<span style="font-style: italic">Norrowist was a small town thrown in the mist of a rather dusty Oregon state. The town was far from what most would consider normal, and it was far from city life with the exception of its home town colleague. It was the southâ€™s most unknown town, and it deemed to stay that way because of its inhabitants. The inhabitants of this town have been awakened to a cruel, and rather harsh reality. They are allâ€¦every single one of them apart of a story, and not just any story, but fairy tale stories. Where reality meets imagination. None knew of their tragic fate or the never ending happy endings, and sometimes had no clue they were apart of this confusing and cruel world. Take it from me as the narrator there was not a town that could be crueler and yet happier all at the same time. Logically that should not be possible but in a place where logic is thrust aside anything fairy tallish is possible. <br/><br/>It is that time of year for Norrowist to vote for a new Mayor. This is crucial in any town but even more so here in this deserted country fairy tale town. Where the fight for Mayor can be as bloody, and hurtful as a  battle of  war. The last Mayor has set up a hell of a battle for the next Mayor, who  must not be caniving, untrustworthy, and all at the same time appear to all citizens of the town. This is hard in the land of Norrowist because of its inhabitants that  vary and have different ideas on how the town is run. So heed my advice and if you knew any better do not walk these streets at night.<br/><br/>Sincerely, <br/>your narrator</span><br/><br/>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><span style="color: #80FFFF">Rodney Arnestan was taking his usual place at town square where the people were bustling, and mingling on there way to work, and to stores. Since school was a slight delay, and a vacation it seemed that the blaring sun was the only thing keeping him company as he played his trombone. Every once in a while a pickle old folk or a young happy person would pass by and drop a couple coins in his black top hat. Of course her would never keep the money , and always kept an eye out for the scary white pigeons that seem to scream at him of the fate that lays before him. He fears nothing, and so finds nothing worth being afraid of besides pigeons. (Damn those things suck)<br/><br/>He moved his hands expertly over the places that made notes on the trombone but as he did so something landed on his shoulder. Something large, white, and beady. "GET OFFF ME YOU CRAZY ASS BIRD." His arm immediately went to swat the bird off him but apparently it had friends and suddenly a flock of them landed on him. The trombone fell and clanked onto the cement pathway, and he found himself dancing around in circles in fear. Then as if drawn by his insanity he ran down the road with the flock of pigeons chasing after him. Leaving his hat with money in it and his trombone behind. That was normally the reason why he ended up paying with his own money to the poor. <br/><br/>After 5 minutes he ended up running to the front of the local grocery store where he kicked a pigeon and fell backwards onto his back. His hand scrapping the pavement and running red. The pigeons than stopped harassing him, and shuffled to his feet , wiping the blood on his black pants. The crowd was now staring at him like he was crazyâ€¦maybe he was a teed bit crazy but so arenâ€™t they right? "WHAT YOU LOOOOOOKING ATTTTTTTT?" He stomped his foot and walked back to his trombone and hat. He grabbed his top hat and scooped up the little cash that was in his hat, and placed it on his head. Then took the trombone and placed it in the case, and picked up the case. Not soon after he was tapped on the shoulder. "What do you want?"<br/></span><br/>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><span style="color: #FFBFFF">Truella Cordalia sat in the restaurant named <span style="font-style: italic">Wolfâ€™s cove </span>were most people sat around and drank their coffeeâ€™s and wine with a bleak smile on there face. Lifeâ€¦..as they call it. She looked out the window messing with the half eaten cinnamon roll on her plate as if it was there just for show. The fact that she could only tell the truthâ€¦or well no lies was well a bummer in life when she saw how easily other people lived with their lives. She ran a thin hand through her long black hair then stood up leaving a large tip , and walked out the restaurant. <span style="font-style: italic">Truella can only tell the truth , what a downer.</span> Those were the words of the town. She heaved a sigh. Then some old women walked up to her and poked her in the side. <span style="font-style: italic">Miss you only tell the truth nothing butâ€¦.will my husband die. </span><br/><br/>"I canâ€™t tell the future." Which was the truth but if she told the lady that her husband was actually going to die since everyone knew the old ladyâ€™s husband was taken by some disease it was rather obvious. She turned and walked away from the old lady and found that the streets were bustling and that the theater in the town seemed to be going smoothly. She glanced down the road where a boy seemed to be kicking pigeons. " Oh god not himâ€¦.has he realized that he fears them yet?" She huffed a laugh and crossed the street to avoid being trampled by white pigeons. The usual weirdness in this town. <br/><br/>She watched in humor as the pigeons harassed Rodney , then kept walking when the scene was over. The sun was up so it was safe to walk through the town. Of course she looked to the town square to see puss in boots stamping on squirrels, as well as talking to them. It was odd to see it but it made her laugh. <br/></span>