Pond, Banks, Vegetation, Tree, Reflection, Landscape

Image by Mabel Amber from Pixabay

Gibberish had been a happy little Water Sprite.  She was said to have had the sweetest disposition, and the most beautiful smile in all Fairydom.  Yes she was happy indeed. Happy until that travelling peddler came along that is.

That man (and Gibberish still shutters at the thought of him), that man had the nerve – no – the audacity to ride his pack mule through (not around mind you) Gibberish’s little pond.  He showed no consideration for the little newts and salamanders that lived there, nor for the happy little Water Sprite herself.

In the peddler’s blatant disregard for the pond folk, he allowed his beast to trod on the unsuspecting Gibberish.  This callous act knocked out the Fairy’s front teeth, not only forever ruining her famed smile, but leaving her with a lisp.  And as if that was not bad enough, the other Fairy-folk began to tease poor Gibberish for the speech impediment that was the result of the indecent.

Gibberish has become a very unpleasant little Fairy.  So unpleasant in fact – that she has now enchanted her pond – so that any human who drinks from her waters will begin to speak in an unintelligible way.   That is why confused speech is called Gibberish to this very day.




had the Tale Weaver – #288 – Fairy Tale – The Unpleasant Fairy

The Bargain



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Jack’s widowed mother had been sent him into the town to sell the family cow.  It was hoped that the money raised by the sale of the beloved creature would be enough to tide the family over, through the long winter.

As Jack entered the market, a fruit vendor began calling out.

“Roll up.  Roll up.  We is comin’ to the end of the day, and this fruit ain’t goin’ to be eat’n itself.  Nanners, Nanners, two bunches for a pound.”

The appeal of the idea of fresh fruit became too much for the half starved boy, so he headed directly to the vendor’s stall.

“I don’t have any cash for the bananas, but I have a cow,” he announced.

The shrewd merchant looked the beast over and said, “I’ll give ya eight bunches for er.”

Jack shook the man’s hand, and handed him the lead.

The wily vendor, then took sixteen bananas and separated them into pairs.

“Eight bunches,” he announced, wrapping them in old newspaper.

The dejected lad trudged home with his purchase and laid them on the kitchen table.

“Bananas!” his mother roared.  “I was expecting beans!”


(190 words)





Once Upon A Time In The Greenwood


“It has been really quiet in the wood of late,” Thorafax the Gnome commented to Adriel the Sprite.

“I saw a dog-walker yesterday,” the Sprite replied.  “It was Brooster, so it had to have been Henry behind the mask with him.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” Thorafax said.

“What are you two jawing about,” a sullen looking Gnome interrupted.

“Oh,  Hi Androw.  Just discussing how quiet the wood is,” Thorafax replied.

“Does my heart good, it does,” Androw said.  “Even the blasted noise from the roadway has largely gone.  Good riddance, I say.”

Androw had never quite gotten over having the hollow log which surrounded his home being used a seat for some all-night teenage partiers a few years before.  If their racket wasn’t bad enough, the rubbish – bottles and such – that they stuffed into the log had him trapped for hours.  He had eventually dug himself out, but never much cared for Human-folk ever since.

“Well, I kind of miss them,” Adriel said.”

“You Sprites don’t know a thing,” the grump of a Gnome said.  “Your homes are on boughs where they can’t upset them.  No, what would you do if they come by and picked ALL the flowers?  And they will someday, mind.”

“I’d think you were scaremongering again,” The Sprite replied. “Humans aren’t that bad.”

“You daisy-hearts are all alike.  I think we should build a wall or something while they are away.  That would keep the wood safe!” Androw said firmly, then turned and stomped off to his log.


Tale Weaver – #271 – Fairy Tale – What The Fairies Think: Write a story/fairytale in which you explore how they are reacting/coping with their human ‘friends’ being home all the time.



Cubes, Three, Objects, Red, Orange, Green, Shapes


Once upon a time there were three squares: Pappa Square, Momma Square, and Baby Square.  As they settled down for breakfast they found that their porridge was too hot.  So, they decided to go for a tumble through the wood, after all squares don’t roll too well.

While they were away, a little circle named RollyLocks came rolling through the forest, and as the squares’ house was in her path, she rolled right through it.

She rolled over Pappa’s chair.  She rolled over Momma’s chair.  She even rolled over Baby’s little chair, breaking it to bits.

Not being one for porridge, she then rolled right through their breakfast spilling it all, and not eating a drop.

She then rolled into the bedroom.  She rolled over Pappa’s bed.  She rolled over Momma’s bed.  She at last rolled onto Baby’s bed, but had no energy to roll any further.

After a while, the squares returned home to find an awful mess.

“Someone has rolled over my chair,” said Poppa.

“And someone has rolled over mine as well,” observed Momma.

