a skein of knot

i told a story once, of my magic uncle, but in the telling of the fascine fable the grounds loosed and nimbusly-adrift we found our station. uncles like that should warn you that, in the telling of their tales, you may find yourself stitched in the clouds.

and not too many people find it so easily recieved, their being amidst the virga at sefen tousand feets.

apostrophe

the princess once asked the carapaced doter proof of his once claimed prizes and curse. so for 26 nights of the tree he sheltered by, built the antler-gires by claw and clamour.

the princess enabled, she hesitated to touch the present statements that once caused such dire outcomes. but her love for the crab gave wisdom and trust to her senses.

and the sincerity of her touch befuddled the stars' malicious alignments, forever gifting them with the grace of wish and dandle upon those below.