Post by Birdy on Oct 31, 2013 22:44:26 GMT -5
As you meander along, demanding candy of those you meet lest you play a prank on them, you finally find yourself at the roots of an old oak tree.
Ah, yes; you remember now. This is Birdy’s haunt.
A friendly campfire crackles nearby, near the base of the tree. (But not too near – it would be a tragedy to have it catch on fire, after all.)
But there is one other thing that strikes you as odd. Namely, there is no platform, waiting to raise you up into the air and to Birdy’s treetop home.
You frown. Has she decided not to accept trick-or-treaters this year? But if so, why are all the lights on in her home? And why would she leave a campfire unattended at the roots of her tree? That doesn’t seem very mature or responsible.
As you mull over this, you see something move near the trunk of the tree. Stiffening, you prepare to whack this creepy stalker repeatedly with your pumpkin-bucket of candy. (Alas, yes; some candy would sacrifice itself to protect you, but you know you would remember those pieces always as heroes.)
Just as you are about to start swinging, however, a cloaked figure steps into the light, and lays back their hood.
“Hey,” the figure says. You relax. It’s only Birdy. But why is she down here, instead of up there, with cookies and cider and all the other lovely thingy things she had last year?
“I guess you’re wondering why I’m down here instead of up there with cookies and cider and all the other lovely things I had last year,” she says.
You simply nod, ignoring the creepy near mind-reading that just happened.
“Well, I was going to be up there,” she said, “but SOMEone locked me out.” She snorts in disgust. “Seriously, you’d think he’d’ve learned by now that the Frilly Pink Ballerina Costume with Cardboard Wings is a joke. And seriously, a horse costume? As if I’d really want to be cooped up in that thing with…” she trails off and shakes her head. “Got off on a tangent there, sorry. Anyway, despite the lack of cookies and other goodies, I did manage to get some candy!” she holds up a medium-sized sack. “And I got a pot and water and Styrofoam cups, so I can at least offer you some campfire-made hot chocolate. It’s kinda chilly tonight,” she adds, just as a breeze blows past. She pulls her cloak closer around herself and shivers slightly.
“Anyway,” she says, “I know I don’t have much this year, but you’re welcome to what I do have.”
So, what’ll it be? Candy? Or some hot chocolate? Both?
Ah, yes; you remember now. This is Birdy’s haunt.
A friendly campfire crackles nearby, near the base of the tree. (But not too near – it would be a tragedy to have it catch on fire, after all.)
But there is one other thing that strikes you as odd. Namely, there is no platform, waiting to raise you up into the air and to Birdy’s treetop home.
You frown. Has she decided not to accept trick-or-treaters this year? But if so, why are all the lights on in her home? And why would she leave a campfire unattended at the roots of her tree? That doesn’t seem very mature or responsible.
As you mull over this, you see something move near the trunk of the tree. Stiffening, you prepare to whack this creepy stalker repeatedly with your pumpkin-bucket of candy. (Alas, yes; some candy would sacrifice itself to protect you, but you know you would remember those pieces always as heroes.)
Just as you are about to start swinging, however, a cloaked figure steps into the light, and lays back their hood.
“Hey,” the figure says. You relax. It’s only Birdy. But why is she down here, instead of up there, with cookies and cider and all the other lovely thingy things she had last year?
“I guess you’re wondering why I’m down here instead of up there with cookies and cider and all the other lovely things I had last year,” she says.
You simply nod, ignoring the creepy near mind-reading that just happened.
“Well, I was going to be up there,” she said, “but SOMEone locked me out.” She snorts in disgust. “Seriously, you’d think he’d’ve learned by now that the Frilly Pink Ballerina Costume with Cardboard Wings is a joke. And seriously, a horse costume? As if I’d really want to be cooped up in that thing with…” she trails off and shakes her head. “Got off on a tangent there, sorry. Anyway, despite the lack of cookies and other goodies, I did manage to get some candy!” she holds up a medium-sized sack. “And I got a pot and water and Styrofoam cups, so I can at least offer you some campfire-made hot chocolate. It’s kinda chilly tonight,” she adds, just as a breeze blows past. She pulls her cloak closer around herself and shivers slightly.
“Anyway,” she says, “I know I don’t have much this year, but you’re welcome to what I do have.”
So, what’ll it be? Candy? Or some hot chocolate? Both?
