I'm writing this as we travel along in our personal coach to the castle. I've had quite an interesting day.

It didn't start out well at all. I spent the night after the dance in vigil over the house, making sure Bookend didn't attack. So my lack of sleep and self control mixed with my apathy allowed me to snap at the step sisters when they remarked at my fatigue and commented on Cinderella's obvious sexual prowess. The looks on their faces was worth having hot coffee thrown in my face after my response.

The Princesses of the universe then got word of the nobleman's ball and rumors that the Prince was back from war and looking to settle down. Like two chickens with Saint Vitus Dance, they ran around the house to get ready. Or more accurately, Cinderella was chasing them around the house, trying to get them ready, putting them in clothing whose value could repair the house ten times over.

Cinderella asked to go, of course, and her mother, of course, laughed at her. She and said only if Cinderella could complete her chores. So with me and Wolf's help, we helped to get the impossible done. But as the story goes, when we were all finished it was too late. We were too dirty and had no dresses and we would only put the family to shame. The mother lives in a run down manor, has two daughters who couldn't seduce trolls, has the charm of a horde of locus and the charisma of a flatulent skunk. And she's worried about CINDERELLA putting the family to shame. Some people are weird.

So the step mom and step daughters rode off in their complimentary coaches, cause god knows they don't have one. And Cinderella broke down into a crying fit. She just collapsed onto the ground into a ball and started to heave as though the tears couldn't come fast enough. I've never been good at comforting a crying woman, mostly because they've been angry about things beyond my control. Namely me. So I held her, and contemplating whether proposing to and running off with her would be a good idea.

But the silence was broken when she said that all she wanted was to go to the ball. And with those words, a winged woman suddenly appeared with a magical wand. Wolf said he calls this one. She explains that's she Cinderella's Fairy Godmother. And she was here to grant Cinderella's fondest wish. She would make a coach for her out of a pumpkin. But alas. There appeared to be no pumpkins. Apparently Cinderella had pumpkins stored, but I found that the storage had been broken into. All that was left was the Bookend seal.

So we went on a hunt for a pumpkin in December. Eventually we had to steal one. We brought it back safe and sound for the Fairy Godmother who turned it into a carriage. Then with another wave of her wand, Cinderella was transformed. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. And I've seen Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. Her hair was fire and her dress was white as the snow on the ground. A gift from the heavens. And off she rides to end up with another man. The F.G. told her all the usual stuff, has to be home by midnight because that's when the spell would be broken blah blah blah, but I barely paid attention.

Anyway, she sticks her head out the window and thanked us continually until she's out of sight and out of earshot. My heart grieved as I thought of all the people at the ball and she would dance with her Prince. Then something hit me. All those people? What if she never dances with the Prince? Who knows what kind of thing Bookend could do? He might even kill her! Though in hind sight, I doubt it. He hasn't killed anyone yet. I talked to the Fairy Godmother and asked her to make me up for the ball as well.

She gave me this knowing look and said she would make me and Wolf handsome and fit for the ball. However, we only got until ten o'clock. After that, I would turn back. But I could still be around the party. Just to get in would be nice. And maybe there would be a chance that I would see her there.

I'm going there to work. And to make this story work. Right. And while I'm wishing, I want a pony.

I've often wondered what it means by the twelves days of Christmas. But, then again, Christmas is always a strange time of year. It is December 23, by my estimations, as if time flowed correctly in this time and place anyway. Only two weeks ago it was the middle of fall.

I spent most of the day not killing the stepsisters. It wasn't easy, what with everything they did to make it so understandable. The step family not only seemed to accept the fact that I was amongst them, but also accepted the fact that I too was their permanent slave and that I was to be abused as frequently without question as Cinderella was. So I spent the rest of the day helping Cinderella with her ever expanding and increasingly imaginative list of chores. There are dozens of rooms ranging from marble, rugged, carpeted and hard wooden, all needing to be cleaned. Forty baskets of laundry as the girls changed tri-hourly. The women eat six meals a day, and none of them ever eat the same thing. This place has over ten chimneys that need sweeping, according to the step sisters, hourly. And apparently they don't like it when I use their dresses to clean the flu. But their anerxic frames make their dresses the right size.

I think what's worse is that they take turns insulting me, then the hit on me. They must believe their insults are based off of some wit because they giggle. Makes me want to be sick. And they hate it when I flirt with Cinderella. Not like they care about my affections for her, it was that I showed no affection for them. But I did make sure they saw me jump the two story house to perform tai chi on the roof at dawn this morning. Ironically, it was them that I was trying to relax about. I'll never understand women I guess.

I'm shaking again. Shakes are never good. Shakes means anger. Anger means hatred. Hatred means rage. Rage is death. Death is Silver Rose. Silver Rose is eternal. Got to stop thinking about that. Nobody is dying. Nobody is going to die. I am apathy. I do not care. I don't care about anything. And I'm lying. I do care. And once again, I care in a place where I shouldn't be.

As a Christmas present, I was able to steal Cinderella away for a hot bath and a touch up. Clean clothes and a good brush makes all the difference. It's good to remind a woman she's beautiful and loved. If I thought Cinderella was beautiful before, she's gorgeous now. Her hair is a rich copper color under all that plaster and dirt, and she smiles with dimples under all that muck. And in new clean clothes she's as pretty as a queen.

