Capes and Quills- a collection of tales

  The Traveler found herself in a town infested with mice, lifting her cloak off the ground in order to avoid them biting on it or worse. Hood over her head, she searched for a story. Who could tell her something worth writing, worth protecting in this book? She suddenly heard a cry and turned. A woman was being attacked by mice, and nobody offered to help, so the Traveler stepped in, brushing them off her and the two going inside before the vermin could attack both of them. The woman sat down at a table and poured them both a drink, thanking the Traveler for helping and wondering if there was anything she could do in return. The Traveler considered, before nodding. Quietly, she bowed her head and asked for a tale, the woman instantly agreeing and preparing to tell the tale of ‘the ruler of mice’. ‘Long before I was born, there lived a civilization of mice under this town, all bearing different jobs and positions. Many of them were poorer mice, forced to scurry about the earth in s...

  The Traveler found herself in a new town, where, ironically, she wasn’t the only traveler. In fact, an entire circus had appeared, enticing visitors with its sickly sweet smell of candyfloss and the loud blaring music so typical of these attractions. Following a family inside, she found herself surrounded by strangers and curiosities alike. Which one to ask for a tale, though? She moved from stall to stall, from curiosity to curiosity. All fake, all attractions, all staged. Fortune tellers beckoned her over, but she hastily shook her head. Clowns tried to pull off her cape to reveal her face- she ran away. Behind one of the crates holding up a sign, she hid, pulling out the book to try and remember her purpose. Ninety nine tales more. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. But who could tell her a tale worth keeping? She suddenly spotted a young man, quite handsome, calling visitors to his attraction. According to the brightly painted sign, he told a story for a story. She raised ...

  Unmarried wretch. Witch. Wasted daughter. All names she’d been burdened with before. Before she took up her sword and quill, and became someone else. Sheath the aspirations of her family in favour of her task, the one which could save her life, and return her long lost freedom. Freedom to marry, to choose her own life, and to be free of this burden. For now, however, she was free of the names, the harassment. And she’d given herself a new name. Nomad, magician, child of literature. Or, as she called herself, the Traveler. Tale number one had been simple. A child, crying to their mother that they’d seen it, the beast of the forest. The mother, obviously, did not believe them, but the Traveler could. She’d approached the innocent one when the mother wasn’t looking, and asked them to recount the tale. ‘Many years ago, a prince lived inside a castle made of gold. Often, he would venture out in secret, to hear the wind’s music and play in the waterfalls. It was rumored that the forest...