A story full of characters who are their names.
My name is Magnauctor. I've spent my adulthood crossing a desert on just a donkey. I have travelled for miles praying for survival. So far it has worked. All I am really looking for is safety, to see if there is a great land in this barrain wasteland.
I was given the gift of Magnauctising, the ability to do things by writing. I would be out of this mess if I had ink and parchment. But I don't.
"Eugh...haaaw!" My donkey gasps in fatigue. He is tired but I am determined. You accomplish nothing by giving up. I had to train for seven years before perfecting my art. My god I was good. The best in Rome. But too good. Granscritor had always loathed me just because I was better at Magnautising. He managed to banish me into the horrid land.
I gasped in amazement. In the distance I could see a crystal steeple which spiralled and ended with a gold star. This spiral was so high the star dared to play with the real ones in the night sky. My donkey trudged on putting all his strength into every step. Now I could see more buildings. They were beautiful and ever so creative. They were genius works of art.
I fell to the floor suddenly. I coughed up the golden sand and stared back on my journey. The donkeys footsteps stretched for miles but ended in this very spot where my donkey had died a noble death. If it was not for him I would not have made it to this paradise
"Oh My gosh!" someone screamed from the mighty metropolis "a traveller in desperte need of hospitality."