Category Archives: Once Upon a Time

Aug1

The Wonderful Whizzer of Og

Posted on by
Standard

As told by Me, a Wandering Teller of Tales and Singer of Songs

In a world full of stories like a goose that lays golden eggs, frog princes, unicorns, and faeries, I’m going to tell of something you’ll find hard to believe, and to the best of my knowledge, is unquestionably true.

th6SO6I282 In a serene, and rarely spoken of, mountainous country in the interior of a vaguely known continent is a valley. From the bird’s eye view, this valley looks just like all of the many valleys on either side of it, except it’s quite a bit greener. The reason for the extra green is the part that you’ll find hard to believe.

One day, about two hundred years ago, a child was born to a, long thought barren, couple named Elle and Ferd. Their appearance was said to be Ogre-like but, to be sure, they weren’t Ogres. They did possess some of the lumpy characteristics and short, bent-over stature but; these were caused by centuries of manual labor in the fields and the isolation of their valley.

Elle and Ferd were members of a “kind” people that inhabited the middle valley of this mountain range’s series of valleys. Og valley people were rarely seen by anyone because a single two wheeled path passed by the entrance to each valley, which were like islands surrounded by mountains instead of water. All harvests were brought up the path to the only entrance of each island, and the harvests were picked up by sellers on their way the cities.
As far back as anyone could remember, the valley of Og out produced all of the other valleys both in size and the quality of the current harvest, whatever it might be. The reason for this anomaly was a closely guarded secret for decades.

Now that it is known, I can tell you, the Valley of Og’s bounty began a few years after the birth of a child.

Months before the birth of the boy, a dreaded Brown Tufted Honey Snatch, had entered the valley, made its way to the honey hives, ravaged them, and consumed the faeries’ entire winter cache’ of special honey.

Ferd discovered the destruction and quickly rebuilt the hives in time for the valley’s flowering season. The bees survived, the nectar was harvested, and turned into their special honey, averting a disaster for the faeries, and the people of Og.

The faeries were so grateful, they bestowed upon Elle and Ferd two gifts. One was the most precious gift the faeries could give. It was an enchanted child!

As the child grew, it was noticed where ever he whizzed, vegetation grew to enormous mass and height. Elle and Ferd, at first thought it was just their imagination, but as the boy grew up, so did their crops and trees. Enormously! The second gift from the Faeries.

Some of their neighbors noticed and remarked about the family’s continuous bountiful harvests. Elle and Ferd mentioned their discovery and what they suspected, to their neighbors.

It was decided “The Child”, would be loaned to the families that had land adjoining Elle and Ferd’s land, to see what would happen.

It worked! Each farm family produced the same amazing bounty. It didn’t seem to matter whether “The Child” whizzed directly on the specific plant or into the water supply for a whole crop. It worked! Everyone quietly celebrated the discovery. They wanted to keep their treasure a secret for as long as possible, for fear of exhausting the boy!

In the normal tradition of the valley, children were addressed as “Young Elle” or “Young Ferd” until their twelfth birthday. They were then named by making combinations of the name of their home, family, valley, or personality. It was decided to call the boy Wog to connect him with their valley. This is the name he would be known by, in the village and the valley, as long as the secret was kept. To the people, whose land connected to Elle and Ferd’s land, the boy would be known as ‘The Whizzer of Og’ (Wog)!

*****

The boy kept on growing and the amount of whizzing he could do in a day, increased. He was remarkable! Soon, the whole valley benefited from the lad’s ability. It became extremely difficult to hide the reason for the fortune of Valley of Og.

Alas, the tale of Wog’s abilities eventually leaked into the next valley. The Valley of Od heard the rumor about the whizzing boy wonder and decided they would like to be whizzed on too!
One day, accompanied by a wagon of his remarkable “Mead” supply drawn by a donkey (mead is a beverage made from honey, water, malt, and yeast), Wog by himself, as usual, was busy doing his business, and happily humming.