We went to a little seasonal dance thing at the hall in town, one that the step sisters would never catch themselves dead at and I watched her dance. The men noticed her 'attractions' as I had and all wanted to dance with her. But it was the wolf on his hind legs that got the dance and we all laughed at the sport. The euphoria evaporated when I saw the messenger post up the proclamation on the board. A Christmas Celebration was taking place at spiral castle, and every noble was to attend a ball that would last until midnight Christmas Eve. I've heard of staying up to see Santa but that was a little ridiculous. My phone buzzed, but I didn't need to look at it to tell me what it said.

I can't allow myself to fall in love with her. And you know you already have when you have to remind yourself.

We have started Cinderella. It's not quite what I expected. It's better. And it's worse.

Let's talk about how it's better first. Cinderella is kind and sweet. She has a gentle soul and a soft word. She's also drop dead gorgeous with a body that says, Lady, you can have all of my kids. WOLF! SHUT UP! God, this is the last time a do a dictation.

Cinderella is gorgeous. I mean really cute. Beautiful. Enchanting. But instead of this scrawny little girl that the story illustrations always protray of her, Cinderella looks like a woman who runs and maintains an entire household and farm all by herself. Powerful arms, wide hips, great legs, long auburn hair that comes down to her firm bottom.

Ahem! It's worse too. The house, if you can call it that, is in a state of decay, more than in disrepair. Cinderella is the only person in the entire world that raises a finger or pays to maintain it. She had to close down two whole wings of the mansion in order to cut back on heating and repairs, not to mention cleaning them. The barn is leaning, and the few animals that do live their seem to be living in a corner of it.

Her sisters are the biggest bitches the world has ever known. And her stepmother is definitely the demon that spawned them. And what's even worse, is that her father is still alive. The bastard and his libido got his natural daughter a bed in the kitchen fireplace. He even calls her Cinderella like the rest. Wolf almost hopefully suggested that her father might be bewitched, but I've seen enough enchantment to know whether a person is bewitched by spell, or bewitched with his dick.

Let's start from the beginning shall I? We approached the house, and I noticed the roof about to collapse. So I offered my services to Cinderella. Wolf mentioned she was hot. I told him this one was mine. Cinderella was crying when we approached and I was finally able to convince her that I was not a demon and I just wanted to help her with the house.

Cinderella is possibly the oddest of the bunch. She's dirty and smelly like she hasn't bathed in weeks, yet she has more charm than her two clean step sisters put together. These women were ugly in spirit. I could see how people would seem them as beautiful, but my ability to see past flesh put a stain on these women, and they look awful in my mind. Maybe it's just me.

It has been a while since I've last been angry. Oh, sometimes I'm annoyed. Sometimes I seem upset. But anger is a different thing. And I was definitely getting angry with these women. The sisters called Cinderella atrocious things and said the most callous remarks. For example they said, “Cinderella, I didn't know you could afford a repairman. Did you steal from us again to make up for your expenses? We didn't notice anything missing, so maybe you're whoring yourself out again?” At that point I started to quack. It's a nervous tic I do, which also gain me the name Psycho Duck. They just started to laugh more at me, which made me quack me. I was so close. I was so close. Then something more frightening than my quacking broke the laughter. The Big Bad Wolf began to growl. They shrieked, kicked him and ran away.

Cindy started to cry and said something like she wished someone would take her away from here. I said give me the word and I'd kill her family and we'll run to the nearest chapel. I'm so happy I was joking. The laughing fit she entered afterwards was kind of embarassing.

Christmas is coming and the goose is getting fat. I need to do something special for my girl. But tonight I sit waiting for Bookend. No sleep for this Duck tonight. Wolf sleeps in the barn and I'm posted on the roof I just repaired. The stars glitter without light pollution to block them. I'm going to rig a blue crystal to act as a security alarm in case I do sleep.

Snow has fallen over Tale Town, covering everything with a layer of melted marshmallows. Hey, if the river can taste like cream soda, why not marshmallow snow? Granted I haven't tasted it but that's not the point. I've been informed that Christmas is indeed just a few days away. Christmas has always been a special time for me. I don't go wild with presents or gifts or PDAs. I treat myself to an expensive meal, watch a movie and spend time wandering the quiet town with friends.

Tonight, however, is Winter Solstice. The longest night of the year. At least it's not the coldest. And I'm glad to have spent it with the Big Bad Wolf. Overall, he seems like a nice guy. He's clever and witty. The only thing that is at fault with him is that he's always hungry. And he's has to compete with humanity for food supply.

We're sitting on the roof of an inn, which is full for the night, and I use my BC spyglass to scan the stars and the horizon. I don't remember any specific fairy tales that happens on Christmas, unlesss you count Rudolph, Frosty and the Nativity Story as a Fairy Tale. I'd make a great drummer boy. Still, I scan just in case I see anything. All that caught my eye was the very impressive castle. It just screams Fairy Tale looking at it. It's seems to be made of towers stacked upon each other, spiraling up to the heavens as if to challenge the gods themselves. And from past experience, it's a pointless waste of time to do that.

I'm no shaman trained to combat the forces of darkness on this night. Nor am I intuned to plead with the heavens to bring back the light. All I can do this night is light a candle and pray someone is doing their job.

Once upon a time...

