8/14/2018 2:05:11 AM
Tony Vance Mason
Posts: 2
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*A book I am working on
Part One: Ms. Twilily Blooms; or The Lady that Lived Under a Tree
Book One: Trees in the Harbor of Bellsume
Along-side an old pond known as the Waterwheel Pond where the glistening pearl faerie-shells grew there sat a very old gray frog by the name of Pondell Pondhopper. He was wearing an old gray robe and atop his head he wore a wizard's hat and carried a walking stick that bore a white stone on it [it was his magical staff]; he was the oldest of all the Frogs in the Line of the Enchanted Frogs and the Frog Kingdom; his knowledge of wizardry went far back beyond the ages when the there were the birth of the original Faeries and Angels that Lived Over the Mountain of Gray Bliss. The deep grass that was 'neath his webbed feet where he wore woodden sandals were dipped into the cool Roaring River which was sparkly white and ran amid tall stones that could speak with Pondell whenever he was to use the magic from the staff that was bestowed upon him by the Enchanted Faeries of the Faerie Kingdom of Fellinore (where the faeries and some of the ancient elves lived in seceret all their magcial lives and sometims [if they were very lucky]: they could communicate with other magical or semi-magical kinfolk that lived in the countryside of the Land of Bellsume. There were pleanty of flowers in the Land of Bellsume and many of them resembled poppies, and wisteria as people might see down on the planet Ether; but in this realm there were all sorts of flowers that had magical flower-power [so to speak, for they were in their quitne'shaille mode which meant that faeries were said to have been born out of them [whereas, the angels were born out of crystals and other gemstones in the magical world of Celestia. With pepper and salt, inside a well-to-do mushroom house, a "Featherhead-woman" named Penche Wisteria-fetcha-flora said along the embankment of the Nueme Town where there were woods deeeper that the old women then lived in a planuishe environment of plimplety roses bouncing here and there awat-from the berry buschels that The Lady that Lived Under the Tree before her, knew all about . . . where Ellia brathed and lived for two short months and found and esquille-like a golden squirrel named Fea that dressed her up like some finne embroidered cloth pictogram [the embodiment of a stiicthing-form of the nuissance [that went in and out of the slip-dress she was sewing for a wall mantel piece behind glass] that was in fact delightful for the woman inside. Inside a tree where there were roots that gathered themselves along the plank of wooden ceiling. There was a tall tree in the midst of the woods where an woman lived under a tree. Inside a dustpan where there were scoops and heaps of old bits of twine and hair that the woman cut from her own head. Inside the cabinets where she kept olf broken pots, tekettles, and monies stores away for the winter, and then there were brooms and ettiquite in such a small place. Inside the place that Marlene the woman that used to live there along with her. Inside and next door where Marlene lived she swept up the old rugs and laid the foundations of a kindlier house, she knew not where toplace the silver dishes and the dolls. The slender and tidier brick-a-brack and the ancient perfected painterly dolls were inside the old glass bookcases where there were plants hung in the pots that swathed in aromas nearest the only bit of sunshine that came through a hole in the ground around the kitchen space where the woman lived, under the tree of course. Eppenvine [she wrote in her plethoric sense and gathered her tomiethel mosses and made a stew that brightened the lilies in their conjectures and felt no sense of apperatures the moment she filtered in the sun's rays by conglomerating the entwash to a nearby room down under the ground in a lit bedroom, the woman then began reciting, "Ba-swahl in the terrace of the unique fountains where the cines grew sundereth the baresh ein summer when the wilds of the trillioppes dance, causi shallumshelthe. I sing a fountain of the old nisterwithes, they dreameth and pondereth of the purplish blossoms, a vine grows north, a vine grows betwixt the blue bottle of clear glass and breaks the breakage of the eppenvine, with stale old cornbread pieces drifting in a metal dish, and linens falththuithe the straberrries light up the trees like cloud-ones do the metal rings of Nueme shail-leethe wilds of mesh-posh in the simplum carriage . . ." Fea was in a hurry to get the entire piece of the cloths done for the gnomes that lived next door in the mushroom house, a stone morwen she named it after the books her father read to her by candelebras in their oak tree that titter-tatted with peach blossoms nearbye and bye in the grass, the blamishes unseen when she ran from the rose bush, excited one of the Rose Princes jumped out and said hullo to her when the plinketty plank of the rain came down and they had nothing more to say than where was Ellia in her slippers tossing coins in the rivulet, sown and down stream by teh' cool rushing florescence of the blossoms and the white boat that laid upon the lilies floating in the painting of the water. The breakage of painting the mushroom-house was where an old man had sewn a tapestry of cats [each one, a part of a whole line of the forttunes of felines and the riches of all the china plates that were made in the dwarf homes under the trees in the midst of these woods, it began to snow and snowflake flowers came up and sprang their delightful shimmer of the peculiar houses that plopped up out of the ether [a word, referring to the soil of such a plant house known as the Vernish House of Plaquard Paints and Rosea-shells. Inside the fell-nithe portion of the largest of the paints, was a swatch and the woman that lived under the tree wanted to paint that early morning, and she had a ladder, she didn't