Ahhh...the contrast of creating the right welcoming...

There exists in writing Wormwood valley a contrast that continues to present a problem, akin to the removal of a wart from the nasal crest of a giant Wormwood Forest Root Ogre.

This contrast is creating the proper introduction to Wormwood Valley for young readers, and yet, adequately providing interest in Wormwood Valley's primary character, Eye Ball Boy (or E.B. for short as he prefers to be called). If he were nothing other than a regular human lad, then perhaps the problem would not be quite as extensive, but his strange and somewhat disturbing physical feature (or lack thereof) provides quite the challenge. How does one become instantly "attached" to a young boy that consists of little more than a giant eyeball, and a set of gangly pre-teen limbs draped in faded jeans and a grey hooded sweatshirt?

Such is the twisted realm of Wormwood Valley!

An excerpt from Wormwood Valley-Quest for the Golden Hook...

A small sampling of the first chapter of Wormwood Valley, straight from the un-authorized archival version personally owned and transcribed from ancient anglo-saxon celt-nyrdyvian by Sir Finneus McShrinks, owner and curator of the Wormwood valley Natural History and Ancient Free-Explorers Guild.

Our thanks to our readers who have so fervently requested said transcription as part of our weekly series on the mythology, history, and fables of Wormwood Valley.

From deep below Wormwood Square,

Inkley Tolew III Esq.

Editor-in-Command,

Wormwood Daily Information Publication

1.

Wormwood Valley

Wormwood Valley is not your typical place. And Wormwood Valley is not your typical book.

You see, in Wormwood Valley it is extremely important to keep an open mind. So perhaps things should be explained a bit first.

Wormwood Valley sat along the coast of a far off land, long forgotten and surrounded by high snow-capped mountains. No one really knew exactly where Wormwood was, and no one really cared to find out. Wormwood consisted of nothing really; No amusement parks, attractions, tourist spots or even an abundance of noteworthy natural beauty. The one thing Wormwood did contain was trees, lots and lots of trees. Strange, dark, crinkly old trees. They were un-friendly and all-together uninviting trees. Trees that hid things.

Despite the darkness of Wormwood Valley’s vast forests and very long nights, it could be a very adventurous and exciting place to live. Sundown in Wormwood was usually around four in the afternoon, and sunrise somewhere in the neighborhood of ten in the morning. The people of Wormwood never had much use for the sun. The darkness and the moon were much more fun, and besides, who needs all that light anyways? The darkness hides things, and sometimes, that’s a good thing.

In Wormwood Valley there were of course flowers, parks, and miles and miles of trees to play, run and hide in, and creativity was highly encouraged. The residents of Wormwood (if you could call them that) were most definitely ‘strange.’ They were not your typical neighbors and each had a unique, and sometimes, secret history all their own. There were of course families, children, pets, schools, dentists, doctors, mailmen and sanitation engineers, but no one, not even the town mayor, knew exactly how they got to Wormwood. You see, in Wormwood, no one ever grew up, and no one ever got old. There were old and young of course, but that’s how they had always been, and that’s how they always would be. They just were. This never really mattered much to the people of Wormwood Valley because these questions were not something they necessarily wanted to know the answers to. And you may not either!

Wormwood was a very strange place, and the people of Wormwood (if you could call them that) were most definitely ‘strange.’ There were of course families, children, pets, schools, dentist’s doctor’s mailmen and sanitation engineers, but no one, not even the town mayor, knew exactly how they got to Wormwood. You see, in Wormwood, no one ever grew up, and no one ever got old. There were old and young of course, but that’s how they had always been, and that’s how they always would be. They just were. This never really mattered much to the people of Wormwood Valley because these questions were not something they necessarily wanted to know the answers to. And you may not either!

You see, in Wormwood, no one ever asked questions, about anything! They never asked for a menu. They never asked for directions. They never asked where to mail a letter, or where to sharpen scissors, or even where the restroom was located! And they certainly never asked how Wormwood came to be! It was not important, and it was not considered polite. Everyone had stories and legends and myths and ideas of course, but no one really knew for sure. One of the many things that made Wormwood Valley so peculiar was that no one asked too many questions. It was considered quite rude. Oh you could certainly ask, but questions were not believed to all have answers, and those that did were often ignored altogether. In Wormwood Valley, the residents lived by a strict motto:

Don’t ask too many questions, for you may not like the answers!

So just where and what, was Wormwood? To explain the people of Wormwood Valley, one must have quite the imagination. If you are not such an individual, this is perhaps the best place for you to now put this story down, and move along to something that makes a bit more ‘sense.’ Go ahead. Here is your chance.