...there lived a shoemaker, who owned a small shop with his wife. He did well for himself, but times became hard, and soon all the Shoemaker had was enough leather for one pair of shoes. The Shoemaker felt like giving up hope, but his wife smiled, saying that their luck would soon change. The encouragement of his wife took him back to his work, where he cut out the leather for the shoes. But exhaustion soon came over him and he fell into a deep sleep.

When he woke up in the morning however, he found a pair of shoes where the leather had been. He looked over the shoes, and saw that they were made well, so he believed he must have made them in his sleep. He placed the shoes in the window, and no sooner had he done so then a customer entered and tried them on. So please he was with the shoes that he bought them for more than the asking price, and left wearing them.

The Shoemaker was overjoyed, for the money was enough to buy leather for three pairs of shoes. He went to work that night, but once again exhaustion from the excitement overcame him and he fell asleep, leaving the work undone. But when he awoke the next day, he found the leather had once again become finely crafted shoes. And when he put them in the window, customers would come in and purchase them for more than he asked. The same thing happened the third night and the next. And soon the Shoemaker found himself well off as he was before, with shoes on his shelf and money in his pocket.

One night, when the shoemaker and his wife were in bed, the wife asked if he had ever wondered who made the shoes at night. He said he had, but he could not stay up when he was at the bench at night. The wife suggested that they sneak down at night and see who might be making the shoes. And so, on the next night, the Shoemaker and his wife watched in astonishment when two elves appeared on the bench and neatly and cleanly crafted shoes from the leather the Shoemaker had left that evening. The elves themselves wore clothing that looked tattered and frayed, and the wife suggested they make little clothing for them as a thank you gift. They left the tiny coats and shoes on the bench and the following night the elves took the clothes and danced away.

...and they all lived happily ever after.

The Elves and the Shoemaker is in the bag, and we're off to our next destination. Well, not really. We're staying in Tale Town for now. I realize I've been writing little stories for each log instead of just short entries, but I'll continue doing that anyway. Gotta fill 7 terabytes somehow.

Wives are great. I made a small suggestion that it would be great to stay up, and off she goes to suggest they stay up to catch a glimpse of their nightly visitors. Story book couples are great. They love each other unconditionally and never argue with one another. They just take their frustrations and hostilities out on the kids. Anyway, we stayed up late and finally saw the elves, working on the bench*. I was even able to catch a shot of them with my camera. The first non-blurry fairy shot. Guess this will be big on YouTube. Anyway, they were wearing ratty clothing and the shoemaker suggested they make new clothing as a thank you gift.

They made these adorable little outfits the next day** and left them on the bench instead of leather for new shoes. And last night we stayed up and watched the little elves put on their new clothing and danced around. And then they left as happy as could be.

My cellphone tells me it is now a happily ever after for all. The shoemaker has money for leather, as well as house and home. And as for me, it's time for me to take my leave before they offer to shower me with more unnecessary generosity. But when we started to walk down the street, who should show up but the Elves themselves. Elves themselves. Teehee.

They were grateful for all that I had done for their story. And as their own parting gift they gave me my new jacket. Black leather trench coat, heavy just the way I like it and with enough pockets to store everything, as well as a built in scabbard. And they also gave us a pair of magical scissors, fashioned from blue crystals. They not only could cut through anything, but with a few snips here and a few snips their, they can create any clothing out of thin air. And with that last thanks, they poofed away.

With the scisors, I cut Wolf a red bandana for his neck. Christmas was coming soon, or so they told me. Wonder what we shall see.

*What's the technical term for making shoes?
*Out of the last of the material from my jacket, mind you
 

It's been two days, and I must say, I'm impressed with the elusiveness of our benefactors. Three shoes miraculously appeared on the bench during the night, which subsequently sold for a high price early in the morning. In a depression, a good pair of boots is an equally good investment.

After three days, it seems the whole town is walking around with my jacket on their feet. Every morning, shoes will sit on the workbench, even though he had gone to sleep from exhaustion. These are very altruistic spirits, I might add. Nothing stolen, not even a cracker from the tin. And nothing has been left behind. Not even a note that said, here are the shoes, Merry Christmas.

This would be scary, but it seems rather harmless at the moment. I wonder briefly if the Devil's following me, but I doubt this notion. I'm not sure any of the Devil's stories would involve making shoes.

Okay, this train of thought is not going in the right direction. Think. It's almost Christmas. Christmas is a time for charity. What else? Santa... Christmas Trees before Halloween in the Bay... obnoxious family gatherings.... Frosty. Wait, wrong train of thought. Got to focus. Christmas. Solistice. Santa. Santa sounds about right. Almost every culture had a Santa figure. Generous and all that. Time of giving. Fat guy giving toys made by elves. ELVES! The Fey! Forest folk! The tricksters! The Vulcans of Lord of the Rings. Or are Vulcans the Elves of Star Trek? The slave labor of the modern Santa myth. And the same ones that helped a shoemaker! The Elves and the Shoemaker.

Well, that explains why I didn't think about it before. Guess I should suggest staying awake to the wife, so she can suggest it to him.

The shoemaker's luck comes in leaps and bounds. I stayed up most of the night, all the while I listened as the shoemaker fiddled in his shop. I went in to check on him to find my poor leather jacket had been cut to pieces. Oh well, it's for the cause. But beside the masacre was a pair of decent leather boots. Not the kind you could get from Mark's in this day and age, but I'd wear them.

