Torqued Tales

Excerpt:
From The Emperor's New Clothes
By CB Potts

Long ago and far away, best beloved, there was a kingdom. Technically, of course, it should have been an Emperor-dom, for it was ruled over not by some lowly King - after all, you can get Kings six for a dollar at any decent bazaar these days, and twice that on Sundays - but by an honest to goodness Emperor. And if you dont think thats special, well, all I can say is that you must be new to the land of fairy tales. As such, I bid you welcome and beg you to sit and stay, just for a while.

For anyway, in this Kingdom that should have been an Emperor-dom, there was, in fact, an Emperor. Oh, what a glorious specimen of manhood he was! This is not something that Im saying simply because I am a lowly teller of tales and the Emperor who ruled this kingdom, which in truth should have been an Emperor-dom (and youll forgive me, best beloved, if I stop belaboring this point, having now reached the conclusion that it has worked quite hard enough!), has entire legions of soldiers most well equipped with bright shiny implements of destruction. No, I tell you these words because they are the truth, or at least the most reasonable facsimile thereof that you are like to find.

Verily, the Emperor was a beautiful man, tall if you like that sort of thing, short if you did not. With a complexion both pale and dark, eyes of the summer sea and winter sky, he was so handsome that his own mother could not stand it and in fact pitched herself right out the window rather than have to live in the reflected glory of such a beauteous babe.

You would think that the people would love such a man.

You would be wrong.

From Roy LeRoy and the Bears of Hangman's Bluff
Kit Zheng

Now, here's a tale of Roy's traveling days.

Every man, even a man as good and reliable as the sheriff of Whistler's Gulch, gets the urge to wander now and then. And one fine morning, when the sun was shining and the blue sky so clear you could see as far as eternity if you just looked hard enough, Roy LeRoy passed his keys on to Eli Lords and said, "I think I'll take a walk to clear my head. Have a care and mind things while I'm away."

Roy put on his hat and his best walking boots, locked up his house, and walked down Molly Princeton's footpath straight out of town. He kept right on walking, until the soles were worn out of his boots and the bottoms of his feet became thick as boot leather from all the calluses. He walked until the dust on him was so thick you couldn't tell what was dirt and what was the raggedy remains of his clothes. It seemed like Roy LeRoy might just keep on walking 'til he hit the end of the earth. If it hadn't been for the hailstorm of all hailstorms, I do believe he would've done it.

Now, our good sheriff put up well enough with rain and strolled right through sleet; he even marched right through Silver Needle Valley with a dozen icicles hanging from his hat. But the hail that fell that day on Hangman's Bluff was the size of a man's head and left craters big as bathtubs. Even a man as brave and tough as Roy LeRoy couldn't go unharmed.

Forced to look for shelter, Roy musta had the luck, because he found a little cave not so far off. Going inside, Roy found that cave was just about the nicest cave you can imagine. Why, some folks don't have houses as nice as that cave: it was clean and dry and big, and had a little bit of a bottleneck right before the entrance so the wind didn't blow in. And the moss had grown up so thick along one corner that it made Roy the loveliest bed he'd slept on in months, maybe even nice as the one in the tavern with the beer made from genuine sunshine. Our sheriff thanked his lucky stars, hung up his hat on a stalagmite, and lay down for what he expected would be a fine nap. He had walked a year and a day, after all, and after a walk like that a man tends to be clean tuckered out.

But quick as Roy'd gone to sleep, he never noticed the three openings in the rear of the cave, and never stuck his nose inside to find out if the smaller caves they opened up on were empty. Well, two of 'em were, at least when Roy found the cave. But the middle cave was host to three men as mean as kicked dogs: a band of vicious outlaws known as the Bears of Hangman's Bluff.