Excerpts From Nonexistent Books

Afloat in the sea, it makes no sound
Its music is light, as it bobs up and down
A gossamer being, of water and waves
Venom arms below, food drawn to its grave
It sings of beauty that doesn’t need eyes
Of ebbing and flowing with such silent sighs

Collection Bureau Report #8100N

In September 1979, a homeowner in the city of [REDACTED] near [REDACTED] cut down a tree in his backyard. The tree, an old oak, was roughly 150-200 years old, and contained a particularly large squirrel nest, or drey, which was destroyed in the process. The homeowner, intending to build a patio where the tree had been, was forced to temporarily halt construction when his hired workers were repeatedly attacked by a frenzied squirrel, which set upon them, biting and scratching, with a fury that surprised all of them.

Unable to deal with the rodent assault, the project was postponed to the next day, when an exterminator was scheduled to arrive. However, the homeowner soon found that the squirrel continued to assault his home, attempting to smash its way in through windows and chew its way through wooden walls and doorframes. This made it impossible to sleep, and the homeowner later fired several bullets at the squirrel to no avail before being stopped by police.

The exterminator set a variety of traps, but despite clearly taking the bait, the squirrel did not seem affected and its attacks did not abate. Three separate attempts to have animal control relocate the squirrel also failed, even though the last placed it more than 5 miles away.

The attacks did not stop until 51 days later, when the homeowner found the emaciated body of the squirrel in his porch, with it apparently having starved to death. The Bureau, upon claiming and analyzing the remains, found that the squirrel was female and had recently given birth, and that it had seemingly not eaten for the 51 days that its assaults lasted. Reports that the homeowner continued to be harassed by squirrels until he died 18 months later of [REDACTED] caused by [REDACTED] could not be substantiated.

I willingly, even cheerfully, accepted the appellation of “hedge wizard” that was thrust upon me. I knew it was meant as an insult, but I found it to be liberating, even empowering, A hedge wizard was one with no formal training, one who had taught themselves the Art through sheer aptitude and will.

Yes, there were some idiosyncrasies; a hedge wizard was never going to win a sorcery competition. But they also retained a deep connection to the land, to the people. They were the ones sought out for blessings and spells, cantrips and enchantments, when the learned mages of the cities were too busy, too self-absorbed, too expensive.

I accept the title of “hedge wizard” and I wear it with pride.

As for the second part of her attempted insult, “stinky,” though…

Q: Why don’t students like microbiology teachers?

A: Because they always give tardigrades.

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Named after the old Welsh placename Flyyke, the town of Flake became known as Great Flake after an 1855 visit from Queen Victoria, who was reported to be “well pleased” by the two hours that she spent there. As Great Flake, the town came to be known as something of a discount seaside resort, with beaches that were generally of an inferior quality but also of an inferior price, leading to them being often an easy third or fourth choice when the other beachfront towns were occupied or too expensive.

The decline of the tourist trade in the mid-20th century hit Great Flake hard, but it was luckily soon able to make up the difference with a new and profitable industry: drugs, and the smuggling thereof.

A song they did sing, so loud and so clear
Of that which brings joy to e’ery buccaneer
Booty, booty, and booty some more
The very thing to make pirate hearts soar
Booty of gold, plundered from chests
Booty of hips, and all of the rests
Regardless of whether it’s women or gold
The allure of sweet booty will never grow old

“I guess I’m a little confused about what makes this gold ‘evil.’ It’s just gold. It doesn’t have a morality.”

“Well, it started as conflict gold, hauled from the earth under slave labor conditions by miners in Ouagadougou.”

“Okay, but-”

“Then it was bought by the Cult of Sethsirius and cast into an idol of their dark god, who promises his acolytes a swift and merciful death as their only reward.”

“Right, but-”

And then, after being stolen, it was melted down into bullion and traded for drugs before being used to buy child soldiers to guard an opium field.”

“Sure, okay, fine. But what has it done recently?”

“It killed a man by falling on him. Unprovoked.”

“Still not sold on its evilness, sorry.”

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