The shoemaker seemed as amazed as I was to see them. He said the stress of the chase had made him weary and hungry and thought he'd just rest his eyes for a second. Then he awoke to find this. Poor guy passed out from exhaustion. But then, who made the shoes?

Well, no point looking a gift shoe in the tongue. We put them in the window and sure enough, some dude came in, tries them on, loves them, buys them, leaves.

Now the shoemaker has enough money for a meal and leather for three shoes. He insistes on paying for a meal for me. Never pass up a free meal, my mentor always said.

I'm on watch again tonight, hoping to catch my enemy. Or if that fails, to catch a glimpse of what might be making the shoes.

One Once Upon A Time and six hours of running later...

So my enemy or enemy's forces decided to break in and steal his last piece of leather. Me and Wolf chased after this black clad figure through the town before losing him. Stupid enemies. Can't I just be able to do my job for once without something like this happening?

Anyway, we get back and find the Shoemaker breaking the news to his wife, who is of course hysterical. Not the 'Oh look at me, I'm a rotten bitch, how am I going to afford jewelry, I should never have married you' hysterical. More like, 'I'm going to have to live on the street, begging for food' hysterical. And the icing on the cake was that she told her husband she was three months pregnant.

At that I walked outside and weighed my options. I knew I could never catch the thief now. And I couldn't afford to buy a new piece of leather. And even if I could, I would know where to find one. Which also rules out stealing one myself. I thought about it more and thought it was useless. But the thought of the wife and Shoemaker on the street didn't settle right. As dark and depressing stories can be, I cannot see this one ending up on the street and wasting away. Then I came up with an idea. I gave him my leather jacket. I knew it wouldn't make the BEST shoes in the world, but it would be better than no shoes in the window to sell.

The wife kept blessing me, and I told the shoemaker to get to get to work as soon as he could. Me and Wolf took up sleeping in the shoe maker's shop by the door to make sure no one got in or out. No one's getting passed me ton

We have reached Fairy Tale Town. Fairy Tale Town is that place where, if a fairy tale takes place in a town, it happens here. Hence the name Fairy Tale Town. You think they'd be more imaginative, but can you name five cities named in an actual Fairy Tale? Supposedly it's real name is in German, and I can't pronounce it, let alone spell it. Wolf tells me that it's okay. Since it's the only real city in this world, everyone refers to it as 'Town'. Everything else is just one street villages and keeps.

'Town' is dominated by two towering and quite impressive castles. I'm not sure if that means the town has two kings or not. Someone told me they were actually Lords but they called them Kings or Princes*. The rest of the town includes a harbor, a marketplace with many shops, and homes ranging from manors, to small cottages to planks propped against the wall to hide under.

No one seems to take much notice of the huge wolf and his insanely dressed gnome companion in their midst. But they also walk around with little expression at all. These must be background characters. Not much in the way of personality or overall temperment. Still, it was a nice crowd. The characters walked, laughed, watched street performers and shopped at the impressive market place. Not as many people as I expected. And the prices of food were quite high. I soon learned why.

I noticed the signs in many of the windows. Apparently Bookend's trouble has caused Fairy Tales no end of trouble, as many of the places have Going Out Of Business signs or Closed in the middle of the day. I guess if you don't know who you are and where you're going, it's understandable.

I'm sitting, writing this in the store of a worried young shoemaker. I entered his store to see if I could get some repairs done on my own shoes. Walking through rough terrain and running from angry Fairy Tale characters takes its toll. He was amazed at my shoe design, saying he never seen anything like them**, but he thought that with a simple gluing, they might be able to survive the rest of the trip.

I had little to pay him, so I offered him some scrambled eggs from the market and a piece of gold. Over this meal, he opened up to his situation. Apparently he's at the end of his money and wits. So much so that all he had left in the world was one last piece of leather, enough for one last pair of shoes. Me and Wolf had looked at each other and we wished him our blessings.

I'm sure it... I'll bb, the guy's screaming something.

*Mem: See if you can find a hierarchy list of royalty around here. Who's actually in charge of this place?
**Sneakers is quite the concept for 14^th century minds

Once  upon a time...

....a wanderer came upon a small cottage, and since it would soon be dark, he knocked on the door. The cottage belonged to a woman, who upon seeing the wanderer, in his dirty clothes and haggard appearance, thought very little of the man who stood before her. The wanderer entreated upon the woman, asking for some food to eat and a roof over his head for the night would be cold. The woman told the wanderer that she had not even food to feed herself, but she would allow the wanderer a place in her tool shed to sleep.

The wanderer had noticed the garden where the woman grew her flowers, as well as rows of vegetables that could feed a growing family. But instead of being rude and confrontational, he decided to be clever.

He said to the woman that he sympathized with her plight, and offered her a gift in exchange for lodgings. He would make for her a soup from a stone. The woman had not heard of such a thing before, and invited the wanderer in to show her this marvel. He picked a stone from the door step and placed it in the boiling pot on the fire. He stirred the water every now and then and took in a deep breath. He said that the soup was almost ready, and it would be really good. But it would be even better, if it could have a little bit of salt. The woman, excited by this wonderful soup, said she might have some, and went to her cupboard and poured some salt into the water. The wanderer continued, stirring his pot, and said it was a pity that they did not have carrots, because carrots would make it better. The woman, still excited, said she might have a few carrots. She chopped them up and put them into the soup.

