Down the Rabbit Hole
I remember the night of my twenty-first birthday. My friends and I decided to go mini golfing that day. It was an old golf shack right off the highway, one that I remembered going to when I was ten or twelve. The actual mini golf course was rather small, and quite frankly one that looked run down on its slowest days. But it had its charm, of course, as it had a special wonderland theme that made you feel as though you lived through the stories of the dear Alice Liddell. I lived my youth going to the golf course almost every Sunday in the summertime, and every time I remember I would make my mom buy me a blue raspberry slushie afterward. After a few years, though, I stopped going entirely, enthralled in the other magical world of setting up for keeping a good high school record and preparing for college.
The Ballad of Vincent Campbell
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The old and decayed cabin at the edge of Junos’ Creek was an old wise tale for many, and a piece of history for others. The most common retelling of this tale takes place in the Northern Bay town of Boychester, just on the cusp of Vermont as trees surround the place year round: a perfect place of isolation and despair, one could imagine.
The Realm Finder
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. At least, in the way that I’ve seen it. To be frank, I’ve rarely visited the Valley myself when I first arrived in this world. I’ve heard stories ancient and new about the cavernous realm; Ones of daring knights traversing the depths to reclaim their honor, swashbuckling pirates and thieves set to claim treasures unknown, or just stubborn fools entering that canyon upon a bet with drunkards and friends alike. I’ve heard of it all just as I’ve heard little about those who survive the Valley of Ashes.