Now the Valley of Og rarely had troubles and did not know evil. Wog was a strong, young man, so no one ever thought he would need to be protected.

Wog had few friends. His whizzer, and the job it did, intimidated most people including the fairer Ogidites, so for the time being, Wog would just drink his Mead by himself, wait a few moments, hum and whiz on the crops. On a normal day, he would go home at dusk to get rested for the next day’s work, regular as clockwork.

In the twilight of this late afternoon, just before Wog normally would leave for home, was nabbed by several hooded beings that had snuck up on the humming Wog. They threw a blanket over him and whisked him to their valley in a two wheeled cart. He did not offer resistance, as he did not know how to resist. He lay, bouncing in the bottom of the cart wondering what was happening, and where he was going.

The next morning, Elle and Ferd, became frantic when they found Wog had not slept in his bed. His Mead wagon and donkey were not in their shed. Not quite knowing what to do, Ferd ran to his neighbors, and into the village, telling of his missing son. It was decided the first thing to do was to search the valley. Everyone turned out for the search. It wasn’t long before they came upon Wog’s Mead wagon and donkey, quietly standing where left, waiting for the return of Wog.

*****

In the next valley, that same day, Wog was introduced to the Od villagers. The leader of the hooded ones lied, and told his people that the “kind” people of The Valley of Og, had graciously loaned Wog to help them produce the greatest harvest they’d ever seen. The crowd cheered and set decorated tables for a feast and celebration.

Wog felt loved and wallowed in the attention. These Od people were throwing a party for Wog, something his village had never done.

The villagers in the Og valley had followed the two-wheeled cart tracks to the end of their valley, and found that the tracks turned left on the seller’s road. They left their valley and found it took another left into the next valley, the Valley of Od.

They went back to their own valley to plan. There were discussions by torchlight, meetings by candle light. They decided to enter the Valley of Od to recover their precious Wog.

Obviously, the secret of success, in the Valley of Og, was no longer a secret. They could call him his full name now. All of this uncustomary detective work and planning took time but, they managed to get ready for the retrieval attempt in a couple of days.

The morning after the celebration in the Village of Od, set out to see this miracle at work. The whole village followed “the hooded ones” and Wog to a field of strawberries close to town. Wog was supplied with all of their local mead he could drink.

There was stillness to the crowd, as the mead traveled. Wog began humming, and to energize the strawberry field, with a confident grin. At the sight and delivery pressure of his extraordinary whizzer, the crowd gasped at the wonder of it all. They had never seen such a thing!

Time after time, Wog went back to the supply of Mead, drank, waited and whizzed to the cheer of the crowd. When he felt his job was completed, with a little shake of his whizzer, and a nod of his head, to the hooded group’s leader, Wog and his entourage went back to the village to await the results. The villagers were stayed up all night excited and noisy. There wasn’t a celebration for Wog that night, but he was kept comfortable in a shed.

A young, handsome Od maiden, alone attended his needs. She brought warm blankets, food, and fresh straw for his bed. Not a word was spoken, but her attention was given in wide eyed wonder and admiration.

Wog could hear the celebration and wondered where the Od villager’s attention he’d received the night before was! He eventually reasoned they were waiting to see the results of his talent. Then, he would be their hero, and forever celebrated in this valley.

*****

Early in the morning of the next day, the people from the Valley of Og quietly shuffled into the Valley of Od, with their farm implements held high above their heads, silhouettes in the dawn. Fighting was not their nature, but this had to be done, as “The Whizzer” was needed back at home. New crops had been planted. Time was short. Bravely, they marched on!

A crowd gathered outside of the shed, and Wog was escorted out. In anticipation, there was controlled, nervous applause.

To the field of strawberries they went, the back of the crowd straining to see in the dawn light. As they approached the strawberry field, the throng slowed. Something was wrong! At the corner of the field, they came to a dead, silent stop and stood still.

The whole field of berry plants was wilted. Wog had never seen anything like it before.

