Once upon a time there lived a wise old master of stories in a modest home which clung precariously to a hillside overlooking the tidy and easily forgotten village of Pleasant Grove.
Every Friday evening this wise old story teller found himself tending forty five children in a modest red brick schoolhouse which sat at the center of the village near the library and pub (using the word's most generous definition). The children came from many of the county's villages to hear stories told by his apprentices and his apprentices, apprentices.
The Master lived a good life and sought never to be a bother to anyone. His tastes were simple. In exchange for his tales, he asked for one warm meal a day and a room with a view. If there was more, he considered himself quite lucky indeed.
One week in the middle of December, the Master's path crossed the path of the vengeful and jealous Fortuna, Goddess of Fortunes. These rare encounters were usually tempestuous at best and disastrous at worst. This December crossing was the offspring of both.
Please sit and rest while I tell this tale of a Master of Story and the Goddess of Fortune. It is the making of legend.......
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