Artemis Tuuri
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As the path winds its way up to the house, an owl shuffles past trailing a feather or two. It lives in the hollow of the old tree stump where the Blackmoore children played ring-a-rosy. It only delivers letters when it pleases, or if you have an owl treat to spare. A little fountain display trickle merrily and winds its way into little pebble pools around the side of the house. You could fish there, if you pleased. Drop a penny or two into the water and watch the fish poke at it every so often. Make a wish as you do.
The house itself stands apart from the others. The village is crowded with little houses, but not this one. It is built with white logs, stacked two stories high. The second story has been added on since, but you cannot tell. In fact, not long ago it looked like every other house. So the work of magic is evident for those who have the eye to see it, but not the jolly muggles going about their business with a tip of their hats. For that is the way Langton runs, despite the modern world. It is the haven for those wishing to imagine the past as it was.
The windows are wide and flanked by little checkered curtains that are pleasing to the eye. Roses have also made their way up the front of the house, almost to the roof. There is nothing keeping them there of course, save magic. The stairs creek when one steps upon them, so there is no need for a doorbell. If you do wish to use a doorbell however, you need only think it and there it shall be. Press it. It will trill a little tune. But don't wake the children! Teenage girls need their beauty sleep. Knock also if it pleases you. If you are not welcome however, beware.
<FONT font="Monaco">Artemis flicked vaguely through the family photo albums. Now there were two - Father's family and Mother's family. She sighed as she remembered the rift between them both now; not only the rift between Beatrice and Gregory...also between Mother and herself. Artemis, like Deirdre, was much aggrieved at the split some years back. Since then, the situation was stony between both parents and desperately sad between the siblings.
She sighed once again but paused as she came upon on odd photo. It was quite old - a black and white frame, and moving jerkily as though it had been taken a long time ago. Artemis blinked and laughed. Why look... a little goblin woman, all dressed neatly in a green cardigan and smart black trousers. She wondered who it was. The woman was standing next to great-great-uncle Roberts. Their arms were around each other, and they smiled and waved at Artemis from beneath the plastic. Giggling, she smiled back.
Sometime later, Artemis dragged the hug album up to the kitchen table.
"Mother?" inquired Artemis. "Who is this?". Beatrice frowned at the photo and scratched her chin. "I think it is great-great-uncle Roberts." she replied.
"No no, this one." pointed Art.
"Oh! That's great-great-aunt Lediri. Isn't she sweet?" said her mother.
"Our aunt! A goblin?" exclaimed Artemis, flabbergasted.
"Oh yes. Didn't you know? We always knew you were a bit of a throw-back, being package-sized."
That was Beatrice's pet adjective for Art. She was also "My little package".
Artemis grinned and hauled the photo album away again. She scampered off to the lounge, eyes alight with interest. Simon tripped later on over the piles of slippery photographs as Artemis rummaged around, intent of knowing more about her 'new' relative.
Enter
A sweet house stand silent in the bustling street. The grass grows freely in the front yard, with daisies and buttercups and all a manner of wildflowers right to the fence. The fence itself is short and white, each picket slightly taller or shorter than the next. The path to the house is long and cobbled just the like the street, only divided by a little white iron gate. The gate is shadowed in the cool evening with the matching iron archway. You cannot see it is iron, of course. The climbing yellow roses droop their fronds from above and spread some way over the fence line. The smell is pleasant.As the path winds its way up to the house, an owl shuffles past trailing a feather or two. It lives in the hollow of the old tree stump where the Blackmoore children played ring-a-rosy. It only delivers letters when it pleases, or if you have an owl treat to spare. A little fountain display trickle merrily and winds its way into little pebble pools around the side of the house. You could fish there, if you pleased. Drop a penny or two into the water and watch the fish poke at it every so often. Make a wish as you do.
The house itself stands apart from the others. The village is crowded with little houses, but not this one. It is built with white logs, stacked two stories high. The second story has been added on since, but you cannot tell. In fact, not long ago it looked like every other house. So the work of magic is evident for those who have the eye to see it, but not the jolly muggles going about their business with a tip of their hats. For that is the way Langton runs, despite the modern world. It is the haven for those wishing to imagine the past as it was.
The windows are wide and flanked by little checkered curtains that are pleasing to the eye. Roses have also made their way up the front of the house, almost to the roof. There is nothing keeping them there of course, save magic. The stairs creek when one steps upon them, so there is no need for a doorbell. If you do wish to use a doorbell however, you need only think it and there it shall be. Press it. It will trill a little tune. But don't wake the children! Teenage girls need their beauty sleep. Knock also if it pleases you. If you are not welcome however, beware.
<FONT font="Monaco">Artemis flicked vaguely through the family photo albums. Now there were two - Father's family and Mother's family. She sighed as she remembered the rift between them both now; not only the rift between Beatrice and Gregory...also between Mother and herself. Artemis, like Deirdre, was much aggrieved at the split some years back. Since then, the situation was stony between both parents and desperately sad between the siblings.
She sighed once again but paused as she came upon on odd photo. It was quite old - a black and white frame, and moving jerkily as though it had been taken a long time ago. Artemis blinked and laughed. Why look... a little goblin woman, all dressed neatly in a green cardigan and smart black trousers. She wondered who it was. The woman was standing next to great-great-uncle Roberts. Their arms were around each other, and they smiled and waved at Artemis from beneath the plastic. Giggling, she smiled back.
Sometime later, Artemis dragged the hug album up to the kitchen table.
"Mother?" inquired Artemis. "Who is this?". Beatrice frowned at the photo and scratched her chin. "I think it is great-great-uncle Roberts." she replied.
"No no, this one." pointed Art.
"Oh! That's great-great-aunt Lediri. Isn't she sweet?" said her mother.
"Our aunt! A goblin?" exclaimed Artemis, flabbergasted.
"Oh yes. Didn't you know? We always knew you were a bit of a throw-back, being package-sized."
That was Beatrice's pet adjective for Art. She was also "My little package".
Artemis grinned and hauled the photo album away again. She scampered off to the lounge, eyes alight with interest. Simon tripped later on over the piles of slippery photographs as Artemis rummaged around, intent of knowing more about her 'new' relative.