Sunday Photo Fiction: No One Seems to Mind
The pup was the only building in the forest. Hunters stopped to and from the hunt. They stayed to play cards, listen to the music, hear tall tales, and drink the finest beer in all the land.
The Fox was named after its owner because of his red hair and long nose. No one seemed to notice that he hadn’t aged in 80 years. Perhaps it was the strong drink or maybe, no one cared.
Someone built a boarding house for visitors to stay the night. Another built a tavern to serve hot meals. Homes appeared among the trees. Soon there was a town.
Visitors have come and gone, but The Fox is still there as are its regulars.
It takes a keen eye to realize the little fellow called Fox really is a red fox. The man in the racking chair, by the fireplace, is a wizard. The boisterous group at the far table are dwarfs. The piano player and singer are elves. The waitresses are fairies. If asked, anyone of them will tell you of their adventures.
The Fox is the only pup where fantasy creatures and mortals mingle, and no one minds.
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