Just a little something I wrote
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Long ago, or so I've been told, there was a very simple boy named John. John and his mother were very poor, and one hard winter, they had no food in the house. So, John's mother gave him a basket and sent him out into the woods to collect strawberries, warning him sternly not to come back until the basket was full. John, being an obedient little boy, went out as he was told.
The woods were dark and very, very cold, and try as he might, John couldn't find any strawberries. But, he didn't dare go back without a basket full of them, so he pressed further into the woods. On and on he went, until finally he came across a tall, well-dressed man with an owl for a head.
“Hello, hello, little boy!” said the stranger. “Who are you, and what brings you out this far from your home?”
John told him the whole story, as best as he was able.
The stranger blinked twice. “Well then, well then! You'll find nothing out here, but come with me to my village. We will give you all the food you care to eat, and a warm place to sleep, and you may stay as long as it pleases you.”
That sounded very good to John.
“However, however,” the stranger cautioned, “there is one important thing of which you must beware! Far past the edge of my village is a high wall made all of black stones. You must not climb up it, you must never look over its top, and you must never, ever go to its other side!”
Of course, John had no interest in climbing walls, so that was very agreeable to him. He followed the stranger deeper into the woods, past the horizon and past the sunrise, until at last they came to a pleasant-looking little town. Pretty little houses lined the roads, each with a cheery garden in front. The people of the village, each as strange-looking as the man with the owl for a head, all came out of the houses and crowded around the two of them.
The man with an owl for a head introduced John to the villagers. “This little boy has come to live with us.”
The crowd welcomed John with shouts of “Huzzah!”, and they brought him into one of the houses. They gave him a very good dinner, and a bed near a warm fire, and John was very content.
Days passed, and the villagers continued to treat John very kindly and greet him by name where-ever he went.
Months passed, and John made friends with the children of the village and played lovely games with them.
Years passed, and all the villagers spoke well of him, and shopkeepers offered him sweets.
Centuries passed, and John was invited to their parties and fetes and had delightful fun.
The last I heard, he is still there.
END