And so it continued. The wanderer would stir his soup, and hint at another ingredient that would make it just right. The woman would fetch it and place it in, excited to see what a soup made from a stone would be like. At last, it was done and the two ate from the soup made from a stone. The woman was so pleased, she let the wanderer sleep in her bed and herself sleep in the shed.

The wanderer left early, leaving only the stone behind...

...and they all lived happily ever after.

Apparently a couple. We completed another story almost by accident today.

We finally left the woods in exchange for farm land. Rolling hills of green crops and other vegetation that the children won't eat. As we came across another small one street village. It was really more of a a farm with a built in general store, with a dozen or so men and their ladies both working and living there. We were looking to stay to have something to eat and maybe a bed to rest in. But they told me and Wolf that there had been a drought going on and have no food to feed even themselves. And if we wanted to have a place to rest, we had to rest in the barn.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm not sure how a green fields I just past translates to drought conditions. Unless it's acid rain, and it's actually exposed copper*. And why was there so many people on the farm if there was? Wouldn't they be trying to find work during a season of drought on another farm? I can smell bullshit. These people just didn't want to give us food. Probably because we're drifters, but most likely because I'm a guy with a trap-jaw for a mouth and I'm hanging out with the Big Bad Wolf. Wolf wanted to vamoosque, but I had a better idea.

I stood in front of the house and told the farm workers not only could I make food for myself but for the entire household and their food problems would be over. This got their attention, as free food usually does. I said all I needed was a pot of boiling water and I could make soup from a stone! Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. Okay, MORE crazy. I already looked marginally insane.

Still, a pot was issued and filled with water and I picked an ordinary stone from the ground and dropped it in.  Wolf asked me what was the plan. I told him I planned not to starve.

The water boiled and I tested the boiling hot water. I put on a show of throughly enjoying the scalding water, saying how it tasted wonderful. I then said it was a pity we didn't have even a little bit of salt. Bless me if one of the maidens said they think they might have a little salt and we put it in. I tasted the now scalding hot salt water and said pity we didn't have any carrots. You get the idea. Soon I had everyone putting a bit of food in. And lo and behold, I produced from the pot a delicious soup made from a stone**.

I'm sure some of them figured out what I did, but I hope it just means they were taught a lesson. Their selfishness almost kept them from a clever friend. I sleep in the best bed they have tonight and I'm given directions to the next town. Apparently I'm being sent to the capitol, the city I had seen a couple of weeks ago by the stream. Feels like forever.

*Wolf would like to take this oppurtunity to point out how I think way to much.
**Mem: Thank dwarves for recipie next time I see them

Once upon a time...

...a woman was transformed by a terrible curse into a flower and planted in the meadow by the city in which she lived. At night however, she transformed back into a human, but would change back at the dawn. One night she went to her husband and laid by his side, whispering into his ear of the terrible fate bestowed upon her and pleading with him to go at the dawn into the meadow to pluck her and bring her home. And soon before the dawn she left.

When the husband awoke, he went to the meadow and picked her from all of the flowers and brought her home. He know it to be her, as all the flowers in the meadow had gathered the dew, save his wife, who was not there. And so her enchantment was broken...

...and they all lived happily ever after

I just had an interesting experience. We stopped for the night at an inn in a one street village. It took the rest of my gold to stay there, but its nice to have some hot food and previsions for the next big hike. Wolf noted that the people in the village seemed glum. I started to remark it was probably nothing, but he reminded me that Fairy Tale people were always happy unless something was wrong.

We went to bed shortly after a little philisphical battle. Nothing like taxing your mind to make you tired. Then again, there's nothing like taxing your mind WHEN your tired. My cellphone must have went off, but I slept through it. In the middle of the night, a woman entered our room and slipped into bed besides Wolf, waking him with a caress and a murmur*.

Anyway, she whispered into Wolf's ear that she was an enchanted whatever, under a curse that turned her into a flower by day. She implored Wolf to help her break free of her enchantment. The depraved idiot, quite understandably, agreed. The woman was overjoyed at finding a hero and the two spent the night together, which is Fairy Taleese for fornicating**.

So in the early morning, Wolf woke me up. I hope he learns after this why this is a bad idea. When you wake me up, I stay asleep for a good while, even though I'm verticle. Here is an interpretation of the sensory input I was able to extrapolate from my memory core.

Something was trying to wake me up. This is never a good idea. I don't care if it's enemy or lover, assassin or fire, I want to sleep through all of it. So I engaged the deterence. Deterence hit something hard. Something stops saying “Psycho Duck wake up! WAKE UP!” in favor of yelping in pain. Happy feeling spreads back as I'm allowed to fall back asleep. Something registers to be Wolf. Wolf explains the urgeancy to wake up. I ask if there is a fire. We says no. I said nothing else is important. I fall back asleep. Wolf wakes me up and begins to move me. This is unpleasant, but I try my best to use this as an oppurtunity to spend the least amount of energy to where he'll eventually take me. He babbled about a woman entering our room, saying that she needed help. He agreeded to help and she spent the night. I asked if he paid her, they're usually upset if you don't. He said he'd buy me breakfast. I decided it was time to wake up.

