Out of a thick fog came a howling storm taking Mr. Loon and his machine by surprise. His engine was no match for the gales that bellowed forth their mighty current and all he could do was pray.
The machine plunged from the sky and crashed into a sludge pit bubbling with rude gasses and mud. Mr. Loon peeled himself away and swiftly ran past the fire brush and tall tree promenade. He heard whispers drifting from a nearby cottage, surfacing like some forgotten lure of a field mouse in search of breadcrumbs. And that's when he realized he wasn't lost he had been there before.
He walked towards the whispering, gently summoning him forward into a grand light. The warm sensation touched his soul and melted his mind into a pool of liquid thought. Jaw dropped and star struck he raised his hands to shield his eyes from blinding. And with a sudden calm the light grew dim as someone came approaching.
A figure in a mask walked slowly toward him, as Mr. Loon, weary from travel, felt broken. But as the figure removed their colorful guise, he realized she was none other than the famous Mrs. Trinket.