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Daily Archives: August 5, 2025

Dullingshire

05 Aug
Dullingshire

A Short Story: The Girl with the Purple Umbrella

There once was a girl named Lila who strolled through town with a purple umbrella—always open, even on the sunniest of days. She wore socks that didn’t match, spoke in rhymes when no one asked, and could often be found conversing with lamp posts or feeding imaginary pigeons.

People in the town of Dullingshire whispered.
“She’s strange,” said the baker.
“Weird,” nodded the barber.
“Completely off,” murmured the mayor.
“Possibly crazy,” concluded the postman.

One day, a curious boy named Felix asked her why she did the things she did. She twirled her umbrella, smiled, and said:
“I’m not strange, weird, off, nor crazy—
My reality is just different from yours, dear Daisy.”

“My name’s Felix,” he corrected.

“Exactly,” she winked.

She invited him to walk with her. Under her umbrella, the world looked different—full of colour, music, and upside-down rainbows. Trees whispered secrets, puddles shimmered like portals, and the clouds giggled above.

By the time they returned, Felix wasn’t sure whether he had visited another world or simply looked at his own for the first time. He tried explaining it to others, but they shook their heads and gave him cautious glances. He didn’t care.

From that day on, Felix carried a green balloon wherever he went and sometimes whistled at flowers to see if they’d sing back.

And when people whispered about him, Lila simply smiled and said,
“Welcome to my reality.”

And that’s how the world became a little less dull, and Dullingshire never quite lived up to its name again.

dullingshire

 
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Posted by on August 5, 2025 in a thought, fantasy, fantasy story

 

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The Pickled Newt Incident

05 Aug
The Pickled Newt Incident

“The Pickled Newt Incident”

(As told in hushed tones by woodland creatures and highly suspicious teapots.)

In a village called Splotz, near the Crackling Cliffs’ root,
Lived an elf known as Fle—
And a jar marked “Newt.”

It sat on a shelf marked “Do Not Unseal!”
Right under the sign that read “Definitely Real.”
It bubbled, it gurgled, it muttered in rhyme,
And occasionally leaked a peculiar green slime.

“Now don’t touch the jar,” said old Fle with a wink.
“It once tried to marry a badger, I think.”
But Alice, quite curious (and rightly so),
Said, “Why keep a pickled newt sealed long ago?”

Fle sighed, then he paced, then he sat on a drum.
(He sits anywhere when his knees go numb.)
And thus he began, with a wiggle and groan,
To tell of the night he’d once meddled… alone.

“I was younger then—only two hundred and ten,
With a broom, a balloon, and a borrowed goose pen.
I’d just brewed a soup made of socks and some glue,
When a newt in a cravat said, ‘Good evening to you.’

He asked for a snack, so I offered some cheese—
But he sneezed on my cat and dissolved half the trees.
Then he danced on my roof, ate my weather forecast,
And declared he would marry my gramophone… fast.

So I pickled him, neatly, in vinegar brine,
With mustard, three cloves, and a touch of moonshine.
For ninety-nine years he’s been floating in stew,
Occasionally shouting, ‘I do, I do, I doooo!’

And that, dear Alice, is why—if you please—
One must never serve cheese to amphibians with knees.”

Alice blinked twice, then looked toward the shelf.
And slowly edged farther away from the elf.
“Is he dangerous?” she whispered, aghast.

Fle shrugged.
“Only if he gets out of the jar made of glass.”

Just then, the jar rattled, and a soft burp was heard—
Followed closely by a very rude word.
Fle sprang to his feet (as far as he could),
And stuffed the jar under a cloak made of wood.

“No more questions,” he said, “about pickling fate.
Let’s talk about teapots. Or how I once flew a plate.”

The Pickled Newt Incident

 
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Posted by on August 5, 2025 in Alice, Alice in Wonderland, fle

 

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Alice and Fle went fishing one day…

05 Aug
Alice and Fle went fishing one day…

“Fle and the Fishing Fiasco”

On a mossy green bank where the daffodils grow,
Sat Alice and Fle with their toes all aglow.
Their lines dipped down in a wiggly stream,
In pursuit of a trout or a daydreamy dream.