He told me the whole story as I wrote, and soon we were in the garden looking at three identical orange tulips. It was then he told me that we could only pick ONE of these flowers. One of them was the woman he spent the night with. The others were evil witches that ate babies. I could see the headlines; Psycho Duck Fails Quest by Saving Baby Eating Witch. Of course no one reades the body story where it says because the Big Bad Wolf can't keep it in his pants.

So we had a riddle. How do we tell which of these flowers wase the woman? All were tulips, all were orange, all were in a row, and all looked like they were in the ground a while.

That's when I got the idea. She spent the night with us. What happens to plants at night? Collect dew. So the plant with little to no dew on her must be the plant. Sure enough, she was the non dewy one. From what I heard, she may not have gotten dew, but she sure got wet. Hehe. We gathered her up and brought her back to her people. She was so thankful, saying things like she would bind herself to us forever and stuff like that. Wolf started to talk all harlequinny, but one zap from the vorpal tazer stopped that line of thought. I simply asked for our money back.

A text message came when we left the village. I wonder how many stories I will miss the text message for. We left in haste.

*It was later revealed to me that she tried with me first, but I didn't respond favorably, as I explained later
**If I use any other term, I'm going to bring images that I really don't want to envision

Once upon a time...

...there lived a soldier who fought in a war torn land. He was brave and strong, could shoot the straightest and was always found in the heat of battle. But one day, peace was proclaimed and the soldier found himself not knowing what to do. When he went home, his brothers all thought he was good for nothing, and turned him away.

The soldier wandered till he had nothing less but a gun in his hand and the clothes on his back. He knelt to his knees. "There is peace, and all I am good for is war. What am I to do with myself?" He asked.

Suddenly beside him appeared the Devil, in a green coat. The Devil said that he will give him power, wealth and fame, but he would not give his charity unto a coward. The Devil summoned a ferocious bear, which attacked the soldier. But with quick thinking, the soldier shot the bear with a bullet to the head. And then the Soldier said he would not enter any deal that may endanger his salvation. So the Devil made a him a proposition.

The Devil cut the bear's skin from it's body and spoke the terms. The Soldier would spend seven years wandering the world. And during that time, the Soldier was not to wash himself, cut his nails or hair, nor was he to do anything that would do his body any good. He was also not allowed to say his prayers to God or ask him for any help. The bearskin that he gave him was to be his cloak and his only bed. Should the Soldier die in those seven years, or do any of the things he was not supposed to, his soul will be the Devil's property However, if he were to survive, he would make the Soldier clean, and wealth, fame and power on top of it, as well as his eternal salvation.

The Soldier agreed and took the deal. The Devil gave him the green coat he wore. He told the Soldier that the coat's pocket was full of gold and would always be. 'Spend it however you like.' The Devil than gave him the bearskin, and said. "From this day on, you shall be known as Bearskin." And he was gone.

And so Bearskin began his wanderings, and he gave freely of his gold and kind words, asking each person he helped to pray for his soul so that he might survive his terrible ordeal. His appearance was tolerable the first year, but by the second, he already began to look more like a beast, with long claws and a shaggy mane. But his manner was still gentle and he helped wherever he could.

During his fifth year, he came upon a Merchant who was in debt and could no longer support his family. When Bearskin settled the man's affairs and gave him gold so that he could be wealthy again, the Merchant was so grateful, he offered one of his daughters to be his bride. Upon meeting Bearskin however, one of the daughters actually shrieked and fled. The second turned her nose, saying she could never marry a man who was no more than a beast n appearance. The youngest however, touched by Bearskin's charity, agreed to marry Bearskin. Bearskin took a gold ring a snapped it in half and gave one half to her, asking that she would pray for him. The sisters gave her no mercy, saying that Bearskin would never return, or that he might come back as more of a monster.

At last, the seven years were up, and Bearskin fulfilled his side of the bargin. The Devil took back the green coat angrily, and did as he promised. He washed him clean and gave him great wealth and power. And so Bearskin went in style to his fiancee's home. The Merchant believed Bearskin must be a famous general, and never tought it could be the man who saved him. The two eldest daughters warmed to this handsome young stranger. But the youngest wore only black and did not speak. When Bearskin said he would take one of them for his wife, the two sisters ran to make themselves ready, believing they were the one. But Bearskin revealed his half of the ring to the youngest, and they were overjoyed at finally being together.

The sisters came back to find that he chose the youngest, and that he was Bearskin. They were so angry and jealous that they ran from the house and jumped down the well. And so the Devil smiled, being able to have two souls instead of just Bearskin's.

The youngest did not grieve for her sisters as she wed her beloved...

...and they all lived happily ever after.
 

Well, that was certainly a trip. Seems like forever, but I'll have to trust Wolf that it has only been two months. Two months of constant panic attacks and no sleep. Well, not NO sleep, but you get what I mean. I took a lot of pictures and used the log to jot down a lot of notes, but nothing for what I have been doing. But one fairy tale is now done, and I am closer to understanding the nature, if not the identity, of my enemy. Looking over the notes, I'll give you the jist of what happened.

Me and Wolf were trying to cut through the muggy and muddy part of the forest when a flash storm took us by surprise. We hurried to find shelter in an outcropping of rock and there we found a monster. Or so we thought. It turned out to be a haggard and broken man, mumbling incoherent words. He was all dirty and disheveled. It looked and smelled like he hadn't cleaned himself in years. I went to wash some of his wounds when he hit me, saying something about being so close.

