I don’t know why, but I’m in the mood for writing some fiction. To read or not to read? It’s up to you. More to come? It’s up to my schedule.

Part I {In which there is much backstory, a chance meeting, and a mysterious warning.}

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Once upon a time, in a land not so far from here called Henesys, there lived a young boy whose life’s ambition was to become a Hero. The boy had an unusual name, and whenever he was introduced to someone new, they would always hear the same story. He had repeated this anecdote so many times, it came as naturally to him as “good, and you?” comes after a friend asks how you are doing. “My mom said I popped out right out of her womb and said “o ty poopas” to the doctor, who just happened to be a Poison Poopa.”

Congratulations, it’s a– Wow, that is one ugly baby…

And so, with his parents taking that to be a sign that their newborn child was a prodigy, bestowed what may soon prove to be the child’s greatest gift upon him: his name, Thanks Pappas.

Thanks led quite an uneventful childhood. Traveling to school every day to fill his brain with all sorts of syntax structures and complex algorithms, and coming home every night to help his parents on the family seed farm. “Well, someone has to collect them so someone else far more adventurous and brave can save the Moon Bunny!” his father always said. Thanks wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in class, but he and the the few friends he had were inseparable. He and his friends Bryan and Sunset would spend hours together, pretending to be nimble archers that could take down a mighty dragon with a single arrow or powerful spell casters adorned billowing robes of gold and black. “That really will be me someday,” Thanks would mumble to himself many times during recesses in Mushroom Park. He would sometimes sit alone on the grassy steps by the fountain for hours, fantasizing about the magical lands that lay just out of his reach, beyond the edges of the village. Lands that were filled with giant golems and vicious sharks ready for the slaying. He had been inspired by an old woman who visited Henesys long ago. He had first seen her one fateful day, wandering around outside the Free Market entrance, discreetly asking passers-by if they had gardening equipment for sale.

Do you have a pot to sell me, little one?

Even at the tender age of 5 years and 3 months, he was already concerning himself with the welfare of others in the community. He approached the lady and said in a squeaky voice, “Excuse me, miss. I haven’t seen you ar-” he started. “Oh greetings, little boy! What’s your name?” the old woman said hoarsely. Thanks could tell that her voice bore the marks of years of wisdom. “Say, do you have any pots? That would really help me out. It’s for uh… Bung’s mama…” she whispered in an undertone. “Erm no, sorry,” Thanks replied. “Oh… That’s ok. Hey kid, listen. Don’t end up like me. Make something of yourself. You can be somebody. Imagine people all over Victoria Island raising their glasses and speaking your name! You can be a hero, little- Oh!” At this point, another villager walked by, and the old woman hobbled away to catch his attention, no doubt interrogating him over the last known whereabouts of his potted begonias.

A hero… I like the sound of that, Thanks thought to himself. And with those thoughts floating around in his consciousness, he wandered home, barely noticing that a patch of grass that had nothing but a few wildflowers and butterflies that very morning now had been overshadowed by a gaudy sign staked into it.

Get ready, citizens of Henesys!
The Monster Carnival is coming to town!

To be continued… Maybe.