The owner of the field yelled something, high pitched, with an attitude. The hooded ones and the gathering of Od valley people grumbled and began to mill about angrily.

Wog was approached several times by different groups looking for an answer. All Wog could do was look astonished, shrug his shoulders shift his eyes from the people to the field and back again.

Soon, the groups of villagers began to suspect the legend was untrue. Wog had failed and didn’t have any magical powers or answers. The disappointed gathering headed back toward their village mumbling, while the hooded ones gathered in a circle meeting. Wog was left standing, alone, again.

The “hooded ones” agreed, the legend of Wog was not true, for he had destroyed an entire strawberry field in one evening. It was then decided; the Valley of Od no longer had a need to keep him. They got their two wheeled cart and escorted Wog to the end of their valley. Well, almost to the end of their valley! On the way, they met the armed villagers from the Valley of Og.

Abandoning the cart and Wog, they ran for their lives toward their own village. The cart, Wog, and an unremarkable pile of straw in the corner of the cart were happily escorted home by the group of successful Og warriors.

The return of The Whizzer of Og, as Wog could now be known, was the second celebration Wog had seen in three days. This time it was his own kind, his own village, with people who knew his abilities. There was a lot of hugs and smiles between Wog, his parents, and amongst all in the Valley of Og.

Wog noticed the self-celebration by the farmers of Og. He also remembered that before he’d been kidnapped, few people talked to him, and he had made few friends. They were friendly of course, and smiled, but, other than having him whiz for them, most didn’t want to have much to do with Wog.

The leader of Og took Wog by the arm and helped him up into the cart that brought him back from his ordeal. The bundle of straw in the back corner exploded and out came the little Od girl. She ran into the crowd, a trail of straw drifting to the ground behind her.

The look of surprise on the leader’s face was quickly dismissed by an irritated shrug of his shoulders, as he was anxious to get back to his prepared speech.

He proudly raised Wog’s arms in the air as you would raise a trophy. Everyone cheered as he was displayed.

Then, Wog surprised them. With all of his courage, Wog spoke up. He never spoke up, but now, he finally had something important to say. The leader of Og stepped down to give Wog the audience.

He first thanked them for bringing him back home. He then told them about how the people of the Valley of Od held a party for him when they thought he would be able to make their crops as bountiful as Og’s crops. Then, when he failed, he told them how they quickly turned against him.

He told the silent crowd, that the Odidites did not love Wog for who he was, but only for what he could do for them.

Wog asked the people if this was how they felt?

There was complete silence while the people of Og measured themselves.

One person somewhere in the crowd started a chant. Overcoming their shame, two, and then three spoke up. Soon everyone was applauding, cheering, and chanting “Wog, Wog, Wog!”

The handsome little Odidite, with straw in her hair and an admiring smile, took one step out of the crowd toward the wagon. A surprised Whizzer smiled back at her then quickly regained his composure. While the crowd was cheering, Wog stepped down from the wagon to hold her hand. The Governor of Wog stepped back up in the wagon.

As the leader of the village and the Valley of Og, he declared a festival every year, on this day, from now on, to celebrate the gift of Wog. He shall be called fully “The Whizzer of Og” and, his name shall be proudly displayed on a sign at the entrance to their valley. It shall declare:

The Valley of Og

Home of The Whizzer of Og

Population 1103 +1 Great Whizzer

There was a secret kept by the Og Valley fairies!

Why did Wog’s talents fail in the Valley of Od? Why did his ability work so well in the Valley of Og?

The secret of course was the second gift from the faeries, I didn’t tell you about.

The Mead was made with the faerie honey from the hives that Ferd had repaired. That honey was enchanted. The more Wog whizzed on the flowers fueled by the mead made from the honey, made from the flowers he whizzed on, the more powerful his whizzing became.

This enchanted honey plus the extraordinary talents of the child, combined to create the magic for the Valley of Og, and one of the greatest stories ever told.

*****

That’s not the end of the story!