I gave him something to drink at least and he became more coherent. His name was Bearskin*. He was a poor soldier who struck a deal with the Devil. He was to poor hygiene, not cut his hair, nails, armpits, sleep in a bed or say his prayers to God**. If he survived for seven years like that, the Devil would make him rich and powerful for the rest of his days. But if you lose, the Devil gets your soul! Insert violin solo here.

It has been nearly seven years, and he had seen much of this world. Greencoat; what the local call this particular devil, gave him his green coat, which pockets would always be filled with money. He helped many a man in trouble in hopes for prayers to save him. One man in particular offered his daughter to Bearskin to be his betrothed. Dang it, I've been here too long, I'm starting to talk like them. His fiancee was obviously the nicer of the sisters, and waited for him. At least we think she is.

In two weeks the curse would be over, but he must make it to the glade where he first met the Devil. But forces had driven him here, away from his path and left him to die.

I never heard of Bearskin's story before, but it looked like this guy was at Death's door. And with the buzzing in my pocket, I knew I would do everything in my power to help him see this through to the end.

A week and a half carrying him through the woods and half of one climbing a hill, never sleeping till we dragged Bearskin to his fateful meeting. The Devil showed up in all his glory, looking like a simple man in a soldier's coat. He, reluctantly, was good to his word and blessed Bearskin with the wealth and hygiene that he promised. And off we went in style to meet his beloved.

What originally took Bearskin five years of random wandering had taken the horse and carriage a month and a half to do. Wolf and me watced the reunion of Bearskin and extremely cute girl through a window. She didn't recognize him***, and neither did her extremely hot sisters, on the account he discovered deoderant. I have a thing about beauty though, I can see a bit of the soul inside of women, and these girls had an aura that just screamed profaine words to describe a woman that made Wolf hit me off the back side of my head.

Bearskin however produced half of the ring he kept as a keepsake of their meeting. She was thrilled. The sisters were less so. They killed themselves shortly after.

We made our way from the story, a text message proudly informing me of their happily ever after. Soon however, Greencoat appeared before us to personally thank me for completing one of his stories. I asked wasn't he angry that I helped thwart him? The Devil laughed and said that the story needed to be told. His evil did not stem from vanity or greed. Evil only exists as long as there are stories to tell about it. He said in the absence of darkness, light must prevail. Fairy tales are useless without an oposing force, so in fact, we did him a service to let people know that he was out there. And something about once an idea is in a person's head, it changes them. I'll have to think about that.

In the meantime, he mentioned that he was in my debt and offered me a boon. Riches, power and knowledge was mine for the asking, and at his command to give. Wolf whispered about the folly of making deals with the Devil, but there was something I knew would not screw up, and might also be in the Devil's interest. I asked him for knowledge of my enemy, and I showed him the gargoyle needle.

He told me he would give cryptic clues as to my enemy****.  I recorded the Devil's words:

Ah the Gargoyle. You were correct in a sense, my dear Duck. The Gargoyle is usually found in places to protect areas and things. But they are not solely agents of good against evil. They are more like wards, and their design and purpose are as unique as each gargoyle themselves. Some can have such importance as sentries of buildings, while others have a less grand but equally important job of keeping books propped up on a shelf. Like... a bookend.

It clicked to me, as he knew it would. I'm not sure how it would help me find him, but i knew my enemy's intention. To end all stories and books.

With that, the Devil disappeared, because as it is said, the Devil ALWAYS has the last word.. But the words of the Devil rang. I thank you for completing ONE of my stories.

*The name was obviously derived from the bear skin, which besides a green vest was all he that wore
**Duh
***That's okay, neither could we
****Of course, he couldn't tell me outright. Stupid cryptic assholes. But as a tutor of mine once said, where is the fun without a shitload of complications?
 

I'm glad I invited Wolf to travel with me. He is quite the clever character, and more than happy to talk about fairy tales and philosophy with me. We had an interested disscussion about pigs. Specifically his.

The Three Little Pigs is one of those stories I always found weird, mainly because it was so popular, yet I could never figure out why. He talked a bit about popularity and repetition. The story is quite easy to remember with its repeated lines, and very linear based. Lines like, “Then I'll huff, and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in”, invited children almost to join it with the story, helping them remember them. Other examples were Three Bears, this porridge is too hot, etc.

The point about huffing and puffing led me to remark to his lung capacity. He smiled, talking about how wolves howl, and how the wind howled as well. Beware the wolf in the wind. If your house is not strong enough, it'll blow you in. I thought it might be a good answer, if not the right one. I asked him if he actually HAD that power. He smiled, puckering up his lips and blasted out a gush of air that rustled the leaves of the trees hundreds of meters away. This guy's good.

Apparently there ARE houses made of straw. We talked a bit about straw brick making and methods of reinforcing it, but it involves bits of hardened mud to compress the straw together. Or something like that. The pig made his house out of loose straw.

I asked about eating the pigs. I heard some versions where the pigs ran to the next house. He said not to sell the pigs short. Some pigs are really fast. Besides, you can get winded blowing down houses, it might take awhile to recover.

I came to the ending of the story, when the pigs end up eating HIM. He laughed at that, but he told me that some endings it happens, sometimes he just gives up and sometimes they just boil him in water. I was amazed at the thought of pigs eating a wolf. He told me pigs would eat anything if they were hungry enough. He told me about a pig farm where the pigs escaped. Apparently the procceded to destroy the ecosystem for miles around, eating grass, tree bark, crops and drinking up the ponds.

