I invented something.
It’s in my workshop.
Want to see it?
Okay, but you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone about it.
Here it is.
What?
No, it’s not under the cloth… it’s the cloth!
See it shimmer and glitter?
It’s made of moonbeams.
I caught them on a bright moonlit night, and wove them into a cloth.
Well, not at first. I spun them into yarn and knitted them, but it just far was too coarse.
This cloth is a tight weave.
Of moonbeams.
That shimmer and glimmer.
And I invented it.
Me.
On a moonlit night.
Tag: fantasy
Reach
Imagination is like a magical place of ideas and stories.
Reach in, and pull something out… that’s creativity.
In between you and that place is the world, with all its problems and stresses and frustrations, clouding your vision and making it hard to pull anything from there, blocking you.
But every now and then, when you hear something strange, or something looks kinda weird, the world glimmers and gives way, letting imagination peek through.
Reach through quickly!
Grab on to it!
Pull it out!
Grab it!
Missed!
Keep trying. Keep at it.
Don’t stop looking.
Don’t give up the search.
Quil
NyQuil is green and makes you drowsy.
DayQuil is orange and doesn’t make you drowsy.
So, what happens if you drink them both?
I don’t know.
So, I went outside to a picnic table, poured out a capful of each of the liquids, and waited patiently.
Slowly, the moon covered the sun, and the sky grew dark.
At the moment of total coverage, where night was day and day was night, I drank.
The taste was horrendous, but passed quickly.
Then, my stomach felt warm.
And the feeling passed.
The moon slowly moved away from the sun…
And it winked.
Myth or Legend
A myth gives a religious explanation for something, while a legend is a story told as if it were a historical event.
This is just one of a thousand rules every member of The Storymerchants Guild must learn and follow when conducting business.
There are laws about proper labeling of products and services, and stories are no different.
One must be precise, otherwise proper tariffs, taxes, and fees won’t be collected.
And The Royal Auditors are quite diligent about checking the details.
In fact, I remember one time when two goblin bards…
Wait… hold on…
(Is this Myth or Legend?)
Seven of Swords
I knew a warrior who carried seven swords.
They were the finest blades I had ever seen, each more magnificent than the last, and each had its purpose.
One to thrust.
One to swing.
One to parry.
One to stab.
One to riposte.
One to chop.
And with that, he lumbered off into battle.
“What is the seventh sword for?” I shouted after him.
But it’s too late. The weight of the heavy swords left him defenseless, and he’s killed before he can answer.
We buried him, and stuck the most magnificent seventh sword at the head of his grave.
Harvesting Shadows
The best times to harvest shadows are at sunset and sunrise when they grow the longest.
They’re harder to cut, though… so most mages wait until noontime, when the sun is brighter.
Natural shadows are best for magic spells.
No self-respecting wizard would use a shadow made by torchlight or candlelight for an important spell. They do not have the same power. And they are wilder, harder to control.
And harvesting your own is important. Residual aura conflict can result in spectral friction.
Which causes explosions.
And for us to bill your parents for the damage to our labs, student.
Lanterns
The adventurers met at the cave entrance at dawn, and everyone was carrying a large lantern.
The thief. The fighter. The dwarf. The priest.
The whole party standing around, lanterns in hand.
The wizard scratched his chin. “Did anyone bring a weapon?”
The paladin and the dwarf looked at each other. “Well, we talked about it being dark in there last night, right?”
The wizard nodded. “I have a light spell, you know.”
The thief pointed at the wizard’s lantern. “So what’s with that?”
The wizard shrugged.
Back in town, the lantern salesman laughed all the way to the moneychanger.
Apprentice
The old wizard coughed… checked the handkerchief.
Blood.
He called for his apprentice.
“Yes, master?” said the apprentice.
His apprentice had mastered every spell he’d been taught and learned it quickly.
He’d make a fine wizard.
“One more lesson,” said the wizard, taking down a glass flask from the shelf. “Magic Jar. Relax, and feel your life’s essence flow into it.”
The apprentice closed his eyes and breathed out into the jar.
And was still.
The wizard patted him on the back. “Well done. You’ll make a fine vessel.”
He placed his bloody lips on his apprentice’s… and breathed out…
Hasten
Hasten your step, child, for we are in Dragon Country.
You’ve heard the tales of fire-breathing dragons, yes?
Well, they’re extinct. Knights hunted them down to the last.
Now that there are no more dragons to hunt, they sell dragon insurance.
No, not insurance to dragons. They’re extinct, remember?
They’re selling insurance to travelers like us. If we’re attacked by dragons.
Yes, I know there’s no dragons to attack us. But knights put on dragon costumes and attack travelers.
You’d think knights wouldn’t pull that kind of crap, but deep down, they’re assholes.
Shhhhhhhh! I hear it too!
Hurry up!
Max
Max is five years old, and he can heal machines.
No, he can’t explain how they work. But when he puts his hands on a machine and closes his eyes, the machine starts working again.
Blenders. Dishwashers. Lamps.
He even healed a motorcycle, but that took a lot out of him, so we gave him a fruit juice box, and let him nap in the corner for a while.
We took him to the train museum once, and he touched a steam train.
The whistle screamed to life as Max collapsed.
Two week coma.
We go to the zoo now.