Old Fle had a beard that was longer than sense,
He used it to dry off the fish from the fence.
(Yes, there was a fence, in the river somehow—
A trout swam through and said, “Do mind the cow.”)

“Now patience,” said Fle, “is the fisher’s true friend—”
Then his hook snatched his hat and flung it round the bend.
Alice just giggled and pointed with glee,
As a soggy old boot clung fast to poor Fle.

“Have you caught anything?” Alice asked with delight.
“Just a cold,” muttered Fle, “and a ticklish bite.”
He reeled in a sock, then a spoon, then a snail,
Then a rather surprised and still-reading quail.

“Perhaps,” said young Alice, “we should try further down?”
But Fle shook his head and adjusted his frown.
“I once caught a mermaid right here in this brook—
Though she tricked me and swapped all my coins for a book.”

Then something enormous gave both lines a tug!
A fish? A frog? A submerged garden rug?
The rods flew high in a loop-de-loop arc—
And landed them both in the mud with a SPARK!

Covered in slime and some algae and twigs,
Alice declared, “That’s enough chasing pigs!”
But Fle just grinned, with a glint in his eye,
“Fishing,” he said, “isn’t really to try.”

“It’s for thinking, and sitting, and listening to bees,
And falling in rivers and scraping your knees.
And if you’re quite lucky, you might catch a trout—
But mostly you’re lucky just getting back out!”

alice and fle went fishing one day

 
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Posted by on August 5, 2025 in A new Alice in Wonderland story, Alice in Wonderland, alice in wonderland adventure, elf

 

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Alice in Ballykillduff

05 Aug

You don’t have to be mad to visit here, but it helps

you don't have to be mad to visit here, but it helps

You don’t have to be mad to visit here, but it helps

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Alice in Ballykillduff

Alice fell through a hole in a very odd hedge,
Tumbled past turnips, a cow, and a ledge,
She landed with grace (well, almost—a thud)
In Ballykillduff, face-first in the mud.

She stood and she blinked at the curious crowd—
A goat played the trumpet unusually loud.
A pig sold balloons shaped like clouds and like cheese,
And someone was painting a portrait of peas.

“Where am I?” asked Alice. A sheep in a hat
Replied, “In the village of Ballykillduff! That’s that!”
“We’re preparing,” it said, “for the Sheep Racing Fair,
Where ewes take to flight through the midsummer air!”

She wandered through stalls where the jelly was wobbly,
The fudge slightly rude, and the sandwiches snobbly.
A tractor called Muriel whistled and said,
“Hop on for a tour! Don’t step on my tread.”

She met Grandmother McSnoop who could juggle live frogs,
And a choir of hens that sang sea shanty songs.
Two monks brewed a soda that made her see stars,
And a badger confessed he’d once stolen some jars.

At noon came the races—explosions of wool!
Jetpacks on sheep made the sky rather full.
They looped and they zoomed in a blizzard of fluff,
As Alice cried out, “This is quite mad enough!”

But just as she thought things could not get more strange,
The moon sprouted legs and danced down the lane.
The mayor declared, “That’s our satellite samba!”
And offered her tea served in hats made of llama.

At sunset, the hills all began to recite
Limericks backwards while glowing with light.
The cows held a disco, the ducks held a vote,
And a hedgehog proposed—in a velvet-lined coat.

“Dear Ballykillduff,” Alice whispered with glee,
“You’re wonderfully odd and quite perfect for me.”
Then the beetroot returned and it opened a crack—
“Time to go home, if you want to go back…”

She waved her goodbyes to the sheep and the crowd,
To the tractor, the frogs, and the goose dressed in shroud.
And she whispered as Ballykillduff slipped from view,
“That was stranger than Wonderland—and the scones were quite new.”

 
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Posted by on August 5, 2025 in A new Alice in Wonderland story, Alice in Wonderland, alice in wonderland adventure, ballykillduff

 

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