"Fairy tales are more than real, not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten." - G.K. Chesterton Well, some things about me. I love to write, and the notes on my ipod are stories, poems, and songs. I love the arts (theater, music, writing, painting/drawing) and hope to one day have a recording/acting contract and be a successful author. Life under the sea is so much fun! I'm always either swimming with the dolphins or dancing with the fish. Life down the rabbit hole is fun too! I love the mad tea parties thrown by my neighbors and find it hilarious when Alice eats the mushrooms when Hatter swears she won't change sizes. I have extremely vivid dreams, and those are the stories that end up here. So whenever you read a story of mine, you're reading one of my dreams. Fun Facts- I'm a hopeless romantic, but I know how to live in reality. I'm a flag-twirler and love doing it(: I can be a klutz, but I still love falling. When people see me, they think my outfits are crazy, but what I wear isn't. It's just the next big thing in the fashion world. Well, read my writings, and I'll do my best to read yours too. -Nix Oh, and one more thing, this is my favorite monologue from my favorite book. "I have been called many things. Hag...Harlot...Leper...Witch...I am each of these and none. Banfaith of Elfael...True Bard of Britain, these titles are also mine. Call me what you will, I am myself alone, the last of my kind. "Not for Angharad the friendly hearth, the silver-strung harp, or torc of gold. In the forest she resides, living like the wild things-the nimble fox, elusive bear, or phantom wolf. Like these, her four-footed sisters, the forest is her shelter and her stronghold. "Oh, beloved, yes, the greenwood is her caer, but it is not her home. Angharad was born to a most exhalted position. She was born to bless the hall of a king with her song, to adorn and complete a noble sovereign with her strengthening presence. But the world has turned, the kings grown small, and the bards sing no more. "Listen! Do not turn away. There was a time once, long ago, when the bards were lauded in the halls of kings, when rulers of the Cymry dispensed gold rings and jewelled armbands to the Chieftans of Songs, when all men listened to the old tales, gloried in them, and so magnified their understanding; a time when lord and lady alike heeded the Head of Wisdom and sought the counsel of the Learned in all things. "Alas! That time is gone. Everywhere kings quarrel amongst themselves, wasting their substance on trivialities and the meaningless pursuit of power, each one striving to rise at the expense of the other. They are maggots in manure, fighting for supremacy of the dung heap. Meanwhile, the enemy goes form strength to strength. The invader waxes while the Gwr Gwyr, the True Men, melt away like mist on a sun-bright morning. "The Day of the Wolf has dawned. The dire shape of its coming was seen and foretold, its arrival awaited with fear and dread. At long last is is here, and there are none who can turn it aside. Hear me, O Rhi Bran, the Red King stretches out his hand across the land, grasping, seizing, rending. He will not be satisfied until all lies under his dmonion, or until he awakens from his sleep of death and acknowledges the law of love and justice laid down before the foundations of the world. "I am Angharad, and here in the forest I watch and wait. For, as I live and breathe, the promise of my birth will yet be proved. By the grace of Christ, my druid, I will yet compose a song to be sung before a king worthy of his praise. Do you believe me when I say this?"