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!
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