“said Annaelit, the Teller of Tales, “a wicked minor god—nay, a sarcastic puny god—decided that humankind in and of itself contained very little to amuse the divine Pantheon. And so, one godlike morning, this deity gathered a fistful of his beard shavings, and shook it out profusely over the universe.” “Aieee!” The children gathered at the storyteller’s feet clapped and giggled and squealed in wicked delight. “You all know what happens next, don’t you?” said the young woman, feigning dis...gust. “How is one supposed to tell you anything when you already know all the best stories?” “Tell it anyway! Tell us the rest!” they cried while rolling around on their backs and flailing their limbs. There was much stomping of feet against the beaten floor of the hovel. “All right then, but I will make it short, since it is getting late, little goslings. Where was I? Oh yes, the divine beard shavings.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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