Friday, March 9, 2012

FACT: Gnomes prefer nonfiction.


He walked almost without thinking as his feet carried him down familiar trails. He passed through the clover field, over Cistern Brook, and beyond the distillery where the air smelled malty of hops. He turned down a path that skirted the edge of the forest. This was the far extreme of the Common Land where the gnomes of Fairfield Meadow lived and worked. To his right an old split rail fence guarded the boundary to the forest from adventurous teenagers who might be tempted to explore. It had been constructed generations ago but new planks marked where it had been repaired more recently. Aubrey remembered a day in his youth when his friends had dared him to cross it and enter the darkness of the woods. Despite their taunts, he never found the courage to set foot beyond the fence.

As he was pondering these memories, he caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. A shadow moved. There was a rustle and a passing breeze. Aubrey looked and directly in front of him sat an ominous shadow on the fencepost.

“Whoooo are you?” a great voice boomed…

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