When The Whizzer introduced the little Odidite to the people of Og, she was accepted into the community. She was the first of another valley accepted by the Ogidites, as far back as memories could remember.

The Whizzer of Og and the brave little Odidite were inseparable. Elle and Ferd added a room for her, and in essence, she became their daughter.

Time passed.

There was a celebration in the Valley of Og. The pair of Wog and Mow (Mate of the Whizzer) were joined forever.

(More time passes.)

The sign at the entrance to the Valley of Og now reads:

The Valley of Og

Home of the Whizzers of Og

Population 1105 + 1 big whizzer and 4 little whizzers

All of this because of a kind man’s good deed and a thank you from the Faeries.

(I reserve the right to add a couple more of the little whizzers to the Valley of Od at a later date)

Jun22

Near Death by Broccoli

Posted on by
Standard

      For all of you that follow my life closely and worry about me, I’d like you to know that I’m O.K.!

       The stir-fry doggie bag that my wife brought from “girls night out” almost got me, but I saved myself. 

      She’d ordered stir fried Chicken and Scallops, knowing that I loved fried scallops, and she would not be able to eat it all. It was mixed with Chinese noodles, rice and several kinds of vegetables.

       Because it was late and I’d already eaten, I asked her to transfer the leftovers from the Styrofoam into a Ziploc container and put it in the refrigerator. I thought about them all through the next day while I was at work. Scallops are expensive and a real treat for me.

      That evening I decided to have the treasure for supper so, I cracked the lid a bit and put the container in the microwave for three and a half minutes. The dinger went off; I shook the container and put it back in the microwave for another one-half minute. There was a little steam coming from the cracked cover so I emptied the contents onto a plate, ready for the feast.

        That’s when I saw them. There were three pieces of broccoli half hidden and lurking beneath the noodles, carrots and zucchini. I screamed and quickly ran to the sink. So as to not waste time, I grabbed a used silicon spatula from a plate on the counter top and quickly flipped the largest piece into the disposal.

       The other two pieces were smaller and I flicked them with my right pointer finger into the sink and then hit them with the sprayer. They circled around the sink once and then washed into the disposal with the large piece. I hit the switch and heard the cry and gurgle of the disposal motor and its contents.

       I turned off the disposal and water, picked up my plate to examine it and saw in my vision off to the side of the plate, the large piece of broccoli was trying to crawl out of the hole. 

      I hit it with the spatula and ran the disposal again. I turned the disposal off, watched and listened. There was no movement, only silence. 

      After trying to see down the disposal through the rubber collar and satisfying myself it was empty, I re-examined my plate hoping that none of the juice from the broccoli had seeped into my scallops.

       At this time, I am reporting the stir fried scallops were delicious and I survived but, it was close. One must be on his toes at all times!

At this time, I’ve written eighty some odd short stories and poems. I’m going to rotate them through this web site to keep it fresh. Hopefully, I’ll have other forms of entertainment drift through as I learn to use this site. At least twelve of the short stories will be published in a future book called Ron’s Shorts! LOL…..couldn’t resist!

 

Jun2

The Tale of Clyde, the Exhausted Rooster

Posted on by
Standard
Part One

No one knows for sure where he came from. He appeared at dawn on a Monday, standing atop the tallest barnyard fence pole.

As the tip of the sun broke the horizon, he stood, a black shadow against the blazing sunrise. He stretched his neck twice it’s size and pointed his beak straight up; his bright red comb stood out like a warning flag. Never before was heard anything as magnificent as the sound that poured from this beast’s throat! The single, masterful crow caused the startled milk cow to scramble to her feet. The pigs snapped their heads up from the feeding trough and the piglets scrambled for their mom. The whole sun seemed to spring above the horizon as if it had been waiting for the sound.

Twenty-one prize laying hens tried to leave the chicken coop through one little hole, all at once, to see what could have created such a siren. Finally arriving, around the corner of the barn, wearily trotted Clyde, the yard rooster. He’d been resting in the loft after staying up all night in the chicken coop, guarding and maintaining his house.

