A story no one tells

One day, when the world was young, the Lord of Pain awoke, and decided that he wanted a flower. This is not the sense in which you or I want a flower. Rather, he wanted a flower to be under his domain, to be a thing of Pain, forever enmeshed in his word.

Now, there was no Lady of Flowers, for flowers were not of sufficient importance in the time before we walked the land. Pain did not know how to find the Lady of Trees, to ask of her such a favor, and he was unsure if flowers grew on trees anyway. He did know that flowers had sap in their stems, and sap is much like blood, and he was good friends with the Knight of Blood, so he paid him a visit.

He found Blood in a valley, wielding a sword that blotted out the sun every time he lifted it above his head, only to bring it crashing down upon the body of a great beast, hacking off chunks of flesh that ran red with the thing's blood. Pain asked Blood what he was doing, and Blood replied that he busy carving Hope into manageable pieces. Pausing from his labor, he wiped the blood from his brow (for he did not bother to sweat as mere a fluid as salted water), and asked Pain why he had come.

Pain told Blood of his desire, and Blood agreed to help, on one condition. The flower must be the color of Blood, that all would know who helped Pain get his wish, adding to Blood's already-great honor. This was a simple thing to agree to, for Pain was blind, and did not much care for colors. Once they had shaken hands on this, Blood told Pain to speak with the Mistress of Love, for Love had a great fondness for flowers.

Love was easy to find, for her smell ran off from her like a river that crashed along and hit one soundly in the face before capering off like a mad imp. She was, like she always was, naked, for it is the nature of Love to bare all. Being blind, Pain could only know this from the lack of sound her nonexistent garments made as she moved about. He told her of his desire for a flower, and she, too, agreed to help him with one stipulation. The flower must smell like her, so that all who hold it will think of Love. Her smell was pleasant enough to a Lord of the world like him, so he agreed to this too. Then, she told him that flowers were being held hostage by Winter, and that Pain would need to talk to him.

Winter was a curious being. He accepted no title, and would not call anyone by theirs. He was callous and rude, and always spoke the truth. For this, his counsel was much valued. Many a primal one went before Winter for the privilege of being insulted by him.

Pain came to Winter's hovel, and Winter called him a fool for coming to that cold place. It was true. Pain then asked him if he could have a flower, and Winter replied that he was withholding flowers on account of a dispute with that self-righteous idiot Summer, who styled himself a Marquis.

Disheartened, Pain still asked if he could have just one flower, that looked like Blood and smelled like Love and felt like Pain. Winter laughed, and said yes, on one condition—the flower must grow only in summer, for he hated Blood and Love and Pain and Summer alike, and the worst punishment he could think of was to lock all them together in a small room. And with that, he gave Pain the Rose, and it was his.

Old Goat, New Tricks

The troll pulled open the glass door, and tromped on in to the McGrimm's, the Golden Bridges over the door boldy highlighting the way. Inside, he stood for a few seconds, adjusting to the light, and scratched at the wart on his nose with the tree trunk he carried around for this purpose. Perusing the menu, he made up his mind and got in line. In front of him was a man with a young girl hanging on to his pant leg. "Look, daddee! I's a monster!"

The father took her hand and turned back towards the counter, whispering at her, "Now dear, it's not nice to make a fuss."

A seeming eternity later, the troll reached the counter. With a deep, booming voice, he called out, "I'd like the McGoat combo, and make the drink a Coke."

The pimply high schooler behind the counter stared at him through greasy glasses and asked in a nasal voice, "Uh, we don't have Coke. Is Pepsi fine?"

"Yes, yes."

"Oh, and I can supersize that for 59¢."

"Uh, good, do that."

"I, uh, can supersize it again for another 59¢."

"Sure, do it again."

And then the supersupersized McGoat sandwich reared up and charged right at the troll, bun-butting him square in the chest and sending him flying through the restaurant's front window, landing on the asphalt with a tinkle of broken glass. "No shirt, no shoes, no service, baaad-boy! Cantcha read?!"

Fortuitous Scarlet Cloak

This is the tale of Fortuitous Scarlet Cloak, a most skilled and devout child of the Fire Dragon. One great day, her mother entreated her to pay her respects to her most venerable and esteemed ancestress and, being the dutiful child that she was, she agreed without hesitation. As a token of the family's gratitude for her labors in upbringing them, Fortuitous Scarlet Cloak wrapped the choicest of moon cakes in rice paper, placed them with a hand-woven basket her younger sister had made, and set off towards the great manse of her glorious ancestress.

The way to the manse lay through a dark and twisted wood, whose spirits had fallen from their proper place in the cycle and become corrupt, twisted manifestations of wrong thought. As she wandered through the wood, she came upon a strange, tall man. "What big teeth he has," she thought to herself, noting how they glinted silver in the wan sunlight the filtered down through the many layers of leaves. Being a proper and respectful youth, she did not comment upon his teeth to the traveller.

"And where might you be going?" inquired the strange man, his hand idly scratching the old tattoos that wound across his skin.

"To visit my ancestress to convey the respects of her children and her children's children, of which I am one," she replied.

