A fairy tale from the north

Once upon a time, there was a queen who craved a child more than anything in the world. One cold winter's day her husband, the king, had a madman executed. As the madman's head fell to the ground, the blood spilled onto the snow, the ravens landed to feed, and the queen mused, 'Oh to have a little daughter, with lips as red as blood, skin as white as snow, and hair as black as the raven's wing.'

Upon hearing the charm, the madman got up, and spoke, despite being headless (the voice issued from a far lower aperture) saying 'Fine, I see no-one cares about what happens to me. I will go now and start a doctor's practice in Royton, not far from Manchester and Oldham, where being headless is a positive aid to quality of life,' and with that, the corpse tucked its severed head under its arm, and caught a train, which hauled its sorry @rse into Manchester seven years later. By then of course, the head had decomposed. 'You smell bad,' announced the corpse, 'I will turn you into a pumpkin and you can run my pharmacy...'*

You know, I may just be going off this place.



*See larians journal for further explanation.