“Well, someone has rolled over my little chair,” said Baby, “and the have rolled it into tiny bits.”

“Look they have rolled through my porridge,” said Poppa.

“They have rolled through mine as well,” said Momma.

They rolled through mine too,” said Baby, “and spilled it everywhere.”

The squares followed the porridge tracks into the bedroom.

“Someone has rolled right over my bed,” observed Poppa.

“Mine has been rolled over as well,” said Momma.

“Mine has been rolled onto as well,” said Baby, “and they’re still there.”

The startled squares tried to rouse RollyLocks, but she could not be shifted, having run out of energy and coming to a state of inertial rest.  Which just goes to show that you should never pass up a square meal.





The Mound

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Sally’s parents had told her that the little mound at the bottom of the garden had been an old shed which had collapsed through time and neglect.  Yet, if that were the case, why had it sprouted flowers and grass without a single bit of human effort, or the addition of top soil?  Yes, Mum had had the birdbath put on top of it, but only after the flowers has appeared.  Before that, she had asked Uncle Steve to cart away the rubble so she could put a gazebo there.  But those flowers – there was just something about them that made the place seem – well – special.

It was on a late July afternoon that it happened.  Sally had been sitting at the picnic table in the centre of the garden when she spied some movement on the mound out of the corner of her eye.  She took a quick glance, expecting to see a robin or sparrow at the bath, but there was only a butterfly flitting near the little border of the mound.  Dismissing it she went back to her sudoku puzzle book.  But then there was something in her peripheral vision again.  This time she kept her puzzle book in front of her and just barely tilted her head to get a better view.  There standing at the rim of the birdbath was a little man, no more than three inches tall, lowering a tiny bucket into the bath.  When it was filled he slowly lowered it to two little women waiting at the base of the bath.

Sally let out an excited squeal and as quickly as they had seemed to have appeared – they were gone.



Tale Weaver #248 – At the Bottom of the Garden – 7th November

The Rescue

Montana, Landscape, Scenic, Mountains


Charman Prinz had a lot to live up to.  It all grew out of a boast when he was fifteen, that the fairy tale writers had gotten it wrong, and that he was the descendant of the true hero of so many stories, and bore the proud name.

It was because of this that he knew he could not afford to dither.  He had a reputation to uphold, yet his mother’s incessant mithering was making him do just that.  You see, word had arrived that a local farm girl, hardly a princess, had been locked in a tower by her uncle, in the hope of forcing his older brother into surrendering his claim on the family inheritance.  While the sum was not massive, the promise of a reward for rescuing the girl seemed a great prospect for the penniless Charman.

His mother’s litany of self-pitying complaints now complete, Charman headed into the woods to retrieve the well worn sword he had traded for at the fair the year before.  It was securely hidden in the withered oak on the far side of the wood.  He was quite certain he remembered its position, but when he arrived he was forced to scour the area, as their seems to have been a blight in the forest and there was now over fifty withered oaks.

He now knew his chances of being the hero, and the recipient of the reward was diminishing.  Surely some other brave lad would beat him to the rescue.

It was late afternoon when he finally found his sword and equipment bag.  It was in good condition, and he ran as fast as could to the evil uncle’s farmstead.  He stopped on a low hill which overlooked the property and scoped out the situation.  He discovered that he had been right about being beaten to the farm.  He could clearly make out the figure of Thomas Dashing attempting to pry open the lock on the converted grain silo which was serving as the maiden’s prison.

Charman had to think quickly.  He then saw his chance.  There was a hedgerow nearby which was covered with flowers.  Charman slowly crept to the far side of the silo and cowered in the shadows.   Then, putting on his most feminine falsetto voice called out, “Don’t you dare come in here without a bouquet.”

Thomas stopped messing with the lock and looked around confused.

Charman again called out, “Don’t come into this tower unless you bring me flowers.”

Thomas noticing the hedge sprinted off to collect a bundle of bloom.

As he did, Charman rose and drawing a rope from his equipment bag, heaved it onto a jutting drain and slithered up the cable and scrambled into the high window.

“Come with me,” he said to the frightened girl.  “I have come to rescue you.”

“What about my flower?” she said coyly.

At that Charman pulled a silk bouquet from his equipment bag.  Well a true hero always needs to be prepared.




Bonus Wordle “Rhymes”

Mither (make a fuss, moan)

An Ugly Accident

Smoke And Mirrors, Magic, Explosion, Mirror

Image by CeeMon from Pixabay

Snow White rapidly rapped upon her friend the Huntsman’s door.

Bleary eyed, having been woken from sleep, he opened the door and the girl rushed past him.

“Close the door quickly,” she said.

“What’s the matter, Snow?” the man asked compassionately.

“Do you know how my stepmother keeps telling me off for letting small birds and animals in the palace to sing to?” Snow began.

“Yes, but why are you here?” the Huntsman asked.