One huge Red Rooster jumped down from the tallest fence post in the yard, strutted ten struts and then stopped, poised as if to give everyone a chance to see. His full name was Rojo Grande El Magnifico, but they just called him Rojo Grande for short. Rojo Grande stood dead still. He slowly inspected the twenty one plump, orange, champion laying hens all lined up as if waiting to be inspected. He brought one eyebrow up to widen the view in that eye. He l i k e d what he saw.

It was then Rojo Grande spotted the rather disheveled, yellow brown yard rooster. There was a quick turn of his head and a single strut. Nothing stirred. Two more struts and the hens started a low volume, slow, warning cluck. They could smell roosterosterone and feel the tension in the air.

This is where the sleepy, exhausted yard rooster made his mistake. He took a slow, cautious step toward Rojo Grande and looked him straight in the eye. As the Clyde’s foot touched the ground, there was a flash and a red blur. Taken by surprise, Clyde was in the air fighting desperately, his feathers flying loose everywhere. As Clyde touched the ground five feet from where he originally was, his instincts took over and he ran as fast as his wings and legs would take him in the opposite direction of the blur.

In the middle of the yard stood Rojo Grande El Magnifico, his chest held high and comb up, straight as an arrow. The hens were cackling excitedly.

As Clyde watched from his perch in the hayloft, Rojo Grande let one masterful cluck loose. Twenty-one prize layers immediately headed for the hen house to do their job.

Rojo Grande El Magnifico stood alone, master of the farmyard.

Part Two

One warm, lazy day late in the summer, it seemed as if the Earth had stopped breathing. The air was dead still. The clouds were not moving. There was a silence that almost never happened in the normally noisy farmyard.

The animals that had been napping felt something unusual and perked up their ears. They stood, eyes widened, and began to search. The hens, normally pecking, stopped and looked toward Rojo Grande and then upward toward the loft!

Clyde felt the vibration change. He jumped up on his long spurred legs and walked with curiosity to the loft door. As he did, some straw was accidentally kicked over the edge of the doorframe. It floated straight down. There was not even breeze enough to make it float in any direction other than down. This is very strange because windless days in this country were extremely rare.

From the top of a stand of Elm trees on the west side and just outside of the rail fence, the slight rattle of the driest leaves could be heard. The breeze that caused the leaves to move had jumped over the rail fence and into the farmyard. The tiniest of whirlwinds appeared and kicked up enough dust to define itself. The bottom of the tiny twister danced first left, then right and sometimes seemed to circle while the top remained steady and traveled in a straight line through the barnyard. Everything in the yard watched it as it exited through the gate on the east side of the yard. There was again, silence. One older hen took a tentative retreating step toward the chicken coop. She knew something was up!

As that hen’s foot came back to the ground, a terrifying screech ripped the silence and shattered any calm left in the farmyard. The sound came from behind and above that Elm stand. Nothing was seen immediately, but another screech tore through the air.

Then Demus appeared. His four-foot wide black wings were set in a swift and calculated dive. His talons extended to capture his reward. Demus had one of the prize-laying hens in his sights.

The animals in the farmyard knew Demus. His arrival terrified and sent every one of the animals scattering to whatever haven was near. The older hens tended to run toward the hen house in a straight line. The younger hens ran in a much more panicked, confused and indirect way. The newest even ran in circles. This was the effect Demus intended when he arrived with his screech and sudden appearance. Confusion and surprise are his friends and although he’d never succeeded getting his supper in this farm yard, his tactics had been successful many, many times in other yards on other farms.

Demus had never been successful on this farm because of his nemesis, Clyde the yard rooster.

Clyde was this farm’s guardian. He was there the first time Demus attacked and Clyde defended the farm animals with ferocity every time.

