Christopher Head
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Stories (6)
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Wrongful Conviction
Hansel & Gretel the Gluttons This all started when those rotten kids kept eating my house. I am a lonely widow and can't afford to build a house out of anything more than treats. Everytime I add something to the house the little brats come by and eat it. No respect for their elders and no regard for anyone or anything other than their disgusting little sweet tooths.
By Christopher Head4 years ago in Fiction
To Gift a Friend
Now listen... As I recount to you The perilous journey which brought these mysterious gifts into existence. I was in hills of feet searching lake and riverbeds for a foe worthy of my fearsome angler skills. When suddenly a tiny light fairy blinked and sounded her bell in my ear. She had an urgent message for me. A celebration of life on the morrow. A celebration of life for the kindest of friends. I heeded this Fairies message and changed my heading to that of the Park of Rivers. The dragon named Ford carried me through the hills winding in and out alongside the river of Kings. As we approached the Park of Rivers the beast settled and lay quietly beneath the smallest bit of shade and wasted not her opportunity to rest. I began my trek on foot and the ground seemed afire neath my sandled feet. I had little inclination of where to start. What gift is worthy of this friend?? Several days later I realized that I was now trapped in the Park of Rivers lest I make a decision quickly. The makings of my guts began to rumble for I had not acquired nourishmemt for quite some time. A smile crept upon my face as I immediately knew where I wanted to rest and regain my strength. The bbq of dickeys! I would recieve my traditional yellow goblet to remember such a fine meal. The bbq of dickeys was buried in the midst of Sierra Vista marketplace. A place with many fine shops and entertainment. I quickly mounted the saddle of my white dragon Ford and signaled her to advance quickly lest we perish from hunger.
By Christopher Head4 years ago in Fiction
Caretakers Valley
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Countless moons ago, we lay under the stars recounting heroic stories to the heavens befriending the night.Flashes of that murderous morn, are etched into our memories, as we ran for our lives blinded by the cloud of ash and chaos. The only thing to break through the veil was the smell of searing human flesh.
By Christopher Head4 years ago in Fiction