Very well. Since it is considered rude to ask, I will save you the trouble and tell you how the people of Wormwood come to be, even though they themselves do not really know (and they certainly would never ask). Have you ever wondered what happens to all the people, things, ideas, sketches, stories and drawings that get ‘thrown away?’ What do you think happens to that poor half-drawn doggy that you crumpled up and discarded because it looked more like a rhinoceros then a Springer Spaniel? What do you think became of those gruesome images you put onto paper of what you would like to do to your teacher, little brother or even your sisters’ dolls? Every drawing, every painting, every piece of scrap ever imagined through ink and chalk and paint and lead…becomes real!

When that line is drawn, when that ‘magic wand’ you call a pencil touches the paper, amazing, wonderful, and magical things can begin to happen! Even dangerous things! Look closely, and you might begin to see them appear, right before your very eyes! They all have to go somewhere. And that ‘somewhere’ is Wormwood Valley. So as I’m sure you can imagine, there is quite a range of citizens in Wormwood Valley. All different, all unique, and all, very, very real!

How to spend a rainy afternoon in Wormwood

Ahh..fall.

As the rains and the clouds begin to roll through our little valley, and the air turns to that slightly sharp feel, leaving just a tint of burnt smell on ones nose, it causes a reflection that makes one seek the great indoors. and here fellow Wormwood readers, is a recommended recipe for a safe and satisfying rainy afternoon in Wormwood. Afterall, we all know that the rains bring out all sorts of nasty's in the forests, and what better way to spend a dark dank fall afternoon than surrounded by a smart blend of good advice?

1) Start with a nice hot cup of Wormwood Peppermint Tea.

Everyone knows that in wOrmwood valley everything is bigger, stranger, and in the case of Wormwood Peppermint, far more potent than anywhere else in the know Realms. I recommend three leaves of wormwood Peppermint steeped in a piping hot cup and served with just a smidgen of rosemary (also a local WOrmwood favorite!)

2) Move on to a comfortable spot, a nice chair, a soft couch, a large wooden desk, preferably one surrounded by old books, dusty tomes, and various instruments of imagination, exploration, and inspiration. there is nothing better than spending the afternoon exploring ones imagination over a hot cup of team and in a nice dark study. Wormwood Peppermint tea tends to open the pathways n the brain, enlightening it's partaker and creating new ideas, interesting thoughts, magical stories, and even more magical happenings!

3) Surround yourself with good music. Put a quiet disc on the phonograph machine, plug in your latest electronically activated contraption or sit quietly and hum your favorite tune as you look at the rain, dropping like crystal sparks of bouncing mercury from the mottled pillows of grey far above the valley.

4) Envelop yourself into your surroundings. Light a candle, spark a flame, a bit of incense, a smidgen of potpourri.

5) Think upon the mysteries of time, adventure, exploration, creativity, and by all means, let the mind wander and take you on a journey. Be calm, be restful, breathe in deep the aroma of peppermint and rosemary as you listen tot the thunder roll and boom through the valley and echo off the Cliffs of Siddle far to the east over the rolling waves of the great sea.

That my friends, is how to best spend a rainy day in Wormwood.

Although you could of course join the town guard for a day of Giant Flesh Eating Slug hunting as they rid the roads of the harassing robbers and meat-eating bandits and their slimy trails of foul putrescence.

There is always the Wormwood Rain Drop Guild's annual semi-weekly bi-monthly (weather permitting of course) rain drop counting extravaganza that takes place in the heart of Wormwood Square. A winner has yet to ever be decided, and the competition is now in it's 333 year!

Lastly, we should suggest one more treat for the materialistically inclined shopper of all things Wormwood. The Wormwood Rain market, where one can find only the most peculiar of oddities for sale only brought to market under gloomy skies and foul weather. It is here that one can by anything from Mandrake root to broken wands to spell books gone awry. There is a peculiar array of old bones and unidentifiable skeletal remains that the Wormwood Natural History collegium has all but given up on identifying as well. They are always needing to make room in their archives for some newly discovered monstrosity, and that of course, means out with the old, and in with the, well...older.

Yes Wormwood continues to be a magical place as the season change from summer to fall, the leaves twinkle and the rain begins to keep the valley that deep shade of misty green. So enjoy the change, embrace the rain.

For once the darkness of winter sets in, Wormwood is a much more uninviting place. Dangerous even.

Reporting from deep below Wormwood Square,

Inkly Tolew the Third Esq.

Manager, Operator, Owner

Wormwood Valley Daily Information Operations Publication

Cool September mornings and blood in the Water...

As we approach the coming pirating season, on of the most famous of all Wormwood Pirating mysteries is the secret underground location of the Peg Leg's Pirate ship, the SS Pointy Pontoon.