On this day, Demus had been observing the farm yard from very high. It was his habit to circle unseen in the sky to find his target. He didn’t see Clyde and probably would have by-passed this farm if he had. What he did see was a strutting Rojo Grande. This was a new addition to the farmyard and an opponent Demus had not tested. Maybe there would be a nice fat hen from this farm today. He would find out.

As Demus sped over the top of the Elms in his surprise attack, he located his target. Off to the side of his sight, Demus watched for Rojo Grande El Magnifico’s inevitable defense. The rooster was easy to spot. He was the largest red thing moving in the yard. Demus continued his attack dive.

Expecting a side attack from Rojo Grande, Demus braced himself as his talons closed upon the slowest and largest hen in the retreating flock. Surprised to actually make contact and grab the hen, he had to look up suddenly to judge his escape with such a heavy and undefended surprise. As he looked up, Demus saw a red flash going out of the yard gate ahead of him. Astonished at his success, Demus miscalculated the weight of his prize, the speed of his unimpeded attack, and his direction. Wings pulling hard and just missing the side of the barn, his escape path took him very close to the open loft door.

There was a yellow brown flash and the side attack he’d been expecting from the red rooster earlier, arrived. It was Clyde, the yard rooster with his long, three-inch leg spurs.

Demus dropped the hen at the tremendous blow and plummeted to the ground with the yard champion firmly attached. They hit the ground in a cloud of dust, mixed with the screaming sounds of defense and the furious sounds of attack. It was a blur of wings, feathers, beaks, talons and spurs. The dust ball of battle rolled gradually into the middle of the yard. From every corner of the farm yard, the other animals watched the melee.

Suddenly, they separated. The separation surprised both. Slowly backing, Demus turned with damaged wings and pride, flapped several tortured wing beats and rose, just clearing the Elms.
Clyde, watching the sudden departure of his opponent, could barely stand, wounded and exhausted. The animals left their hiding places and approached him. From the hen house paraded twenty-one prize-laying hens. Clyde counted and counted again. All of the hens were there, one more time. As Clyde straightened himself up, he took a step toward the stairway to the loft. The animals cleared a path for their protector. Up the stairs he went, wearily hopping up one step at a time, one step and a pause, one step and a pause. The animals watched as he appeared in the doorway of the loft. Compacting himself in a rooster ball, Clyde shortened his neck so his head rested on his body and he closed one eye. He was one exhausted rooster!

What ever happened to Rojo Grande El Magnifico? At the last sighting, Rojo Grande was seen running down the road in the opposite direction of the battle and would never be seen here again. Legend has it that he found another farm yard where he could strut his stuff and impress some unsuspecting hens. Then there was another farm and another. Hopefully, he found a place where he will never have to deal with the evil Demus or a Clyde, the Exhausted Rooster!

The End of Part Two

Stay tuned for more adventures of Clyde, the Exhausted Rooster! Coming soon to a Writing.com near you!

May23

My Name is Prince Albert

Posted on by
Image


       One sunny afternoon, determined, I waited beside the path.  As the princess and her handmaiden got close, I stepped in front of them. The handmaiden saw me first, picked me up, and with mischief in her voice, said, “Here, your highness, your frog prince!” 

      With a giggle, she dropped to a knee, I within her open hands, and offered me to the princess in jest. The princess gave the handmaiden a mock appreciative smile, pulled the maiden’s hands toward her lips, and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. With the silliness over, the handmaiden gently put me down, and the two disappeared down the path toward the castle, chirping and laughing. 

      I lay by the side of the path for a long time, limp and exhausted. When I partially recovered and could hop again, I slowly jumped to my home in the root of the tree. I was trembling, and the ground beneath me was spinning! I could feel my frog body beginning to change. Here we go! Here we go! Then, there was nothing. Nothing! I did not turn into a prince. I slept.

       To this day, I do believe I began to change. After all, I did change from an egg to a tadpole, and then from a tadpole to a frog! What comes after frog? I figured this princess didn’t really need a prince at this time, and there was no faerie. The magic wasn’t there. At this moment, I did not know the princess and I would meet again, some day.