“I was in Stepmother’s dressing room holding one of her beautiful gowns in front of me to see how it might look in the mirror, when I noticed some beautiful bluebirds outside of the window.  I just had to let them in to see the dress,” snow explained.

“Okay, you broke the ‘no animals’ rule.  You’ve done that before.  So what’s the problem?”  he asked.

“Well the birds came in, and I held the dress up, and danced about so that it would sway with me.  It was so pretty that I began to sing and spin the faster.  Then, I accidentally knocked the mirror off the wall and it shattered,” the princess confessed.

“I see the problem,” the man said a bit concerned.

“That’s not all,” Snow said.  “Just as I was trying to clean it up, she came into the room.”

She must be mad,” the Huntsman reflected.

“Mad? She was so furious that she stopped even being beautiful,” Snow explained.  “It’s like an ugly spell was cast on her – she was so angry.  That’s why I ran here to hide.”

A spell had indeed been involved.  It was not an ‘ugly spell’ for the Queen had always been that, both physically and in her soul.  But with her magic mirror broken, the enchantment behind her beauty had destroyed.



Christine’s Daily Writing Prompt: she must be mad



The Locksmith’s Daughter

Image by Wokandapix from Pixabay


The young king as inquisitive.  His questions often stumped the wisest sages of the land.

Whilst eating his breakfast one morning, the king began to stare at the boiled egg before him.

“How might one reveal the golden centre of an egg without damaging it shell in any way?” he questioned aloud.

His chief adviser leaned to him and whispered, “It cannot be done, Your Majesty.”

“That then is the challenge!” the monarch proclaimed.

Wizards and alchemists gathered before the king, and each in turn failed to impress him.

There seemed that there was no one in the kingdom that could meet the king’s challenge.

Then one of the king’s guards said that he had heard a locksmith in the tavern claim that their was no enclosure he could not enter or lock he could not open.

The king ordered that the man be brought to him immediately.

The terrified locksmith was led before his monarch, and the task before him was explained.

The man, his reputation in the balance, held up an egg.  He examined it from every angle, and under different lights.

He was just about to admit defeat when his daughter, a lass of about nine, pushed through the crowd.

“Wait, Father,” she called.

She mounted the platform, and gave a curtsy to the king.  She then took the egg from her father and looked at it closely.   “I will return quickly,” she said.

On her return she took two jars of  from her basket.  She placed the egg in the first, and then poured water into the other.  She then took pieces of fruit from her basket and squeezed various juices from them into the watered jar to create a juicy liquid.  She next, took the juiceless peel from yet another piece of fruit and placed it into the mixture.  This was poured over the egg.  She then watched the big hand on the palace clock, and after five minutes she reached in and withdrew the egg which had assumed the colour of the richest yolk.

“Here is you golden egg, Father,” she said handing it to the locksmith.

The man bowed trembling before the monarch and held the egg before him.

The young king at first only stared at the object.  Then unexpectedly he began to laugh and clap his hands.  “Well done, young lady, well done!” he proclaimed.


The Haunted Wordsmith Prompt – May 9

Prompt A (character challenge): locksmith

Prompt B (opposites attract): juicy AND juiceless OR sapless

Prompt C (photo): above



Once Upon A Time . . .

Wishing Well clip art

Once upon a time . . . that’s how they start them, isn’t it?  Well, actually it was last Tuesday, and it was a rather ordinary day.  If ordinary includes it raining fish, and water flowing up hill, that is.

How did this all come about you might ask?  Well it was all because of a well; a wishing well to be precise.  Little Tommy Tucker was bored and lonely, and having nothing particular to do, he started to explore under the terraces at the sports ground to see what he might see.

His efforts where fruitful on two accounts.  Firstly, they gave him something to do, and secondly he found a tuppence.  A world of options seemed to open to him all at once.  With this vast treasure he could of course buy some sweets, but this would not allay his boredom for long, nor would it necessarily secure him any company.

Then he saw it, the wishing well at the edge of the orchard.  Surely with the princely sum of two pennies he could secure some companionship.  As he approached the ringed brickwork he noticed a sleeping Tabby curled in its shadow.  He stroked the cat behind the ears, and tossed his coin into the well.

“Please give me someone to spend the day with,” he entreated as the copper piece fell into the waters below.

Immediately, the cat said aloud, “That is quite pleasant, a little to the right please.”

Of course Tommy was very much taken aback by the speaking cat, and ran home in a panic and hid himself under his covers.

The cat on the other hand went immediately to where he knew a dropped penny was and brought it in his mouth to the well.

“I want all the fish I can eat, and I don’t ever want to get wet again,” the feline announced as the coin fell into the well’s depths.

Well you know the rest of the story.


(328 words)



Tale Weaver/Fairy Tale – January 24th – Once Upon a Time…