The SS Pointy Pontoon supposedly sits anchored deep underground, reached only through a complex and confusing set of catacombs, mazes and tunnels connected directly into the Wormwood Valley sewer system. The sewers beneath Wormwood are quite ancient and astoundingly complex. they overlap, twist and turn every few feet only to end in long dark holes, shallow drains and mysterious closed doors deep beneath the Wormwood Mountains.

The only entrance and exit known is that of the Wormwood River flow-through gate, south of town and nestled somewhere deep in the jagged rocks of the Wormwood River Cliffs. It is somewhere beneath these dark and foreboding waters that the Peg Leg's, one of the most ferocious and dedicated of Wormwood's Pirating teams struggles for their chance at this years Golden Hook Tournament. But it is their surroundings and their peculiar choice of practice locales that gives the SS Pointy Pontoon and even darker reputation, for legend says that the SS Pointy Pontoon sits anchored directly beneath Billy Blood Falls.

Billy Blood Falls was named after Billy Bilgerat, a local resident who attempted to float down the falls of the Wormwood River in a barrel he had made in his 17th century cooper arts class specifically for the feat. Billy advertised his stunt all over Wormwood, tacking signs to every light post in town and even taking out a full page ad in our very own Wormwood paper, the Wormwood Valley Daily Information Operations Publication. It was a warm September morning when the entire town turned out to witness Billy’s amazing stunt, complete with the Wormwood School String Ensemble and Celebratory Funeral Band. Banners flapped in the morning breeze, the sun glistened off of the foaming spray of the Wormwood River casting shimmering rainbows across the many residents gathered at the waters edge. Everyone watched as Billy entered his barrel just at the edge of the rapidly falling river, his pudgy frame squeezing into the barrel like a tiny black silhouette against a clear morning sky of deep blue. He sealed the lid shut with the help of the towns local Master Cooper, Mr. Abacus, and put in above the waterfall, some 375 feet above. The barrel bobbed and bounced as it neared the edge of the waterfall, and momentarily stopped as if stuck on a branch or rock. the crowd gasped, the band fell silent, and the anticipation hung in the air like the droplets of water sticking to the dense branches of the surrounding Wormwood trees. Curiously, the barrel continued to hover, right at the edge of the falls as if there was some unseen hand keeping Billy from completing his foolish attempt. Suddenly the barrel pitched to its side, rolled and slowly fell from the river above in an almost slow-motion like descent.

Silence fell over the gathered masses, the only sound the echoing thunder of the crashing water. The crowd watched as the barrel seemed to float gently down, disappearing into the white misty abyss below, the roar of the falls deafening the barrels splash to silence. Everyone shuffled quickly to the edge of the river, scanning the water frantically for any sign of the barrel’s surfacing from the thick frothy depths. They watched, and watched…and watched, but Billy, and his barrel, never surfaced. The only sign of Billy’s ludicrous stunt was a faint shadow of red watery blood, swirling in the waters and churning with the falling river.

wormwood called out the local town rescue militia, complete with a cadre' of the towns best swimmers and searched all day for poor Billy or any signs of his barrel. by nightfall, the search had to be called off. the woods were far to dangerous to search at night, and the Wormwood River especially. All sorts of nasty things were known to come out to drink at night along the edges of the Wormwood River, and that would only make the search more complicated. It's quite difficult to swim in a raging river in the dark when one is being hunted by a Giant Black Fin Water Worm, or the notorious Wormwood River Gulp Gulley's, massive silvery fish that glow by the light of their own beating organs, ever pursuant up stream for their next meal.

for three more days the crews searched, all the while bringing no sign of Billy Bilgerat or his barrel. The Mayor of Wormwood Valley, Prime Grinnister Marvin ‘The Hack’ Burnstyle, declared it a day of morning, banned barrel stunts from Wormwood Valley and re-named the waterfall Billy Blood Falls in his honour.

To this day, some say that the waterfall splashes forth a faint red cloud of mist each morning in the month of September as it splashes into the river below and continues its flow through the Wormwood Pirating Arena and out to sea, as if Billy’s ghost is calling from beneath the depths, longing to be remembered once more for his foolhardy and ludicrous stunt.

He was awarded, posthumously of course for his record-setting barrel float and his prize winning barrel. Mr. Abacus, the Master Cooper and teacher of 16th and 17th century Coopering Arts at the Wormwood Valley School never quite got over the loss. Billy's barrel was said to be one of the best barrels he had ever seen made by one of his students, and he felt Billy had quite the future in pirate barrel making ahead of him.

To this day, many an eye watches the banks of the Wormwood River as it flows and ebb's its way through town in the month of September, each looking for a spot of blood, or a sliver of wood that might bring them good luck, passed down the falls by little Billy Bilgerat.

Reporting from deep below Wormwood Square,

Inkly Tolew the Third Esq.

Manager, Operator, Owner

Wormwood Valley Daily Information Operations Publication