DEV website instance!

[....]

At the sound of the word, the rug begins to flap its corners and with a visible effort drags itself a couple of feet into the air. It steadies itself and then lets its corners droop down in a very hang-dog manner. Well, I guess you could try flying it now, but it may be best not to overestimate its cargo carrying capacity.

? fly

You climb aboard the rug and seat yourself in the middle. As soon as you are sitting comfortably, the rug heaves itself towards the edge of the cliff in a flurry of flapping corners. It's a near thing and you take a hard bump on your rear end, though you hardly notice, being more concerned about the rug's air- worthiness. But the rug is up to it. Instead of flopping or plummeting to the distant beach below, it banks sharply to the left and, catching the updraft, starts circling to gain height. Very soon you are high above the cliff, and the rug sets out towards the distant island.

You are sitting in the centre of the magic rug, flying high over the sea towards the distant island. Behind you are the white cliffs of Horse Dover, the picnic place at their top where the giant is waving good-bye, and the stony beach at their foot. Far ahead is the island -- still too far to be seen with any clarity.

? fly on

In case you haven't noticed, the rug is flying all by itself. There is no call for you to flap you arms like that.

You are sitting in the centre of the magic rug, flying over the sea, about half-way between the mainland and the island. All around you the blue-green expanse of the sea sparkles merrily in the sun. Worryingly, the water seems to be getting somewhat nearer, which suggests that the rug must be steadily losing altitude. Ahead of you is the island, which is mostly a massive mountain rising out of the sea and surrounded by a thin yellow line - presumably a sandy beach.

? down

I am sorry, but magic rug flying regulations specifically prohibit any activity other than (a) enjoying the view (recommended), (b) reviewing one's possessions (optional) and (c) clutching rug edges in sheer stomach-churning terror (not recommended).

You are sitting in the centre of the magic rug, flying rather low over the sea. The cliffs of Horse Dover are now hardly more than a white smudge on the eastern horizon. Ahead of you is the island - a towering cone of a mountain, likely of volcanic origin, surrounded by a strip of golden sand. Dense vegetation starts beyond the sandy beach and climbs the mountain slopes, gradually changing to darker hues of green, before giving way to grey and brown rock.

? wait

You concentrate on sitting quietly, doing nothing...

The nearer you get to the island, the more uncertain it becomes whether you are actually going to make it. In the end the rug somehow manages to skim over the sea swell and lands on the sandy beach. The landing is a bit bumpy, but you should be grateful enough just to be here.

You are on the east facing sandy beach, which curves out of sight to the north and south. Here and there some well placed palm trees provide a welcome shade. Gentle waves of the warm sea lap the golden sand. A light breeze completes the perfect ambiance of this earthly paradise. To the west, beyond the strip of sand and an impenetrable barrier of tropical vegetation, the land quickly heaves itself up into a rugged, overgrown mountain. Some white structure is just about discernible on one of the outcrops roughly half way up the mountain.

There is a rather frayed Persian rug spread out on the ground.

[....]