were dusting the doorway, and brought the child inside.
“Hey, Millicent, look. We’ve got another one.”
Millicent, the oldest and sort of the leader, sighed.
“Oh dear. Well, does it have a name tag?”
“No.”
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Uhhhh…” Droned the child, having a quick peek,
“It’s a boy.”
There was a pause as the 7 children packed into the one bedroom thought up a name.
“H-h-how a-about -A-A-A-Archibald?” Suggested a stuttering little boy, clutching a pillow.
“BLUURK!!” Went the baby, throwing up.
“Definitely not Archibald.” Sighed Millicent.
“Caspian?” Somebody said.
“What?!”
(This is a funny joke because the name “Caspian” had only been coined in the 21st century.)
“Ok. Well, how about Wilbur?”
Everyone looked at the baby.
The baby didn’t throw up.
And the baby was henceforth named Wilbur.
CHAPTER TWO: CRUELTY
The owner of the orphanage was a bitter old boot called Miss Mann.
The hairy woman had lost a lot of the hair on her head, but made up for it in the hair on her legs, arms, and face.
She would remind the onlooker of a gorilla crossed with a witch.
And boy, did she behave like one.
She treated the orphans terribly, giving them one little bowl of food every two days, and played horrible tricks on them.
A favourite of hers was to declare that there was a bug or a bit of dirt or something like that stuck in the spine of one of her massive hardcover books, and when the child would peer into the book, the old hag would slam the book shut so that the child’s nose got caught.
At Christmas, all the children would line up one by one to get used as target practise with big blocks of coal.
“You’ve been naughty children, and so Santa gave you this!!” Yelled Miss Mann as she hurled the coal at the children.
“ME ARM’S GETTING TIRED!”
Wilbur suffered all this and more.
He yearned so much to be completely free, out on the streets, doing whatever he wanted.
He decided that he was going to get his freedom. Some day, somehow…
Wilbur walked into the bedroom after a long day of chores. He was tired and hungry.
He snatched a smaller kid’s bowl.
The poor child was too frail and weak to fight back.
Wilbur sat down and ate.
Everybody else in the room stared at him in exasperation. Please, their expressions said.
Please stop.
Wilbur yawned and tucked in. It had emotionally hurt him badly the first time he did this, but he had grown thick skin.
Suddenly, Miss Mann burst in.
“YOU!!” She screeched, jabbing a finger at Wilbur.
“COME WITH ME!!” She grabbed Wilbur’s hair and yanked it so he stood up.
She quite literally pulled him by the hair to her bedroom.
“YOU CALL THIS PLACE DUSTED?!?!?!” She roared, her cheeks red.
Wilbur looked around the room.
There was dust absolutely everywhere, even though he had cleaned it earlier.
“Ummm…no?”
“INDEED!! I WANT YOU TO CLEAN THIS ROOM TEN TIMES OVER UNTIL YOU’VE DONE IT TEN TIMES OVER!!!!” Yelled Miss Mann.
Wilbur gave her a funny look.
“That’s what I said!” Growled Mann.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Well…Yeah!” Grumbled Miss Mann as she stalked out, obviously confused.
As soon as Miss Mann was gone, Wilbur went right over to the tiny window in her room and resumed chipping at it.
It created massive amounts of dust all over the floor.
Which was why it was so dusty in the first place.
Finally, Wilbur created a big enough hole for him to climb through.
But not just yet.
He rushed back into the dorms and grabbed a very large, very smelly metal bucket, full of dust, water, the sloppy, disgusting soup and just general muck from around the place.
He ran back into Miss Mann’s room.
“Miss Mann! Come quickly!”
The old woman pushed open the door.
“What do you wa-“
Her sentence was cut short by a wave of disgustingness that engulfed her.
“AAARGH!”
Wilbur leapt out of the window and landed head-first in a dumpster.
Lovely.
He jumped out, and made his escape into the cool night air.
He had done it.
He was free.
CHAPTER THREE: FREEDOM
Considering how vain and bitter Miss Mann was, Wilbur thought that she would chase him, so he ran as far away from the orphanage as possible.
He ran and ran and ran, and as he ran, the feeling of worry that Miss Mann would give chase faded away. He was free.
But then, when he was too puffed to go on and came to his senses a bit, everything around him was unfamiliar.
The buildings towered over him, and the dark alleys loomed threateningly, as if they would suddenly lunge forward and gobble him up.
His joy melted like an ice block dropped on the pavement, and he curled up into a ball where he was.
Suddenly, he heard voices, and the light thudding of shoes.
His heart leapt into his throat.
It must be Miss Mann.
Wilbur leapt into the air as if electrocuted and took off.
He couldn’t run for long, and he didn’t.
He had to hide.
There was a big, dark hole, with steps going down it.
It loomed at him, like a giant, gaping mouth, waiting for something to fall in.
Wilbur shuddered. But then he remembered Miss Mann and the beatings and the starvation and the work.
He jumped down the hole.
The hole was connected to a network of tunnels that were supported with wooden posts.
He even came across burnt-out lanterns and rickety railways as well.
He didn’t know it, but this was an abandoned mineshaft.
The mineshaft was cold and dark, and Wilbur was creeped out of his wits.
He sat down for a while.
Maybe Miss Mann would have gone by now.
Yes, probably.
Or…
SHE COULD BE SILENTLY CLOSING IN ON HIM AT THIS VERY MOMENT!!
Wilbur jumped up and ran.
Stumbling and panicking in the dark.
CLANK!!
What was that?
A falling pickaxe?
Good.
Go.
This went on for quite a while until he tripped over a railroad, and fell flat on his face.
He curled up into a ball and huddled in a corner.
He had no idea where he was.
He was lost underground.
CHAPTER FOUR: LOST
Wilbur sat in silence for a while. He almost longed for the rooms of the orphanage.
Sure, he was treated horribly, but at least he got food.
Almost anything was preferable to knowing that he would starve to death down here alone, in the dark.
Suddenly, he heard a faint humming noise.
Not like a person humming a tune, but a sort of humming, whirring sound.
He got up and followed his ears. Perhaps the humming noise lead to a way out.
Eventually, he came to a dead end.
But there was something in front of the dead end.
And that something scared the daylights out of Wilbur.
CHAPTER FIVE: THE FISSURE
It was a giant crack, just floating in the air.
It seemed to be leaking out some sort of glowing reddish-brownish-bluish material.
It seemed… out of place, like it wasn’t meant to be there, like vegetables on a birthday cake.
Almost otherworldly, like a big fissure in between dimensions.
It called to Wilbur, like a song.