Everyone

Everyone else was asleep and the baby climbed out of his window and fell.

When his mother went to find him she put his bones into place and carried him wailing upstairs. He was furious, after having been put back together, not to have been allowed to carry out his plans of running away.

After all, it was a perfect day for it—the sky was cloudless and birdless and the oceans seemed to be stretching inward, as if kissing the shore was no longer enough and they yearned for much more.

His mother placed him in his cradle and closed the window. Once she was gone, he threw himself out of his cot and crawled out of his bedroom. He found the fire place in the library across the hall. So, into the ash and simmering logs he went and blew up out of the chimney, past the flames and smoke and once again into city air.

There, he was caught by a kite, flown by some foolish child somewhere, and off they soared, skirting the sky.

Down again—the kite shot like an arrow towards a park and the river running through it, and toppled him overboard to land with a splash. He sunk to the bottom, among anchors and forgotten tins, lost socks and overdue bills. Some fish swam past him and he followed them, not sure what else to do, down into the depths of coral caves and rocky passages filled with flirting mermen, when he was caught by a heron and lifted back up into the sky. But the heron, realising he would not be so tasty and juicy and scrumptious, dropped him just as fast.

The baby landed with a crash in the salt of the sea, among jellyfish and sharks. A scuba diver spotted him, bonked one of the sharks on its nose and picked him up. He took the baby up onto his boat.

The divers were robbed and ransacked then, by a ship full of pirates. The pirates took the gold and burnt the ship, and discovered they had looted the baby too, by mistake.

A decision had to be made; half of the crew were in favour of throwing him back overboard, a third suggested finding out what kind of ransom he’d fetch and the rest thought it might be fun to keep him.

The baby didn’t like any of these options, and was relieved when the captain said they’d keep him till they reached the shore, and then find out what he’d fetch.

They meant to take him to someone who would know what was what.

on the way there, to quench their thirst, they stopped at the tavern in town. while the men drank and talked, the baby slipped into a passing woman’s basket. The basket was full of flour and it was with some surprise he found himself tossed onto a baker’s table. Water, then, and yeast, and soon he was being kneaded and left to rest.

Baby found himself in the middle of a loaf, baked for an hour in the fire oven. Wrapped up in paper and propped up on a shelf, he could smell the heat and baked goods around him as he waited patiently, listening to buyers and beggars come and go.

”That one,” said a voice he knew, and found himself carried all the way home.

she took a knife and tore gently at the bread. The baby peered his head out at his mother, who took him out and put him back in his cot, again.