More Random Drivel, because I'm a terrible procrastinator. :P
The Little Girl of Forgotten.
Once there was a girl that lived in a small cabin by the lake of Nevermore, on the fringe of Forgotten, just between the Kingdom of Real and the Fiefdom of Asleep.
She didn't know her name because her mother had drunk from the well of Lethe and was Lost.
Sometimes she thought she heard her mother's voice singing the silvery song from the scarred music box that was the little girl's only earthly possession. The strange ebb and flow of airy notes would hover in the air and bat against her ears like the butterflies that skimmed the flower fields.
But the voice would fade away, and the little girl was always alone.
She never ate or drank, nor did she curl upon the woven mat of reeds to sleep. Day after day, night after night, she would sit in silence until the full moon. For it was on the full moon that she would wind her music box and listen to its strange, bittersweet melody.
One night, as the box tinkled its magic song, the little girl looked up to find a shadow leaning in her doorway.
"Hullo."
The shadow didn't answer, stepping farther into the cabin toward the little girl and the box clutched in her hands.
Her voice wavered as the shadow grew menacingly tall, towering over her and blocking the light from the window as a cloud blocks the sun.
"Don't."
The shadow paused.
The little girl held her box with sweating palms as the last note faded into the air.
Her voice piped sweetly through the still night, "Don't leave me."
And on a dark night, deep in the hills of Forgotten, the little girl was no more.
Once there was a girl that lived in a small cabin by the lake of Nevermore, on the fringe of Forgotten, just between the Kingdom of Real and the Fiefdom of Asleep.
She didn't know her name because her mother had drunk from the well of Lethe and was Lost.
Sometimes she thought she heard her mother's voice singing the silvery song from the scarred music box that was the little girl's only earthly possession. The strange ebb and flow of airy notes would hover in the air and bat against her ears like the butterflies that skimmed the flower fields.
But the voice would fade away, and the little girl was always alone.
She never ate or drank, nor did she curl upon the woven mat of reeds to sleep. Day after day, night after night, she would sit in silence until the full moon. For it was on the full moon that she would wind her music box and listen to its strange, bittersweet melody.
One night, as the box tinkled its magic song, the little girl looked up to find a shadow leaning in her doorway.
"Hullo."
The shadow didn't answer, stepping farther into the cabin toward the little girl and the box clutched in her hands.
Her voice wavered as the shadow grew menacingly tall, towering over her and blocking the light from the window as a cloud blocks the sun.
"Don't."
The shadow paused.
The little girl held her box with sweating palms as the last note faded into the air.
Her voice piped sweetly through the still night, "Don't leave me."
And on a dark night, deep in the hills of Forgotten, the little girl was no more.