The Golden Candle

Buttercup, a low-elf twelve Solar cycles of age, was sitting in the bay window of her family’s tree-house, reading a book of low-elven folklore, when the first snowfall of the Solar Cycle began covering the Greenlands.

She had first felt a chill—although this did not bother her, seeing as she was a low-elf. Then her long, pointy ears had noticed how peculiarly quiet it was, even with her three adoptive brothers—Alder, Pine and Chestnut—playing up in the loft of their tree-house.

Yes, Buttercup had sensed the winds changing, so she paused her reading to gaze out the large bay window and was startled to see snowflakes. They were almost like falling Stars, their whiteness contrasting with the deep blue twilight.

“Cosmos,” she breathed, not believing it. “Snow? This early?”

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The Trial of Titania Brown

“Greetings, folk of the Solar Kingdom. Today we gather for the trial of Misses Titania Brown, a mundane—or so she was sentenced to be!”

As Sola made his little speech, Titania shut her eyes tightly. She had never exactly been one for Divination or Metaphysical Magic, but she had to communicate with the Cosmos, beg the divine to just let her die.

“Yes, she was sentenced to a mundane life,” Sola continued, “as she was not deemed royal by the Cosmos, nor was she deemed noble. She is a giantess after all…”

At this, the Solar folk jeered:

“Disgusting giant!”

“A tainted folkian breed, indeed! Just filthy!”

“The giant race is too stupid to work with the Craft!”

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Author’s note: Nothing in this piece of writing is fictional. Every one of the horrors found in this story happens everyday. In fact, they are happening right now, as I write this. This is how we treat pigs. I felt, as both a vegetarian and a writer, it was my duty to write this story, with the intention of raising awareness for animal abuse. My information was gathered from a documentary titled ‘Dominion’, available for free on YouTube. If you still eat meat, and feel good about that choice, I highly recommend you watch the documentary. Now, on with the story…

Your earliest memories reside at the farrowing crate, where you feed from your mother. It’s really more of a cage, what with its metal bars. The farrowing crate is so small, your mother’s body just barely squeezes inside. Perfect to keep her in one place, while you and your many siblings feed from her.

In fact, because the farmer forced your mother to have such a large litter, seven of your thirty-nine brothers and sisters have been born dead. But a large litter is needed, to keep us humans fed. We do like our sausage and bacon after all.

That is why your mother is forced to birth so many piglets; us humans need them to grow big and fat, so we can keep ourselves satisfied.

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