’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

The forests were gloomy, the misty air laden with an infernal whispering that followed one wherever one went. A Guardian was awakening, and on the prowl, hunting. He would hunt all who trespassed into his domain and he felt no fear – for he was the Jabberwock. He was the supreme killer; the killer of beasts; the killer of men; the killer of gods. Only the foolish dared cross his path.

Averill was not a god, and not a fool. Nor could you say he was a man. He was, unusual, to say the least. His eyes shone like diamonds – diamonds that often changed to emeralds, rubies, sapphires and garnets. His irises seemed to open up to a cavern of light; light from the darkest grass green to the coldest violet. If the sharpness of one’s eyes could be tangible – it could be said that Averill could pierce through the hardest rock, through the strongest steel, with his gaze alone. Beneath his otherworldly appearance, the boy was not considered physically excelling in any way – he spent his day with his nose in books, and the library was his favourite place. When other boys were out duelling with quarterstaffs, he would be fascinated with the wonders of the world, observed through gaps in time and space, hidden beneath the text in the tomes he would peruse. Averill would be fascinated with the Earth, like a newly born infant, witnessing its beautiful wonders for the first time.

One day, Averill stumbled across a novel. The novel was old and dusty, the pages were yellowed and wrinkly, yet the ink seemed to sparkle with hidden magic and an alien aura. Averill felt drawn to it, as if he had found an old friend from his past; it seemed familiar – somehow. He glanced at the title, ‘Jabberwocky’ it said. That was the only word he could read, as the other figures in the book were from an unknown tongue, but the characters still seemed to radiate that familiar feeling. He left the library earlier that morning; his curiosity had to be quenched.

The old rusty door rattled as it swung open. Averill stood on the doorstep, panting slightly.

“Hello?” Averill shouted, “Anybody home?”

An old wrinkly man rattled out of an old straw hut, his walking stick wobbling furiously.

“Averill! My boy, what have you been up to?”

“Nothing much, sir, just been reading again.”

“Of course you are, we are still in need to find a book in the library that you have not read yet!”

“But that is my point, sir, today I found an interesting book, one that I have never seen before – see, look!” Averill opened his leather bag and drew out the book. The word, ‘Jabberwocky’ shone like the stars, even though the sun was behind a cloud.

“I want to ask, what this book is about?” Averill inquired.

The elderly man gasped and fell to the ground, and he uttered the words:

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!”

But Averill felt no terror, so when he helped the old man rise, he asked more about this monster.

The elderly man turned pale. “Alas, alas!... You have been doomed, for I have lost 7 brothers to this curse! It has been fabled that whenever anyone lays eyes on this tome, he will be doomed to hunt the foe. But no man can hunt the Jabberwock and succeed, and I fear that you will fail also.”

But Averill will not be disheartened, he will try. As he turns to leave, the old man tells him to wait a little longer and rushes into the house. Not long after, he returns with a sabre in his hand, “this was my father’s vorpal sword. You will need it, my son, and take care.”

Averill strides out of the village, with the vorpal blade strung upon his back. He walked for miles, and days on end – until he finally reached the Tumtum tree, as the elderly man has specified.

He took his vorpal sword in hand;

Long time the manxome foe he sought—

So rested he by the Tumtum tree

And stood awhile in thought.

Deep in thought, he heard a disturbance in the tranquillity of the wood, and he stood his guard – his eyes shining light in the darkness. A silhouette of a dragon-like serpent stood where the path ended, and the bright red eyes of the fearsome Jabberwock could be seen in the shadows.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

He left with his gruesome prize and returned to the village. 

“The Jabberwock is dead! He will no longer terrorise the peace of this countryside!”

Everyone came to look at the supposedly invincible beast that had terrorised them for so long, but the face the stood from the crowd was of the old man, his face shining with tears. He clasped his hands in front of him and shouted in happiness.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”

He chortled in his joy.

The village was full of happiness that day, and all the people in the village went to praise Averill for his courageous deeds. They went on with their work, but their burden was lighter than before – as they all realised that they were free, free from the nightmare that for so long that had taken hold of their lives.

All parts in poem are extracted from the nonsense poem written by Lewis Carroll.