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Continue reading →: Das Waldhaus“I saw it once when I was a child,” Nana told the children sitting before her. “Was it as big as a house?” asked the child. “It was a house, my dear, and in it lived an amazing woman,” answered her grandmother. “Papa told me the Forest House was a…
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Continue reading →: Remembrance“I hear them, the children playing in the courtyards, the woman laughing, and the man chatting near the square. All their voices live inside my head,” said the prince. Thuman had once been “heir apparent” to the troll kingdom. That was before the Dark One came with his Troth minions…
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Continue reading →: Squire of Avalon“It will be dark soon, Efficacious,” said the Squire. “I sense danger to the north. We should camp here for the night,” the fox replied. “Another night in the wild? I swear you to love the outdoors life,” said Acacious, who flew up to perch on a low limb. “Hush,…
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Continue reading →: Perchance to Dream“Tired, so tired. How long has it been since Gunar left?” said the troll as he climbed the steep slope. Trundle was the last of the Icelandic Trolls. There had once been hundreds, but time and humans took them, leaving only one. “The moon is lovely tonight,” thought the troll.…
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Continue reading →: What’s For Dinner?“I hate rats,” said Thuman. The troll traveled to the southern gate to stop the Ratlings from sneaking into the forest. “It will be your mission to stop Ratling scouts,” the elders had instructed Thuman. “I can handle a hundred Wolvers, but rats, why rats? I hate their pointy noses…
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Continue reading →: Pairs of WingsDeath From Above: During the battle for Ãlskad, the beloved forest, Mörken the Dark One used Kanthri bats as weapons against the Waldvolker. The Kanthri were fast and highly maneuverable compared to the swans the Waldvolker used. Unfortunately for many Troth pilots, the Kanthri proved too erratic in their flight…
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Continue reading →: Good Old Days“I miss the good old days,” said the Cyclops. “What do you mean?” asked the Goblin. “I miss all the mashing, crushing, and stomping on villagers,” replied the Cyclops. “God, how I miss the screaming. Now you get, “Hey ugly, stop repressing my rights or some other thing,” the Troglodyte…
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Continue reading →: Cold ComfortI sense danger, Mistress,” said the Tutu. “Yes, I sense it as well,” remarked Fern. Fern had heard the rumors that a dark specter was roaming Folksburywoods. “I don’t like this, Franny. Winter is a time of quiet in the woods. It must be the work of a necromancer,” Fern…
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Continue reading →: Hidden Folk“I swear, Angus, I saw him out the corner of my eye on Merlin’s Crossing last Tuesday. When I turned to get a better look, he and the bird were gone,” said Tom Flannery. “T’was a Hidden Folk for sure. I used to see’em when I was a young’en,” remarked…
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Continue reading →: Pen Pals“Hurry up, Petunia, we need to get off the road as soon as possible,” exclaimed Tiberius. “Mercy, you are a cruel one today. I was getting my step, and now we must rush off to some ditch,” complained the donkey. “Better a ditch than a glue factory, I say,” remarked…
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Continue reading →: Slow TimeCooter wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed but was personable enough. Folk in Butler like Coot’s hogshead soup. About three times a year, he heads to the farmers’ market. He buys a hog’s head there. “Cooter will tell you the secret to a mighty fine soup is half bottle…
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Continue reading →: Anya’s Regret“I should have gone after her. Why didn’t I?” the matron asked herself over the years. Anya was still young at the time. Her elder sister set out on a stormy night to secure bitter root for their mother’s aching tooth. Tytanya was never seen again. Eighty years, and the…
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Continue reading →: Moon Struck“Deary me, you’re as gitty as a schoolgirl on her first day,” teased Gojeck. “Hush! You know how important tonight is. Help me tie my corset so I can be off. Yeah, old codger,” snapped Anya. On the night of the harvest moon, the matron of Folksburywoods travels to Merlin’s…
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Continue reading →: A Wee Door in the WoodIn the wildwood lives a tiny man in a tree with a wee little door. You will find him eating his tea and cakes. In the evenings, he sits outside watching the setting sun. Then, late-night walks to gather moonberries and marshmallow pies. On Saturdays, he eats gooseberry pie with…
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Continue reading →: Caim“When I was little, Nana gave me the gift of the Caim,” Maura told her sister. “I don’t understand. What is a Caim?” asked Gauta. “Sanctuary,” answered her elder. “You mean like a holy place, that sanctuary?” questioned the younger. “Well, not exactly. Caim is an invisible circle of protection…
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Continue reading →: Weary Travlers“Hurry along, Cedric. We don’t want to be late for tea,” the hobo said to the clown. “Food is all you ever think about. Why not enjoy the moment instead of dashing full speed into the unknown?” replied the clown. “As you wish,” said Bartholomew while he tried to catch…
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Continue reading →: Souls of AnimalsKneeling over the fallen creature, the girl laid her hand upon its body. “She’s still warm,” said Astra. “What killed it? There are no marks, and a predator wouldn’t leave it behind,” remarked Ramn. “It seems as though it lay down and went to sleep, intending never to wake up.…
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Continue reading →: Her Witchy WaysFarina doesn’t like being a witch. She thought of herself as a provider of magical services. The covenant was unhappy, and Granny Stockholm told her she was treading on thin ice. “Child, we have ways of dealing with upstarts, so mind your P’s and Q’s,” said the witch. Farina couldn’t…
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Continue reading →: VargamorAlone in their dark woods, the Vargamor or Wolf-crones seek to avoid prying eyes. “Best not go in them woods,” the barkeep warned the traveler. “Young’en those that go in don’t always come out,” he added. Gretchen’s parents died when she was a baby—the Vicar’s attempts to find the baby…
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Continue reading →: Stairs“I don’t want to go, Josef. I want to stay here with you,” the plant pleaded. “Dear Ingeborg, I would love that more than anything. The great fires have made a burning smoke which will kill you,” said the farmer. Josef’s wife had died several months ago from the smoke,…
Twisted Tales to Delight and Amaze
Christopher Johnson
Christopher is a retired professor of science and medical education and a children’s author living in Taiwan. He has over 30 years of experience working in higher education internationally. Originally from Huron, Ohio, in the United States, he spent his childhood playing in Lake Erie and Sawmill Creek.
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