I have slightly more respect for pigs now, but I wonder about whether we'll get to that story.

Once upon a time...

There lived a little girl whose hair shined like locks of gold, and she became known as Goldilocks to everyone in town. Everyday before breakfast, Goldilocks would play out in the garden while mother made the meal. And everyday her mother would tell Goldilocks not to stray from the garden where she could see her and never to run into the forest, for bears lived there.

In a cottage in the forest there lived a family of three bears. A father, a mother and a small cub. They ate from three bowls. they sat in three chairs and they slept in three beds, each one smaller than the next. One morning, they had porridge for breakfast and poured it into their three bowls. But the porridge was so hot, it could scald the inside of your mouth, so they went for a walk in the forest while they waited for their bowls to cool.

That very same morning, Goldilocks was playing in the garden. But she could hear her mother making porridge for breakfast. Goldilocks hated porridge, so to teach her mother a lesson, she ran from the garden and into the woods. She ran long and far until she no longer knew where she was. There, she thought, that would teach my mother. But she had never been alone in the woods without someone before. And soon she became frightened and she ran. And  the more she ran, the more she got lost.

Soon she came upon a cottage in the forest. The door was unlocked and no one seemed to be home. So she went inside to wait. On the table she saw three bowls filled with porridge. And since she was so hungry, she would eat almost anything. So she went to the largest bowl and took a spoonful. But it was too hot. She took a spoonful from the smaller bowl, but it was too cold. And she took a bite from the smallest bowl, and it was perfect. So perfect in fact that she ate the whole thing.

After eating her fill, she felt like resting and explored the house for somewhere to sit. She found a room with three chairs, each one smaller than the next. She sat in the big chair, but it was too hard. She sat in the smaller chair, and it was too soft. And she sat in the littlest chair, and it was just right. Or so she thought. In fact, Goldilocks was too big for the littlest chair and soon it broke under her weight.

Goldilocks felt tired. It must have been time for her nap. So she went looking through the cottage again and found a room with three beds, each smaller than the next. She tried the large bed, but it was too big. She tried the smaller bed, but it was too big. She tried the smallest bed and it was just right. And soon she fell asleep.

Soon however, the Three Bears returned from their walk. And they discovered their door ajar, their food eaten and their chair broken. And when they found Goldilocks in their bed, they were furious. Goldilocks woke to find three angry bears over her and she ran from their house and ran as fast as she could until she reached home. Goldilocks promised to never again go into the woods or complain about porridge for breakfast. The Bears repaired the chair and made a new breakfast...

...and they all lived happily ever after.

Another story has been concluded. By accident. Wolf and I came upon a house in the woods. Being hungry, and the door being unlocked, we broke in and looked around. Bowls of porridge covered the table. One was too hot, one was too cold and one was definitely a bowl of porridge. Me and Wolf agreed that porridge was something neither of us wanted, so we raided the pantry of anything edible, and I got a Victorian food preservation lesson from Wolf. Man how did these guys survived without fridges, I'll never know. The answer was not very well, as average life expectancy was in the range of 26 to 33. I made the joke about happily ever after at the middle age of 15. Wolf laughed at that.

We ate some dried cranberries and honey, and we swiped a loaf of bread. I played with the thought of making a cooler with BCs, but decided against it. It would probably take to many, and I would have to carry it around.

Moving along, we left the house and started to walk along a new path. Wolf said something about leaving the Forest of Mystery soon. Along the path we met a girl with golden hair lost in the woods. We pointed her in the direction of the house we left, saying they might have directions and we continued on. Then Wolf and I put one and three together and came to the same conclusion. And the text message ring only confirmed it.

We made it back in time, but we were only there to make sure my enemy didn't lock her in. We watched her eat the porridge, break their furniture and sleep in their beds. Honestly, now that I see it, I can totally understand why the bears got angry.

Goldilocks made it out, screaming like a little girl being chased by three angry bears. She was more frightened than in danger because the bears discovered US with their honey. Hilarity ensued. We made a compromise enough and the Bears were kind enough to give us directions*. By tomorrow we might be out of the forest. It might be raining soon.

*They kicked us in the right direction.

I'm beginning to wonder about my role in Fairy Tales again. Sleeping Beauty made me think about my role regarding time. Her story began over a hundred years ago. I know my enemy could have easily misplaced the spinning wheel to mix up the events, but maybe my enemies weren't around then. I'm not afraid to take an active role in fairy tales, having taken active enough roles in guiding characters and being there at key events, but I wonder about the time constraints on me.

It's not that I'm in a rush to go home, as I know from experience that as soon as this is over I'll be transported back to the exact moment I left. So I'm not afraid to take my time, but I still wonder about time. Some Fairy Tales take place in an afternoon, while other take days, weeks, months, even years before the story reaches it's conclusion. Some characters have children for Pete's sake. And then those children grow up to become other characters. Who then have children.

Take the all too common theme of evil person comes to claim what is 'rightfully theirs' years later. Or sleeping for years, or having children. If I were to pledge myself to a story, does that mean I have to stay with it through to the end? Can I start another story? What if I'm starting one story and another one needs to be fulfilled at the same time? It hurts my head, and I'm probably just worrying to much. Time to rest.