"Indeed," said the man, "May you reach your destination without incident." He nodded absently, and watched as Fortuitous Scarlet Cloak continued down the path. As soon as she was out of his sight, he set off through the forest like the wind, touching the ground with but one footfall in five, each leaf and twig bending out of his way in deference to his passing. Unhindered and fleet of foot, traveling as the crow flies, he arrived at the gates of the manse long before Fortuitous Scarlet Cloak was halfway there.

The man passed his hand in front of his face and when it was gone, so was he. In his place, stood Fortuitous Scarlet Cloak, who approached the gates and swung the heavy bronze knocker. After a moment, from within came the sound of footsteps, followed by a query in a old dry voice, like a wind that has blown past too many mountains in its time. "Who is it, my child?"

"It is I, ancestress, your most humble and grateful granddaughter," came the reply, though a careful observer wold have noted that the sound seemed to emerge from a spot just too high to be the girl's mouth.

With a slow grinding the heavy door swung aside, revealing the ancestress in her shining white robe. Faster than the eye could see, Fortuitous Scarlet Cloak flashed into the man from before, who grew into a great Wolf-Beast that sprang forth and clamped its terrible jaws over the ancestress's ancient head, which gave forth one faint shriek and fell silent. Greedily, the beast crunched upon the ancestress's body, splattering gore as the fangs worked flesh and bone like overripe fruit. The smile that spread across the monster's face as it pulled forth the heart and swallowed it whole would have been terrible to behold.

Meanwhile, Fortuitous Scarlet Cloak continued her trek through the woods, and in her own time came to the manse of her ancestors. She reached forth to swing the knocker, but noted that the door was slightly ajar. Concerned, she pushed on it, and it swung open, allowing her to call into the manse for her ancestress. After a moment, there came a reply from the back of the chamber, and the ancestress appeared, wearing a fine red robe.

"Ancestress, what a fine robe you have. Might I be so bold as to inquire why you have forgone your customary white?"

"If you must know, impertinent child who enters without knocking, I was repainting my manse, and did not wish to dirty my white robe."

Fortuitous Scarlet Cloak looked about her, and indeed the manse had been repainted in red. The paint was so fresh that it still glittered with moisture.

"Indeed ancestress, it is a most brilliant color." Casting about, she smelt that not all was right in the manse, for its color had never been changed before. Glacing again at her ancestress, she noted that the old woman's teeth glinted large and silver in the light. "Ancestress, I had never before noted what magnificiently large teeth you have…"

"The better to eat you with my dear!" The Ancestress flowed into the Wolf-Beast from before, leaping at Fortuitous Scarlet Cloak to devour her flesh as well, but she had anticipated the strike and countered by throwing the moon cake into the monster's eyes. Flipping backwards, she danced onto a branch and the creature followed, great claws rending the very air itself with inhuman ferocity. Fortuitous Scarlet Cloak deftly avoided each swing though they struck with the speed and fury of a thunderclap, but in her heart she knew that soon her skill would fail, and that a single blow would enough to knock the life from her breast.

Her name, however had not been given to her without reason, for just at the moment she knew her resolve would ultimately fail her, there came down the road an itinerant monk, well trained in the Immaculate Arts of the Wood Dragon. Spotting the horror swatting at the young child, he invoked the precision and resilience of Sextes Jyles, launching an attack at the beast's very soul, flowing past its invincible body and striking it dead in a single blow.

In this way did Fortuitous Scarlet Cloak learn to be careful and not speak freely to those who might be Anathema.

Why Chicken is Healthy for You

Long, long ago, when the world was young, many creatures were very different. One of these was the chicken. All chickens used to be very fat and round. They would sluggishly hop around eating all the food they could find. Being this fat was a true disadvantage, as people prized the fat because it would fuel their oil lamps for a long time. Since the chickens were so fat and slow-moving, they almost always were caught. That is, until one day things changed.

Chick’aku, the ancestor of all modern chickens, was peacefully eating an ear of corn on a sunny mountainside. Suddenly, a terrible cry reached her ears. It was a group of people out to catch chickens! Chick’aku ran, or rather hopped, for her life. The people were in close pursuit as she bounced up the grassy slope. She headed for a large boulder lying nearby. Once on the other side, she paused to think. Where could she go? She must hide! The hollow tree a few feet to left seemed perfect.

The humans went rushing right past Chick’aku’s hiding place, but soon noticed that their prey had evaded them. They began to search the area. Chick’aku just hoped they would go away. Her recent exertion and the hot sun were causing her to get exceedingly hot. In fact, she thought she could feel the fat sloshing around inside her because it had melted.

Right when the hunters were leaving, the youngest, a boy of nine, spotted Chick’aku. She jumped out of the tree and right into a briar patch. The sharp thorns bit into her skin, but she crawled out and kept on fleeing. Then a strange thing happened. With every hop she took, molten fat ran out of the holes in her. In mere seconds she was a nice, lean chicken. The people stopped chasing her, as her valuable fat was gone. Now she could walk easily and people would no longer try to capture her. Chick’aku was overjoyed!

As you may have guessed, all of the fat chickens were eventually hunted down by people. Only Chick’aku’s children, who were also nice and lean, were left alone. To this day chickens have remained like that. That’s why eating chicken is healthier than eating red meat.

Note: This is a little tidbit I wrote way back in 8th grade and just now dug up.