༗ Table of Contents
To the Observant Onlooker :
Recovering a clutter of an office, there exists a moment in my schedule to relay the evenings anecdotes.
After relieving an ailing porcupine of his withering quills, the rodent graciously gifting his spares as compensation for Gunther's woes, I now devote time to preparing a packet of Echinacea petals for a dear patient of mine suffering a severe cold resulting in a tempestuous tumble and a loose fragment of collar bone. Discovering a fresh volume in the piles of un-organized thoughts, I thought it best to speak on the matter of tall tales, considering it works wonders in exercising the conscience of patients, especially the children. But perhaps the account of a rousing troupe of circus eccentrics performs... Oh. Here comes Gunther with those bilberries I requested.
=====
To The Incredulous Interloper:
Awash in a bowl of honeycomb, what a taxing stench.
Hardly an evening spoiled.
Before the volumes are fed the recipes of soothing stews, I must remind myself to relay the patient's tales, that I might not deprive the children, indeed, even the grey hairs, of the truest account. Therefore, I ought to pitch the earliest stake through the wheel of a wagon, a hardy device, weathered, and faded in the color pink. Though surely, it once sported a red complexion, now within it dangles multitudes of string, all clattering in their slumber within the arms of their precious cargo, the marionettes. Below them, a gangly creature of unusual height hidden in the folds of spotted patches hastily sown, is their guardian, known by the crude threads of blue stitched in a white blanket, held upright by nails, as Ring. Aside from the odd newspaper, Ring maintained a fame of performance, but the brief respite is entirely dedicated to the first love of wood and metal, and a duty to ensure the well-being of The Halcyon Eight.
Harken. I believe the mail hath arrived. When will the mail learn to cease pulling upon the loose hinge and tap as befitting of the iron construction? Perhaps, there is a remedy for that.
=====
For the Listening Ear :
Often there lies a passing shadow of great sadness at the day of the elder instructor's end. For though they are my birth and my raising, when they leave I fear I am the last of them. And I fear, they are the last of the folk who understood so accurately this walk as they did the natural breath. When they pass, it as if the whole sum of those impartial, who understood, stopped breathing.
Gunther. I fear we are alone.
=====
To the remains :
Unto the crimes, we lay a resting.
For should the dawn come, could we ever recieve it?
Shall we ever percieve it?
The glow of Crimson, the scent that bathes the Sun.
When children run home with treasures they hath found,
May the gentle carry the lamb unto their bosom,
And inspect the measure of its worth?
Or, shall the standard fall by the wayside,
Trampled by the ambition of souls made of earth.
=====
To The Wishful Witness:
The depths of the evening's tales are ever increasing.
Allow me a slight respite from cataloguing these rather dreadful recipies to curtail emerging inquiries bubbling in the brain.
Gunther had unfortunately sustained an injury whilst traversing the mountainous wonders that is Bellow Range as I remained away in delivering herbal concoctions to a distant bedridden resident suffering a malady. Fear not, such an Associate of mine like Gunther is far more than seemingly brittle, but few safehouses remain. Even the trees are unkind to shelter the burdened.
What remains our greatest fear is that of forgery. For you see, in attempting to study the effect of tales upon the individual's conscience have I begun to notice an attraction of unfamiliar entities. While I remain aware of how little our number counts within the present day, is it not strange that I should recieve letters from previously quiet parties? In studying past histories of our branch of medical practioners, Clinic Kyth was surely removed from our list of operating stations. And yet, here I am, holding a letter enclosed to me for the purpose of a position?
Indeed, I am quite proud of pouring countless hours into perfecting a liquid to strengthen the weak countenance of caterpillars, but exchanging my hallowed station to bear the name of Clinic Kyth? Perhaps, perhaps there is more to the name of Circus Halcyon than previously believed.
I shall wrestle with this for no more than one week. Not to make a decision, for that is clear, but of in how to respond without misunderstanding. If I am to ever come to a response.
I must be warry of misprints.
=====
Return to the First Entry.