How stories are born (or, how elves rule my life)

This won’t be a long post – just an update on how a certain elf has taken over my life right now and insists to have his story told no matter what. “But I have other projects started!” I protest and grumble, “I need to finish a novel, work on some other ideas! Where did you sprout from?”

“Hi,” he says, “my name is Tush and I’m a Silver Elf. I need your help, because circumstances have forced me to become a slave.”

Drat. How can I not fall for this ploy to break my heart? He looks at me with those pretty eyes all sad and I just can’t turn my back to him.

Typical story.

So I found a strappy young human male for him, to help him out. The things I do for a pretty boy… /eyeroll/ 😀

 

Here is a pic of what he looks like more or less (his eyes are actually gray and his hair is also more iron-silver gray) – have a look and tell me if you wouldn’t drop everything to help him out!

 

 

 

I wish you all a very nice day!

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