want anyone whispering to her while she was cleaning, but the birds flew past the hole in the ceiling of the underground house anyway, and lightened up her spirits of beauty anhow. The pink-plaquard shells, the drip of the old faucet under the tree root, and the blancmange she was serving to the two dwarves that came down the stairs into the living room were quite surprised that day. Fea had a vision. She dreamt all night that the night-slippers she wore tuned silver. The slippers had been made by an enchanted fairy, and the cupboard where she had accidentally put them in the dream by another elf that thought it was very clever of her to do so. Down the hole where there was a broom, that was likewise flempt up gainst an old wall in the closet that was adjacent to the kitchen Ellia began to boast to her guest about the velnishe lamp that was tilted to oneside and made of white eggshells, and so she gathered her skirts about her and made it to the closet where the broom was kept, and her heels went "clickety- clack" along the old floors of the room, and she went dusting about until she found a bottle of spray perfume that she placed inside her white frilled skirt pocket and made it back up the stairs to the living room where she haad left her guests. Fea knew not where the old red clay pot stood, with a little bit of faerie dust so shae named it like the book she had read about old wizard spells, and the folklore of the angels as well as some of her line of family friends that were elves. "Aegio Purnell, a versh-mosh?" asked the winab that was a small animal with blue fur that was hopping through the forrest and said hullo to the woman that lived under the tree; it sort of resembled a rabbit, with a bouncy fluffy little tale and it was very glad to see that the woman was having dwarves over for a cup of tea, and a little of parlettle, "Ecusame, noi vernish ketsuittle; have you heard of The White Feathertree Book?" There is such an essence of the wildflowers in th ewindowsill and about my abode, I have always wondered of that famous twiboat ride between the girl frog Petil and Prince Etheryl? Nur-lesh-there is something wonderful about doing a rain dance in the weeds, old Pondell taught me how to make the most perfect dance with his hollow reeds and make a semblence of things in my paintings, like orbs and stuff. The purplish lilacs were coming out of the ground. The woman that lived under a flower was ringing a fosforecent belle-de-blume-blanc that was displayed in the over head basket outside the hhouse and the woman and the dwarves finished thier spots of tea and rose out of the ground from the ladder and as the woman poked her head out of the ground there was a sudden wind that misted and fogged around her head and she was "Mrs. Twilily. Her hair sprouted with lilies growing out of her head and nearbye through the fog she saw that Ms. Peaseblosoom was running with a basket of eggs. Ms. Nealy Rose Petals who had roses [red, and sometims white was ploshing through the garden in slick-clak galoshes the shade of yellow because there was a rain that came down suddenly and the rose petals atop her head were drenched with peckles of rainwater. A rake and a twowel appeared outside the Home Under the Tree where Ms. Twiily was at [because of course whe was a Flower-head-woman, amongst her friends that lived in the world of Enchanting. Flowerheads, and Featherheads, of course, were like sprouting burgeons, and they knew exactly what they snipped from the rose gardens and the extreme plastic-flowers that grew alongside the embankment, as begun in this book and history of the Feather-head and Flower-head women; they were similiar to dryads only they wer good faeries of that sort, and beauty; the larlack-winged sprout woman sat in the tree nearest Ms. Peasblosom's House of Peach Flowers and opened the door to let some of the children mice out of the cellar where they had an abode as well, under a wyle [which, of course was the pleasant Doorkeeper of the World of Enchanting [in those days, when the faerie lore was just beginning in that side of the woods." Epscalome, in the varish heights og'em, the light flutters to a simme, the light gathers and brings the shar-vatum orchards of peaseblosoom flowers and their likelihood of their memzmorizing gaze toward the white mountains when they are [have been, risen] in the old ways the gazing flower face rose when the rose was at its full height og'em of the wild twilacs and the hydrangea blooms. The gastiliomes hiding in the buds brough a new sign by the old pond where Pondell Pondhopper was skinning a hollow reed and carving it to make a flute; the next day he ran into Ms. Nealy Rose Petals, and asked her for a buschel of rose-whites from the garden she was tending. In a world where there was light, there were also shadows, and Ms. Twilily knew of that. She knew that the old frog Pondell was one of her closest friends. There was a lady with a vacuum cleaner and a woman with a spray can full of rosebuds. She knew not wither the flower would turn still, or meander down the dirt road until she came across old Twickhamshire. There were other "Mounds" in those days, other doors that in and down and through the abodes of the liklihood that one might meet a gnome. Ms. Peaseblossom with her head full of sprightly peases, knew not where the garden shed grew about the adornment of the Pelicure House that was down the Road of Aesundille. Teals and trills was the fashion of sorts, that Old Agio Purnell had placed beside the Frolsome Avenues where there were places of signs and doors that led to other weerlds. There was a White Mound, where featheres blossomed and grew out of the meshce and found it's guardians filled with sprightly faeries and angel statues made by the Old Pondell Pondhopper himself in elder days when the grammar was a flailleing-superior heart and there were oldsome branches of ne'er forgotten wailthes.
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