He would sit in the garden, feeling joy from how the sunny rays warmed his skin, and listen to the tales of the gnomes. For they talk, the gnomes, if you can listen with your heart while your ears enjoy the birdsong. And as they spoke he would write, for he believed it was his duty to make a record of such things, to tell the world that there were so many stories that aren't about humans or humanity.
Upon the set sun, when starlight plays amid sweet blackness, the gnomes begin their adventures.
As old age had come, as it surely must, the gnomes had become friends, sparky characters, who chatted to Edith as she gardened.
Keep track of your favorite writers on Descriptionari
We won't spam your account. Set your permissions during sign up or at any time afterward.