From the depths of my grandfather’s records, out of the jungle of articles, snippets, and ticket stubs, I have rescued a treasure: a series of most peculiar folktales. These are not the sanitized fairy stories one can buy in bookshops nor are they the older, darker tales one finds in reality. Like Grandfather’s story, these are new creations.

 

A third party wrote them, one intimately connected with the Alpine incident. That is all I will tell you for now, dear Reader, until I otherwise see fit. 

 

Your editor,

 

Evelyn

 

 

Two Little Blackbirds

Once upon a time, there were two little blackbirds. One was older and supposedly wiser. One was younger and certainly kinder. These little creatures were cousins and shared Mother and Father’s nest in a tall, solitary oak.

 

The little blackbirds did not like the tree, for its close leafs stifled their breath and the dusty nest made them sneeze. They would often escape it to fly about the Meadow, playing among the long grass and gentle winds.

 

The elder blackbird preferred the Meadow to the tree, but did find it tiresome. The elder’s great swoops and dives did not impress any of the other birds, for with a field so soft and calm, any old bird could manage such tricks had they the mind to do them, or at least so they claimed.

 

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