The shadows fell like rain filling the streets of a victorian London but on second glance it wasn't Earth. A boot black boy ran past, his tan cap wet with rain.  His ears pointed.

It was night in the land of the Fay and the rain toumbled down.  A tall dark shadow slipped threw the deserted streets.  His cloak pulled tight around him obscured his face.  He glanced back and forth to see if he was being followed before stepping into the shadow of a shop door. 

The bell on the door jangled softly as he shut the door behind him.  

When shadows fade and shadows fall

Darkness creeps and rolls

The desert man made of sand cries out

                “What a laugh, did you think this was a pure romance story? I mean come on.  How could I let my author write something like that? It would have no place in it for a villain like me.

 Fairies

Fairies dwell in secret places,

Oft in trees or flower faces,

Deep in grass, or strong reeds tall,

Or e'en behind a waterfall.

You ne'er can see, you ne'er can tell;

They hide in tree or wishing well,

If with a mouse, or e'en your cat,

You know, these fairies, they can do that.

They are so small and sweet and bright,

Quick and pretty and oh-so-light,

They live in joy, they love their laughter,

And so they'll live forever after.

 The Sugar Plum Fairy

The Sugar Plum Fairy is rare and sweet,

There's laughter where e'er she goes,

She brings such light and joy and love,

She's there when e'er it snows.

She lays a soft white blanket down,

It's glitters in the sun,

She helps the spring with its fresh job,

When all of winter's done.

When summer comes she does not sleep,

But reads herself away,

With biscuits and some cups of tea,

She waits for winter's day.

Acliriana: Ack-lee-ree-ah-nah.

Come back the desert cried

back from the the fleeting darkness.

the winds did howl like banshee beings

The desert worbled and wailed

for Mary O'graida

would not return

she though not dead had wandered

far, far

From Far away the desert calls

its voice like rain

"OH come back Mary o'graidha,

Back to the whispering plains

back to where the wind howls and the wolf crys

come back to Delmaria

come back to me

cried a wind as dry as souls

parched, dead, dry

return, return,

to me

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A dragon’s tale

The Vary First Chapter Of A Vary Strange Story.

            Birds sang up above Horatio’s head as he rode up a steep grassy mountain that had thick oak trees growing all around. His long brown hair and hard features were typical of a knight and his strong arms and stature were as well. His intense bue eyes fixed ahead.