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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

brahahaha...yer gunna sanarl at me...brahahaha

Submitted: October 31, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 31, 2017









The actual moment of realization cannot be pinned down to an exact time. It happened over a vast period and came to fullness only when it was all over.

Aders Drin banged his head on a low hanging branch as he rode his horse along a supposedly well-manicured bridle path. It knocked him off his horse flipping him ass over tea kettle, twice before he landed on the cinder path with a long scraping action that burned a hole in his trousers and scraped a few layers of skin off his buttocks. I guess he should have paid closer attention.


How long he laid there, unconscious before he came too to the experience of nausea, excruciating pain and a severe sense of disorientation, from road rash and the head butting contest with a tree branch causing an enormous headache and a welt as big as a goose egg on his forehead.

When he woke Aders was no longer on the bridle path and his horse was nowhere to be seen. In fact there was no path at all. In its place was a swamp in which Aders was standing up to his knees and his knee high riding boots were full of water.


"Where am I?" He asked weakly.

"Hummm. A human in Yukersnok. Again." The answer came gurgling through.

Aders looked about, hither and tither until he spied a frog floating just below the surface of the water and its mouth was moving.

"What mess do you get into to bring you to Yukersnok Mire?"

"Banged my head and fell off my horse." Aders Drin answered. "At least that is what happened just before I got here."

"Of course. You humans never come here unless there is some dramatic dilemma"

"Well push on you. I didn't come here willingly."




The frog, whose name was Ferrrog, crawled up onto a lily pad and fixed his big, black, bulbous eyes on Aders. It was a critical stare. One that a judge might afford a criminal who has just been found guilty of a nauseous crime.

Ferrrog said in his natural croaking voice. "Willingly or not, you are here and should not be here and most definantly should not be able to be having this conversation. This circumstance of course means something very strange and unorthodox is happening. You are the first human who is capable of conversing with the inhabitants of Yukersnok."


"Not true. Not true." Another indigenous of Yukersnok blurted out. Aders head snapped around and there in a mound of drier earth stood a Venus flytrap with its jaws flipping open and closed gobbling up flies.

"I've gone over the edge. My brain is scrambled. Still I must ask, "Who else like me has come to the oddity of places?"

"The old hermit. He came in through the Bog and lives in a shack near the bog he came through." Described Mr. Flytrap.

"And where do I find him and his bog?" Asked Aders Drin.

"That way" Flytrap pointed.


"Good. I will go find him and maybe he can explain all this to me." Aders announced and strode of at a hurried pace wanting nothing more to do with talking frogs and Venus Flytraps.

And he did not have to walk far, nor did he get away from indigeonouses that could talk.

Indeed he found the hermits shack but he was also confronted by a talking turtle and snake, both whom wanted to know who was trespassing in Yukernok.

"Why are you interloping in Yukersnok Human." The Turtle, a large snapper, demanded.

"Indeed." Hissed the snake.


"Like I told the frog and the Trap. I bumped my head on a branch and got knocked of my horse. When I woke I was here." Aders answered. "Now I am looking for the Hermit."

The Turtle laughed. "He's looking for Mr. Crotchol at this time of day."

"Humans really are odd creatures. Who would look for Hermit Crotchol before the morning rain?"

"Only a fool." The snake replied...hisssssssssss.

"Where can I find him before the morning rain?" Aders queried suspiciously.

"Asleep in the Bog of course. How could you not know that?" Demanded the Turtle.

"Where is the Bog?" Aders inquired.


The snaked flicked its tongue in the direction of the Bog which was next to the shack hidden by brambles and hawthorns.

"Thank you Mr. Snake." Aders responded distractedly as he walked toward the bog.

"You might be sorry for disturbing the Hermit. He's a grump this time of day." Warned the turtle.

"Right now he ain't half as mean as I feel. My head is throbbing now and my stomach is flipping up and over. I might barf." Replied Aders.

"I suggest you do not barf in the Bog." Mr. Crotchol will not be pleased." Hisssssssed Mr. Snake.


The bog was just a bog if you know anything about bogs. If not look it up and educate yersef. Wikipedia would be a good place. And nowhere could Aders see anything that resembled a hermit, or a Mr. Crotchol or humanish for that manner. Something did slither deeper into the bog though...and disappeared in a blink of light.

"What the hey. I'll just follow the Slithery thing." Cried Aders as he jumped feet first into the bog....just as he barfed. I am sure you can imagine the mess it caused, unless of course you have never barfed before.


Well. Here we are at the end of our story and I am sure you want to k now what happened to Aders Drin. To be quite honest I don't really know. I ran out of coffee before I came up with the answer and since I really have to get on with my day I must to move on.

However. There is a silver lining in the bog of your imagination so you can decide the fate of Aders Drin in your own way. Or you could always go try and find Mr. Crotchol.




© Copyright 2018 Donald Harry Roberts. All rights reserved.

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