I will not wear a tulle-tailed dunce cap for anyone or for any reason.

Chautona Havig

Mots clés fantasy fairytales

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Well, I think her exact words were, ‘Luke, sometimes I don’t wike you vewy much,’ so I just told her that I’d always love her very much.” ~Luke Sullivan

Chautona Havig

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The treetops swayed high above the mists along the edge of the forest known as Wynne Holt. Five boys, all in their twelfth year, lay on their stomachs peering through the grasses of the headland near The Point. They watched as the cloaked Creature, the Ge-sceaft, wandered through the shifting fog that intermittently smothered the field ahead of them. Its shadow faded and resurfaced as it roamed through the grasses; and at times, eerie noises-- almost like singing-- drifted to the edge of the cliff from where they watched. Angus, the oldest and brawniest of the lads, began telling tales that terrified and delighted the others. “It has horns, it does. That’s why it wears the hood so far over its face. The horns aren’t at the back; they’re near the front, and it uses them to tear up its food like an animal uses claws and fangs.” “What does it eat?” The other boys turned

Chautona Havig

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