       I did decide to give myself a name. I now call myself “Prince Albert,” after the prince in the story. After all, I’m the only frog I know that has been kissed by a princess!

An Extraordinary Day

      Although I often thought of the princess, a second meeting with her scared me so! I’d watch from afar when she passed by with her handmaiden. Once in a while, I would watch from the other side of the path because I saw them when I was returning from following the flower scent I smelled when I first met her. I found the smell was coming from the other side of the path. It got stronger the farther I went. Each day I followed the smell as if being pulled. The smell excited me! I let it lead me. I was a willing adventurer.

       One day I went so far so long into the day that I could not get back to my tree root home before dark. As the light faded, I found a place where the haunting flower smell surrounded me. It became too dark to see, and the smell was making me sleepy, so I found a fallen tree and burrowed a nest in the leaves piled under its overhang and went to sleep. A very busy day! A very dreamy sleep! I dreamt of fast swimming, long jumping, the princess, and that flower smell. I slept so deeply, it took the midmorning warmth of the sun to wake me.

       I awoke suddenly, as if falling, and jumped up from my nest. I was standing in the middle of a ring of mushrooms and pale blue flowers! It was a faeries’ ring.

       This was a supersensuous sight, flooded with an equally supersensuous smell. These two senses were fighting to be the most overwhelming when a third sense heard a soft and clear giggle from over there. No, over there! Or over there! A faerie trick! It is sometimes hard to understand what your senses are telling you when you’re standing in the middle of a faeries’ ring. I believed I was about to meet the faerie ring’s owner.

       A faeries’ personal flower ring is a circle of enchantment. It belongs to the faerie that nurtured it. It is a very pleasant and passive trap for whatever ventures into it. The stupor produced by the sight and smell is a seduction. The only way to escape is to befriend the faerie or to become her enemy. To befriend a faerie is to become enchanted and have a friend forever. To become her enemy is to have an enemy forever. Misfortune and bad luck will befall you. Everyone knows, only a fool becomes the enemy of a faerie!

       There was movement above and to my right, which shocked my numbed mind back to consciousness. She was there, brighter than the sun. It was a faerie trick to get closer as you shield your eyes. A way to see what you are! As quickly as she was there, she was gone. Then there came a small, commanding voice.”

       “Do you call yourself Prince Albert, and are you of the tree root by the pond?”

       “Yes, that is me!” I answered.

       “Why have you come to my faerie ring?” she asked.

       “I was following the flower scent. I fell asleep and woke up within your ring. I meant no harm!” I said.

       “It is the way it was supposed to be, Albert! I and others have observed your life since you were a tadpole. We believe you are special and are here to fulfill one of nature’s wishes. You were enchanted and guided here. I warn you, the tasks nature wishes you to do are very important and may be dangerous! These tasks may take you far from your tree root home and the comforts you know there. Do you have the heart to take the challenge and fulfill nature’s wishes?”

       I told her, “I have nothing but happy memories at the pond, but they are all memories. I am where I am now, and I do have the heart to go farther.”

       “Welcome, Albert! I am Naomai. You will not have to do this alone! I and others will be there to help with all of their knowledge, and with all the faerie magic I can bring.”

       With this, Naomai reappeared as a normal, hovering faerie. I could hear her wings buzz gently as she came down to the ground close to where I was standing. Her fears about me gone, she wished to make me comfortable by turning down the glow and continue speaking at my eye level.

       “You were given special powers when you were very young, Albert. You are enchanted. You must understand, with these powers there is an enormous responsibility, and if misused, the powers can bring great harm to yourself and the people around you. I am here to be your guide as you learn to use these gifts properly.”

       “Are you ready?” Naomai asked.

       “I am ready!”

I am also ready! I have a few first editions (both hard cover and soft cover left for personal signing. If your interested, my E-mail is ronalddrobeck@yahoo.com. It would be my pleasure to personalize and sign a book for you…rdd