*A/N* These first two-Goddess of the Sea and The Doctor- I think could turn into something a little bit more elaborate. What to you all think? The others are just kind of random, spur of the moment type things.

   These, and the last couple of fairy tales I've been posting, are for a comilation entitled, "Ordinary Tales of Extraordinary Nature." Of late, I have been annoyed at the lack of good fantasy in the writing sphere of today (excluding AP, of course!), so these little stories are my response to the listless and dark fantasies you find in a bookstore. My tales, like E. Nesbit's short fairy stories, may or may not have a moral; however, I wouldn't wish my morals to be apparent, for when I was a child, I hated when someone was trying to teach me something.

*A/N* I am Myself will probably be continued under a different title. Hope everyone likes these!

The moon shining brightly Up there in the sky Sheds it's calming light And tells me not to cry.   Something in the shining Brightly glowing sphere Tells me it's alright And that God is always near.   Why that wildly beauteous But sweetly calming glow Makes me want to cry, and laugh, And dance, I do not know.   But as I look up high Up to the twinkling light, I know God made the moon And the moon's my friend tonight.

I watched the moon. I watched it wax and wane
I watched it take on different shapes.
I watched it thin, I watched it grow,
and somehow it felt good to know
Every night is not the same.
The weather and the seasons change.

They measure the tides that go in and out
they know how to predict the clouds.
There are scientific names for phases,
a term for each way the moon looks and changes.

They name the waters, they name the stars
they view the world from inside their cars.

You stick your head out the window,
While it rains,
Even though its the beinging of winter,
You do it all the same.
The cold wet wind hits you,
Like an icy grip,
And all about you, you hear drip, drip.
You look out at the forest,
Right outside your window view,
Then you look at the plastic pond,
With the floating shoe.
The rain falls steadily,
You too, are being soaked,
And you hear the music so lovely,
That gives your heart a poke, poke.

Tall, imposing oak trees the colors of fall parted to form a bay off of the gently flowing river. It was hidden unless you looked for the low branches that one would have to duck under, even in a canoe, to get to this little hide away.

Dark orange, vivid yellow, and turning greens were the colors of the alcove. It was the picture perfect autumn scene. God’s handiwork was written all over this special place, the way every color fit together was better then any interior decorator could try to match.

"How could we be so cruel
as to put it to work?
The wind has not a mother,
nor a father--not even a home!
All it has is the sky for a companion
and the leaves of tall trees for a voice."

"No, brothers, this we cannot do.
We must find work
from the waves in the sea,
or the coal in the earth,
but let the wind blow however it may,
free and unharnessed as it has
from before time and as it will
long after we become moss, and rot, and earth."